Yesterday I had the first proper meeting about my drinking problem. A guy came from a centre in Woolwich, and we began discussing my relationship to alcohol. It was a necessary, indeed vital step: since uni, I’ve used beer as a wind-down or relaxant; I feel the urge to drink to have a good time. The guy began to suggest how I can avoid these urges. The problem is, one drink always lead to me wanting two, and two to three, and so on. It was becoming an uncontrollable urge, and Lyn was clearly getting fed up of me getting drunk. The last time I came home drunk out of my head, she insisted I went and got help.

It was a good meeting yesterday, and a lot was discussed. The guy will come back next Friday to continue the process. He also recommended I stop drinking alcohol altogether, at least for the time being. I cannot disagree that that is a very good suggestion, yet, at the same time, part of me feels bitter about it, and I must admit I had quite a short temper for a while yesterday afternoon. You see, while I know full well the dangers of drinking too much and the problems it can cause – I have a nasty scar on my forehead to attest to that – I also associate it with freedom. I cherish the ability to go into a pub and have a couple of beers. Everyone else can do it, so to have that right removed from me fees like a freedom has been taken away, and like I’m being treated like a child.

I suppose it’s analogous to smoking. People know smoking is bad for them, but if a government tried to ban it completely, there would be an outcry. People would say that their freedoms were being taken away, and that they have a right to decide what they did with their body. The very fact they were being controlled and limited, even if they knew the health risks, would cause huge resentment. Similarly, part of me feels resentment towards this; even though I know full well the wisdom of it, I no longer feel totally free. I may be safer and more cooperative, I may sleep a lot better, yet part of me feels like I’m being treated like a child by overprotective parents. As a disabled man, perhaps I value such freedoms even more, given I know how precious they are. Of course I have no intention of breaking this ban – after all, in this city there are so many better things to do than drinking beer – but I just wanted to get this side of the story off my chest.