Today the 1st April marks 5 years of being alcohol free. I took my last swig of straight vodka at 23.59 on Monday 31st March 2014. I have written extensively about that here ever since but each anniversary and milestone I feel needs special consideration. I have never shied away from being truthful about my relationship with alcohol and other addictive behaviours so I’m not going to lie now. 5 years of alcohol sobriety but fallen off the wagon again with the other. Codeine. It’s like that Gillian Welch song ‘My Morphine’. Opiate just a lower strength. Oh yes I’ll kick it into touch again going through yet another week of flu like symptoms and much positive thinking mantras with the eternal hope that this time I’ll stay off completely. This time I’ll do it. This time will be the last time.
It’s funny how life has a way of throwing curveballs into your here and now. Whether it be a toxic ex who doesn’t deserve your headspace, being offered a glass of champagne at 11am on the train ( 5 years ago I would have demanded the bottle), or the enormous guilt on Mother’s Day of counting down the minutes till your kids have gone to their dad’s and you’ll finally be on your own but when the curveball is profound and life affirming that’s when a piece of life’s jigsaw puzzle falls into place and maybe just maybe the bigger picture becomes a little clearer.
Whilst out last night in Manchester I stopped off at an independent fast food chicken restaurant with my youngest for some dinner. Wasn’t my first choice but truth be told the food was incredible. North African and Asian cooking. Freshly cooked in front of us with amazing spices, lovely people, and well priced. We ordered a few dishes not realising how much food there would be and as we were tucking in realised we’d need to ask for a doggy bag.
During that time a homeless guy had come in and after a chat ( they clearly knew him) he was given some freshly cooked spicy chicken, rice and peas. I realised I was watching him when my daughter asked why I was staring at the homeless man so I quickly averted my eyes. I had been watching him. It was a joy to watch him thank the chef and waiting staff sincerely for the foil tray of piping hot food, sit at one of the high tables and savour the aroma for a good 30 seconds before taking his first mouthful. Looking at our over indulgent left overs Angelina suggested we give them to him. At first I said no as had planned to take them to my son Max who had stayed back at the hotel but as he had already eaten I thought maybe she was right. This guy could do with them more. As he made his way to leave I spoke to him as he walked behind me towards the door. I offered him the food saying we had far too much and he’d be welcome to share it with us. Thankful and touched he accepted and sat at the table next to ours. The three of us started to chat. We talked and ate together for about 20 minutes. We chatted about our home towns, family or lack of them, the amazing food in this restaurant, homelessness, hostels, and Mother’s Day. He revealed that today was going to be his birthday. His first on the streets. I asked him how long he’d been homeless. He answered just over six months. He showed me the money he had got together that day to pay for a hostel for the night. In all that he was upbeat, positive and thankful. He bid us goodnight and said it had been great to chat with us. Angelina and I both looked at each other. It was like we both knew what the other was thinking. As he headed out the door I got up and ran after him. Angelina at my heels.
‘Wait!’
He stopped and turned round. ‘Please take this’ as I reached out £20. He put his hand on his chest, stepped back and shaking his head said ‘ please no, I can’t’. I insisted and heard Angelina say ‘ please you deserve it’. He stood staring at us his eyes full of tears. Our eyes were brimming over too. He asked if he could hug us and we happily agreed. The three of us, strangers standing on a street in Manchester, a place none of us were from were in that moment indescribably and profoundly connected. We exchanged names and hugged again and again. Exchanging words of kindness, compassion, understanding, and support we left each other all the richer for the experience and interaction. Angelina took my arm as we walked away and I started to cry. She stopped me and hugged me. It was a special moment I will never forget.
It is all too easy to judge a person. To take one look and make huge assumptions. He like anyone else that finds themselves at the mercy of the streets is foremost a human with thoughts, feelings and emotions. He like anyone else has a back story that leads us to this point in time. He like anyone else is doing the best he can with the tools he is given. He like anyone else has feelings, hopes and desires. He like anyone else wants to feel and be treated with fairness, tolerance and without judgment.
Sometimes we are hanging on to the wagon for dear life but the bumps along the road are just too great and unpredictable causing us to lose our grip. To fall off isn’t to fail. There is so much to be gained from learning that to err is to be human.
Christopher, I hope your birthday was underpinned with the knowledge that two lassies from Scotland were profoundly moved by their connection with you. I said to you this is only one chapter of your life. It’s a bloody tough chapter but it doesn’t mean it’s the end of your story. We are all just a few steps away from losing everything. Sometimes the fall off the wagon seems insurmountable but the will to keep trying is where the strength lies.
Night night x
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