Nangle Natters: Monster Mash

I grew up with a drinker in our household. He wasn’t abusive, in fact X was lots of fun. As kids my brother and I would play our own version of Buckaroo when it came to waking up X from his afternoon nap after a boozy lunch. There would be ‘dry’ days to balance out the excess, and bottles of Aqua Libre would be brought out as replacement offerings when the family went ‘round to others for lunch. X was – and still is – one of the sweetest and most lovely people I have ever known.

I only realised X was a drinker when I got well into my teens – perhaps that was when I began to notice other people in the world besides me – and then knowing it made me examine my own blossoming relationship with alcohol, rather than throw myself into boozing full throttle with a lot of my peers. I went along to AlAnon meetings, got my own perspective, and continued with the rest of my life. This was the first time I ever heard the sentence: “The first step in solving a problem is recognizing there is one”. I’ve since updated the phrase for myself to: “just because you can see the monster in the room, have pointed it out to people and called it a name, it doesn’t mean you don’t still have to deal with the monster”.

I’m not saying that the first step isn’t tricky – but it’s not the whole journey!

Fast forward to, well, the rest of my life, and I find I’m throwing this out to all and sundry. It’s become a bug bear of mine. I’m not saying that the first step isn’t tricky – but it’s not the whole journey! Whether you’re writing a book (isn’t everyone in Brighton?) or learning an instrument, saying you’re going to do it is the first step – not the last.

Loads of people shout about taking that first step – it’s less exciting to walk further down the road and keep going. You don’t get heaped with congratulations for doing more of the same and keeping up the good work. There’s really not much kudos incentive.

That’s probably why Alcoholics Anonymous have things like sobriety coins and medals to mark landmark dates. A pat on the back when everyone else has simply adjusted and forgotten you were any other way. But it is worth remembering that you could also get that book you’ve always wanted to write, a kick ass riff all of your own on the bassoon, or a new appreciation of coffee you picked up when you actually went to Latin America rather than just talking about it. Pull your finger out.