You Left Early

by Louisa Young

  Significant Events Sheet

  An inexplicable emotional revelation. I have become resolute. This is kindergarten, possible flash in the pan, early days, self delusion, self deception, etc. Got to work out how to hang on to it when out of here. I know it’s not really started yet.

  1) Realising that saying ‘good morning’ to someone first is important.

  2) excellent lunch

  3) good new AA meeting

  4) God-daughter’s piano lesson

  5) Speaking at AA with my speech impediment (decided to take it with me)

  6) Chronic lasciviousness – very unusual

  7) AA Beginners – a guy 4 years sober saying he was fine for 3 1/2 years thought he’d cracked it – last 6 months absolute hell!!??? Thanks. Good or bad to hear? A sobering thought. Ha ha.

  8) Not being able to get to the prom (significant non-event). Pleased that I didn’t lose it when realising I couldn’t get to see one of the greatest musicians on the planet (Daniel Barenboim) conduct one of the great orchestras. Resigned, philosophical. Feelings far too many to process. I’m not a pea … yet.

  From Robert’s Stepwork

  London and Wigan, 2009–2010

  How does the self-centred part of my disease affect my life + the lives of those around me?

  The problem I now face, sober, is differentiating between self-centredness and self-protectiveness. My principle criterion is not having a drink today. Nothing or nobody will get in the way of that today. Yes, in a way this is self-centred, but without my treasured sobriety I would be incapable of helping others, loving others, loving anything.

  Did I believe I could control my drinking?

  Trying to avoid the off licence before going to the pub late morning. Only successful if I got a taxi to the pub. After my siesta at my flat, ordering a cab straight to Louisa’s, avoiding the off-licence en route. On the few occasions I managed this, I would later have to leave Louisa’s to go and ‘buy cigarettes’, hiding my existing cigarettes in an inside pocket.

  What things did I do that I can hardly believe I did when I look back at them?

  The balcony-window-arse-impaling-on-the-railing occasion. When I went to stay in Prague with my then-girlfriend’s closest friend. After one night on the sofa I complained that it had not been comfortable. Next day, after an alcohol-fuelled party, we returned to share her bed, obviously, as just good friends. Not.

  Insisting to x that she had an abortion. Contraception had been used, therefore the pregnancy was not my responsibility. I did not want the child and told her so. I did not tell her that my becoming a father would get in the way of my work and of my drinking, although at the time I was not consciously aware of the latter. A vivid memory of her sobbing in the cab to the clinic, a vivid memory of her sobbing in the clinic and most painful of all a vivid memory of her after the operation, a grey pallor, her eyes dead, looking down and then looking through me. ‘I’ve forgotten my hip flask,’ I thought. I bought flowers, I bought videos, I looked after her lovingly, but drowned any feelings of guilt or remorse in vodka. ‘It’ll be all right,’ I thought. It never was.

  Did I behave in ways of which I’m now ashamed?

  Relentlessly deceiving Louisa into believing that I was not drinking. A sense of relief, a sense of the naughty schoolboy getting away with it, and risibly a sense of nobility, of decadent heroism. Infidelity on an irregular basis to x, whilst she was away, sleeping with someone in the flat and not bothering to change the sheets. Not bothering to come home at all, sleeping in the West End with an actress with whom I was working. I said I had been working late, then had got drunk and wrenched my back; I couldn’t get home + had to stay in a hotel. Again, heroic, bohemian, entirely justifiable. Any niggling doubts quelled by workaholism and a few drinks.

  A lovely old lady, mother of a friend. For years (1980–85) I would to go round, to practise the piano and be fed, and for holidays with her family. When she died c2002, I was asked to the funeral. Apparently I was one of her favourites. I didn’t turn up. I never bothered to apologise. Never sent a note. What was it like? I didn’t fucking care.

  I was divorced by my ex-wife, dumped by Anna and thrown out by Louisa. My drinking came first. It was their fault for not understanding the complex sensitive artist. I existed on a higher, more esoteric plane and anyway now these less-talented mortals, who couldn’t be expected to understand my idiosyncratic genius, would no longer get in the way of my drinking. In other words I was a self-obsessed deluded wanker.

  Did I make insane decisions as a result of my addiction?

  [He did, and listed them, but I’ve been asked not to include them, so I won’t.]

  Did I ever physically injure myself?

  One cracked tooth, one tooth knocked out. I told Louisa I’d been mugged. I had in fact been mugged by a garden wall. Facial injury – bad cuts, bad bruises, one cut near the eye socket. I had been mugged again by some evil bastard. Two evil bastards actually – a lamppost and a shop doorknob. Breaking my foot off. Getting into fights.

  Have I over- and under-reacted to things?

  Over-reacting: I interpreted criticism as personal slight meant to undermine me, professionally or emotionally. That much of this criticism was constructive eluded me. Or it was immediately dismissed. People were insensitive, jealous, small-minded. No further thought given. I had a chronic, painful infatuation in 96–97. I was, in retrospect, infatuated with the infatuation. She smoked spliff and listened to pop music; I drank alcohol and listened to classical music. I didn’t like her friends; she didn’t like mine. I smoked more spliff; she drank more booze. This was the solution, I thought. A few weeks after I was dumped I saw her at a party – she didn’t know who I was.

  Under-reacting: only after my father’s demise have I begun to genuinely grieve for my mother. I drank 1/2 a bottle of whisky before the funeral. then on, it was a gradual sneaky evolution – more pronounced from my early thirties.

  Over and under: On being told I was scruffy + smelly I would rush out and buy a lot of new clothes and bathe scrupulously all in one day. The rest of the time I would wallow in what I styled as modish and bohemian – ie scruffy and smelly.

  In what ways has my life changed since I’ve been in recovery?

  I am no longer the most sensitive, vulnerable hard-done-by person on the planet. The formerly alien concept of gratitude plays a crucial role. Despite my formerly huge ego + massively extrovert personality (invite Rob round, he’s guaranteed to initially entertain then surprise, shock and humiliate) I was in fact a shy, fearful person. Alcohol provided the antidote. Now I can approach people without wanting to dominate + manipulate them. A great gift.

  What action have I been taking that demonstrates my faith?

  Regular attendance at meetings. Writing more and better music. Sane music, hopefully devoid of effect, devoid of sensationalism. Not just doing the steps but infusing my life with what I have learnt. Despite my deeply faulted character I am becoming a more considerate person, mentally and physically more agile despite suffering from incurable illnesses.

  Do I believe more change is possible?

  Yes.

  *

  Hospital Notebook

  London, Summer 2010

  Particularly

  (upside down)

  Thanks so much for that elongated effort!

  Breathing struggle fear of choking

  CHOKING

  from CATARRH

  I thought ‘This is it’

  I will probably never speak properly

  – fact

  I’ve gone a bit tone deaf

  temp – I’m a fucking musician

  – composer

  a much bigger medical shock

  will be trying to get the TV to work

  and watch England lose.

  What are you doing tonight

  New one: Lachrymose hiccup

  Dear L.

  Thank you

  and I still

  love you.

&
nbsp; (even more.

  in fact).

  R X X

  I think you should have a day off.

  – a break from this

  do something else.

  It’ll be good for you.

  X

  could you be so kind as to charge

  my mobile?

  Thank

  BOWELGROIN AGONY PAIN

  I’M NOT SOFT NOT A COWARD

  THIS IS

  BAD

  I’m from Wigan

  where are you

  from?

  Sorry! Didn’t realise!

  T.V. too loud

  but don’t say it’s me

  What is nebuliser?

  I’ve had

  enough pain.

  Is it painful?

  What is the noise NOISE

  Dear _______

  Did you mention cathata?

  The nurse in the other

  ward gave me such pain

  (like the tube was stood on)

  more pain than my neck! (haha)

  I’m sure you’ll be very

  delicate

  Thanks so much.

  MY FIANCÉ HAS

  GOOD TASTE IN MEN

  CHEST PAIN

  – BREATHING INV BAD

  BIT PANICKY

  – FRIGHTENED

  IS DOC COMING?

  THANKS

  – YOU’RE GOOD THOUGH

  You know what Hockney’s

  boyfriend said when he

  met WH Auden?

  I was giving Louisa the book

  Will never speak normally

  never fuckin’ did

  haha

  My future wife !

  has been phenomenal

  Not had a drink

  lose dad

  Louisa’s dad

  Kath

  now this reward!

  Another northern humourist

  N Wales Barry Manilow

  Not at first

  but it grows

  good woman

  Class A drug morphine pure

  there is a limit 5-10-15

  How’s Lisette?

  weirdest fantasies

  Surreal stuff

  very real

  Mark Almond?

  Sax

  send regards

  still married

  These surgeons are amazing

  so complex

  ask Louisa she likes detail!

  I probably can’t eat again

  either

  I feel scared. I have been v. tough

  Everyone impressed. But now –

  Mouth physio!?

  hurts when I

  breathe in

  I’ve not tried moving

  on my own yet

  I’m thinking of guys

  in world war one

  before! …?

  I’m in the Paris Hilton

  Dominic

  – you are strong + gentle

  perfect combo.

  silly fucker man

  PARANOID about F-ing

  CATHETAand I’m getting

  married soon!!

  [Two willy cartoons: one pointing

  high, the other (with the word

  NOT written by it) broken.]

  Hard to

  breath

  NOT

  too painful

  tho

  I

  can’t get

  enough

  there’s a lot worse

  than this

  mild case

  Did you study medics

  at Univ? Where?

  NO

  BOOZE

  3 1/2 yrs

  DAY AT A TIME

  I NEED HELP

  UNDERSTANDING

  WORSE PAIN

  NO SLEEP

  How are you?

  It’s not quite

  all about me

  but nearly

  I had a dog called

  Fella – dead

  Robert – alive

  comfortable

  sleep

  position?

  back very uncomfort

  do you know about

  blood explosion

  sickness

  here earlier

  old blood

  swallowed in stomach

  Now I can feel more gums

  afraid of biting

  plus hard bits

  Also my

  lovely future wife

  left earlier

  Like many men I am a soft

  coward

  How are you?

  post op trauma

  FEAR PANIC

  SADNESS

  TRAUM

  FEAR PANIC

  PAIN PHYSICAL YES

  BUT MORE

  manual cheek jaw behind eye

  I’m really sorry!

  I have great respect for you!!

  My light has been on for 20

  mins …your colleague didn’t

  come back please accept my

  apology! I just wanted a little

  favour? Could you find BBC4

  for me? I’d really appreciate

  that

  I know you’re dealing with

  much more urgent things

  THANKS

  Robert

  also bad pain left neck

  area + nose

  How’s work?

  [He’s drawn a section of

  musical stave, with treble

  clef, 4/4 time signature, and

  the first bar of Mozart’s

  Minuet in G, one of the

  classic first pieces that

  young piano beginners

  are given to learn]

  pseudo ‘classical’

  do you know Siegfried Idyll

  overture to Parsifal

  melancholic trumpet

  What opera

  lunch darling?

  oysters sashimi

  2-4 wee

  I booked rooms in Magdalen

  to show her.

  – yes

  she occasionally smiles

  and she is older. 1 day 4 hrs

  Jackie has been amazing

  She’s had cancer

  Now close to Louisa

  they’re both a bit

  Jackie + me love each other

  both sides of her!

  but nothing of that with us..