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What was I telling myself? 
What was I telling the world?
What was my story?

In 2019 when my beautiful wife made mention of my slightly excessive alcoholic drinking, my age-old story came up. You see, I have never liked being told what to do. I assume it was because I was raised in a strict household and taught by the Christian Brothers ( a tie on sideways at assembly could incur a surprise crack with a ruler on the back of the leg). I had always felt a deep-seated aversion to a feeling of being controlled and the fear that is embedded in the idea. My life after my schooling saw me react to this in many forms and it certainly created a wayward life at times. Anyway, that’s decades ago.

 About two years ago my doctor told me, for health reasons, to get my consumption of alcohol down.

I told myself. ‘I’ll do what I want!’

‘No doctor is going to tell me what to do!’

Anyway, apart from my doctor and my wife being right, I still waited for myself to step up and say it to me. 

but, try as I might, I couldn’t. I didn’t let on to my wife and daughter and it became a silent struggle. I was in conflict with my higher self.

I knew I created this. 
I knew I was in the middle of this

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