In the song ‘I Love it’ by Icona Pop, there is a lyric within which I have always secretly luxuriated.

“I crashed my car into the bridge.

I don’t care; I love it.

I don’t care”.

This lyric stirs up the rebel in me.

It resonates with something vital within me.

I want to crash the car, except I know that isn’t it.

Cars are such a valuable asset, particularly for the youth.

I find the idea of the singer deliberately smashing up her car, not caring and loving it, to be deliciously decadent.

There’s more.

This action speaks to me of the liberation reminiscent of the Punk Rock era.

Breaking things that oughtn’t to be broken for the greater good of freedom from a tyranny.

The rules are clear; This behaviour is improper. And yet … is it?

Punk Rock challenged the polite rules of society that kept people hemmed into a homogenous version of themselves.

Through good intentions, I create internal rules to help me prosper, but my optimistic motives don’t guarantee a good outcome.

Sometimes, by accident, I create mini tyrants within my mindscapes.

As I have picked my way through life, I have amassed a whole raft of rules.

Unfortunately, some rules have bound me to a place of stress instead of releasing me, as planned, into the land of peace and plenty.

Like Johnny Rotten destroying a £2000 guitar on stage, supposedly needlessly, I also need to smash up some stuff.

And so I have.

I have wildly and madly abandoned many behaviours and mental responses that I had catalogued under ‘proper conduct’.

I used to worry and fret about a lot of things.


Poor time-keeping,

The house collapsing or leaking,

What people thought of me,


Old age,

Perfection in many unnecessary arenas, such as cooking/entertaining,

Relentless planning,

Utility bills,

Receiving immediate replies from texts,

Non-existent health issues,

Other people’s comfort,

And a whole load more insignificant sweated details.

I am in my fifth month of Sobriety (I’m giving it a capital S out of massive respect and gratitude), and I can report some more welcome augmentations to my being.

I don’t care.

About a whole lot of shit.

And I love it.

I know that I should care about being punctual, and I will try to be, but if I’m not, … I don’t care. I love that I am no longer bound to that concept but merely guided by it now.

I feel liberated.

I am free not to sweat the details.

I am OK with my best effort.

With this freedom comes inner peace and harmony.

This change of attitude is life-giving and directly linked to my no longer pouring toxic drugs into my system, FOR SURE.

It is mental health recovery.

I love my Sobriety.

I would not have described myself 135 days ago as an anxious person.

However, compared to the relaxed man I have become, I certainly was. I just didn’t know it.

It’s worth noting that alcohol isn’t the only baddie in this sordid tale; I had my crap going on before it arrived on the scene.

Administering alcohol was like putting an infected Band-Aid on an open wound. Things were going to get worse.

Sobriety is a powerful tool I use to unpick and put things right.

This journey into Sobriety is the trip of a lifetime, a voyage into life and life in its fullness.

My only regret is that I waited so long to embark upon it.


Stay on this path at all costs.

I am grateful to my beautiful, patient, loving God for bringing me thus far, sticking with me, and guiding me into my inner Punk Rock era.