Paul Garrigan's Blog, page 37

Waiting for a Special Day to Quit Alcohol

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I think that it is a serious mistake for people to wait for something special to happen, so that they can give up being a drunk. The fact that some many die as a result of this addiction is evidence enough that there is no guarantee that such a day will arrive. In this YouTube video I discuss the dangers of waiting for sobriety to catch up with you.

Addiction Rehab in Thailand

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I sometimes get emails from people who are thinking of coming to Thailand for addiction treatment. It is most usually readers of my book Dead Drunk who want to know if this option will work for them too. I’m always a bit uncomfortable with these queries because I don’t want to give bad advice. It can be tough to get the balance right so that I’m not overly promoting Thailand as the land of miracle cures or going to the other extreme and poopooing the person’s plans. I’ll always be grateful for the addiction help I received in Thailand, but I don’t want to give the impression that other people need to travel here in order to escape their alcohol or drug problems. It was easy for me to choose rehab in Thailand because I was already living here at the time.

I can sometimes be a bit exuberant in my praise for the Thai temple where I ended my addiction, but I definitely do not want to give the impression that it is offering some type of magical solution. I would say that Thamkrabok works best for those who feel they have tried everything else and are now getting desperate – a sort of last chance hotel. One of the wonderful things about this Buddhist temple is that treatment is basically offered for free, but those who hope to stay here will have to arrange their own airfare. They will also be sort of expected to give a donation at the end – it would be bad form not to. There are also plenty of private rehabs in Thailand, but I’m even less able to offer a fair appraisal of these options.

Addiction Rehab in Thailand Worked For Me

Going to rehab in Thailand worked for me but only because I felt completely ready to end my addiction. It was a case of finding the right solution at the right time in my life. I’d reached a point in my alcoholism where I knew that I’d been completely defeated (it was a case of stop or die soon), so I may have just been due for sobriety anyway. I like to tell people that I became ready and the teacher appeared. If I’d not been ready the temple would not have worked for me. I know this because almost half of the people who were there with me later relapsed, so it is definitely not a guaranteed cure. The tools that I picked up at Thamkrabok were ideal for my needs at the time, and their simple philosophy of addiction recovery was refreshing after years dealing with the western model.

It is worth keeping in mind that most of the private Thai rehabs are just offering what is available already in most western countries. I’m not saying this as a criticism, but to just emphasize that it might be a mistake to come here with unrealistic expectations. As far as I can see the main selling point is that these places can provide affordable addiction treatment in resort style accommodation in an exotic part of the world. I doubt people are going to travel all that way just for the extras like Thai massage or Thai yoga. Medical tourism has certainly increased our options and made treatments more affordable. I definitely like the idea, and so long as people keep their expectations in check it may well work for them. I think a change in our environment can allow us to see things in a different way, so perhaps coming to Thailand will knock people out of their usual thinking patterns. With or without Thai rehab though, the most important thing is always going to be their willingness to change.

Aftercare and Thai Rehabs

I suppose the main concern for those coming to Thailand for rehab will be aftercare. Some of those who attend Thamkrabok will later decide to stay on as monks, but this is certainly not a realistic option for everyone. The treatment would have been of no real use to me if it meant that I’d need to live the rest of my life in a temple – thankfully it didn’t. I think we all differ in the amount of aftercare we are going to need, but it is probably better to have too much than too little. In my case I did not require any real aftercare, but I was staying in Thailand. I felt super-strong and positive. I also knew for a certainty that I’d never drink alcohol again. This was lucky because at the time I was living in a part of Thailand where there were no aftercare options anyway.

I’m sure the private Thai rehabs do take aftercare seriously, but I suspect that the client is expected to take on most of the responsibility for this themselves. Hopefully it is more than just telling the person to go to AA meetings or NA meetings when they go home. If people do come to Thailand for treatment it is going to be something that they will need to think carefully about – how will they manage this transition back home? They will also have to be strong enough to face the journey back home where they may be faced with temptation – I know that I used to love drinking in airports.

Admitting to My Vulnerability Has Made Me Stronger

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Growing up it felt like I had this terrible secret that I needed to protect at all costs. I didn’t want other people to realize how vulnerable I felt around them -for these people to know how much they could hurt me with rejection. I felt sure that if they knew this truth they would use the knowledge against me in some way. It would make me an easy target for the bullies. I was a boy and I’d learned that boys are supposed to have a thick skin. At school I used comedy to hide my weakness because there was no way that fighting would ever work for me. Then I discovered alcohol, and it felt like I’d been given a suit of armor. I could be with people without letting them close enough to hurt me. I was happy to play the drunken Irish fool, and it was the first time that it felt like I had a natural talent for something.

Keeping Paul Protected Cost Me Dearly

People who knew me during my drunken years have said it was like there was this wall between me and them. I had this marvelous ability to talk insistently about myself, yet still keep people at a distance (talk about mixed signals). Countless times I was accused of being arrogant and self obsessed, but I took these criticisms as a complement. I knew what these words meant, but I saw them as positive attributes. I’d much prefer that they think of me as arrogant and self obsessed than to know that I hated myself and felt inferior to them.

Alcohol gave me superhuman abilities – I could feel inferior to people yet still be able to look down on them. I perfected the art of the elevator pitch, and this meant that upon meeting a new person I’d automatically launch into a spiel highlighting the reasons why they should like me. I could be like some needy maniac with strangers, but if people attempted to get beyond my bullshit the shutters would go right up. During my late teens and twenties I went through friends and girlfriends like other people go through rolls of toilet paper. I wrote sad letters and song lyrics about how much I wanted somebody who really got me, while back in the real world I did everything possible to prevent people from getting me.

Walking in a Park When the Barriers Come Humbling Down

During my trip back to Ireland a couple of months ago I went for a long walk every day. On one of these outings in a local park I suddenly had this image of myself as if I was a stranger looking at me. I’m tempted to call this a spiritual experience, but there was no real change of consciousness or anything fancy like that. I just saw myself as other people must see me. I was this balding middle age guy who was out walking alone – just an average person doing something average. This realization of my own ordinariness hit me as something truly wonderful. It felt like the barriers that I’d fought so hard to maintain over the years just came tumbling down. I felt vulnerable and sort of unimportant, but that was perfectly fine because it was just the truth.

I wish I’d realized this before, but I don’t need to be something I’m not in order to get the most from life. In fact by trying to be someone I’m not it takes me well away from my comfort zone. Like all humans I’m vulnerable and can be hurt by other people, but there is no shame in that. The price I’d need to pay to hide this vulnerability is way too high, and it is just not sustainable.

My Name Is Bill by Susan Cheever

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I read My Name Is Bill – His Life and the Creation of Alcoholics Anonymous by Susan Cheever when I was back on holiday in Ireland a couple of months ago. I’m not a member of AA, but I do look upon Bill Wilson as a bit of a hero. Time Magazine named him in their top 100 of the most important people of all time, and I think he deserves this recognition. Bill W. was a great synthesizer of ideas, and he had enough charisma to make people take notice of the cause he was promoting. He was no saint, but he was certainly someone to admire.

Controversy Surrounding Susan Cheever’s Book

I first heard of this book because of the controversy surrounding it – there are reports of things that some fans of Bill W. would prefer to be kept hidden. Susan Cheever is a recovering alcoholic, and it is obvious that she has a great deal of affection for Alcoholics Anonymous and the founders of this group. During her research for the book she came across material that initially disturbed her, and she knew that it would shock plenty of other people as well. Susan made the decision to print the story of how Bill W., the founder of the most successful alcohol recovery program in history, asked for whiskey on his deathbed – not just once but on four separate occasions. She came across this information while searching the notes of the nurse who was looking after him for the last few days of his life. When I first read about Bill’s near relapse I did feel shocked, but I certainly do not think that it takes anything away from his life and his work – I discussed this before on here in the post If I Ask For Whiskey On My Deathbed Please Just Give It To Me .

Fair Assessment of Bill Wilson

I’d heard about the demand for whiskey on his deathbed before I began reading Susan Cheever’s book, so I was sort of expecting more shocking revelations, but they didn’t really come. It is hard to ever know with any autobiography, but it did feel to me that she was providing a fair account of his life. I’ve heard that many of the AA members who have taken the time to read the book feel the same way too. Bill Wilson was a human, and like all humans he had his good days and his bad days – this continued after he became sober. He was no saint, but he never claimed to be one. In fact one of his greatest achievements was to create the 12 Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous – he created these rules to save the organization from people like him.

The one thing that seems obvious from reading this book is that Bill Wilson had a deep spiritual hunger. He often spoke about the profound spiritual experience that allowed him to break away from addiction, and he seems to have spent a good deal of the rest of his life trying to recapture that experience. In later years he experimented with acid, and he even created a ghost room in his house where he would try to communicate with the dead. Bill devoured spiritual teachings, and he seems to have found it easy to assimilate new ideas.

The Bad Days of Bill Wilson

Getting sober did not mean the end of Bill Wilson’s suffering. He endured long periods of crippling depression, and there were times when he hardly had the energy to get out of bed. Bill continued to be addicted to cigarettes, and he was unable to give these up even when they were obviously killing him. There are also lots of stories about his inability to remain faithful to his wife. It is easy to use the weaknesses of Bill W. to attack his program, but this is not really fair. The sad truth is that he was unable to benefit from the fellowship he created because of his inability to participate like everyone else. Even when he handed over the organization to the members he was still seen as the leader. If he turned up at a meeting he would be the focus of attention, and so he avoided going to them.

The Good Days of Bill Wilson

Bill Wilson achieved some remarkable things in his lifetime, and he has undoubtedly helped many people escape the misery of addiction. The thing that made him so special was that he never really tried to hide his imperfections. He wrote extensively about his problems, and this work contains a great deal of wisdom. Bill Wilson wasn’t some “holier than thou” prophet trying to lead people from on high – he was right there with them struggling with the same things that they struggled with. His advice is worth more because he wasn’t talking from a pulpit but from experience.

Should We Leave Addiction Recovery to the Experts?

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In this video I discuss the claim that we should leave addiction recovery to the experts. I don’t agree this statement at all, and I’m not even sure who these experts should be. I suppose by “experts” we are usually talking about professionals with some type of formal training and recognized qualification. The problem with using this standard is that we would have to be sure that this training is sufficient to give those trying to break away from addiction the best possible chance. I don’t believe that this is the case – in fact lots of people are able to end their addiction without the help of these experts. I worry that this urge to demarcate addiction as the territory of certain professionals is happening for the wrong reasons, and it is ultimately doing those looking for help a disservice. It seems clear to me that it is an attempt by special interest groups to corner the market because there is obviously lots of money to be made and prestige to be won.

It took me two decades to break away from my addiction to alcohol. I entered my first treatment program at age nineteen, and I tried many different approaches to recovery. I finally escaped the life of a drunk by getting help at a Thai temple using a treatment that would be considered to be “woo woo” by many experts in the west. All I can say is that it worked for me, and if the option did not exist I might be dead. I’m grateful that the addiction experts are there because they do some good work, but it would be wrong to allow them to call all the shots.

Press play to watch the video – you will find the podcast edition of this episode below.

Here is the podcast:

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Worry is a Brain Fart

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Worry has been the bane of my life. It has brought me close to despair so many times, and all that it touches can rapidly turn to shit. If I allowed this worry to go unchecked it would mean living in a world of fear and insurmountable obstacles. I honestly can’t find any redeeming features for this emotion. I once believed that it might act as a type of motivation to make me work harder, but all it really does is paralyze me and sap my energy. I see worry is just a form of unnecessary self torture. Of course like all forms of self torture this is something that I do to myself

Telling Somebody Not to Worry Is Just Stupid

The most useless advice that I’ve ever given another person (or that they have given me) is to tell them not to worry. This is about as helpful as telling somebody with an upset stomach to not have diarrhea. Worry is not like rock climbing. You don’t wake up in the morning with the idea that you fancy a bit of worrying that day – or at least I don’t. Telling somebody not to worry is worse than a platitude because it is insinuating that the other person is doing something wrong for feeling how they feel. It becomes something else for them to worry about

Worry is a Brain Fart

The best description that I can use to describe worry would be to say that it is a type of brain fart. I’m not just using the word “fart” here to be witty or flippant. It does seem to be a suitable description for an emotion that comes out of almost nowhere and causes such a stink. I’ve noticed that worry will usually latch onto something that is going on in my life, but if there is nothing obvious to worry about it will find something. This means that even if I’m enjoying smooth sailing in life I can suddenly be paralyzed by the idea that I might have cancer. There can also be times when there is plenty of troubling things going on but I feel strong and optimistic. It is the unpredictable nature of worry that earns it the title of a brain fart.

Worry is a Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

I can rage against the unfairness of worry, but the only power this emotion has is the power I give it. The reality is that worry is not some conscious foe that is set on making my life miserable. It is just what happens when I allow a negative prediction about the future to take over my thinking. On any given day there is the potential for a billion things to go wrong and worry happens when I decide to focus on one of these things. Of course any of these potential disasters could have equally relevant to yesterday when I wasn’t worried about them, but one thing that worry does not depend on is logic.

The reason for why it is useless to tell people “not to worry” is that the advice comes too late – just like telling somebody to bolt the stable door after the horse has escaped and is already three counties away. It would make more sense to tell the person to deal with the worry rather than trying to pretend that it is not there. Worry is just something that crops up in the mind and unless we are some enlightened superhuman, in charge of every thought and feeling, there is little we can do to stop it. I’ve found that the best tactic for me is to go on the offensive. This means dealing directly with those thoughts that the worry likes to latch on to – it is sort of like giving these thoughts a non-stick surface.

How I Deal with Worry

The reason for why some of my thoughts are such easy prey for worry is that they involve my beliefs about how life should be. These troublesome thoughts are like a crack in these cherished beliefs and the worry can exploit this weakness (I’m talking again as if worry is somehow a conscious thing, but I’m just trying to be descriptive here). In this case the best way to deal with the worry is to dig right down to the beliefs because that is where the trouble really is coming from.

What I’m saying here might all sound terribly muddled but bear with me for a minute, I gave a good example of how this all works on my blog a few weeks ago in the post – Now I Love the Uncertainty of Freelance Writing . I’ll use a different example here of how my unfounded beliefs can open the door for worry. I can waste time concerned about what other people think of me. This is because I have beliefs about how they should think of me, and this opens the door to worry. I’ve created a rod for my own back because 1) I can’t read minds, and 2) I can’t control other people’s minds. The idea that I get to decide what other people will think about me is ludicrous, and the only sensible thing is to let go of that nonsense completely. By giving other people permission to think of me as they wish (not that I ever had any choice), it makes these types of negative thoughts less of a target for worry.

The Story of My Stupidity

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I left school at fifteen years of age with no real qualifications. I got expelled after getting caught breaking into my classroom with some friends one night. We weren’t there out of any love of the school; we were looking for solvents to sniff. Our attempted burglary was completely bungled because we were all so drunk – earlier we had stolen a case of altar wine from a nearby church. I got caught, and I suppose I got what I deserved.

School Makes People Stupid

Despite the fact that it was my actions that led to my expulsion from school I felt terribly betrayed and angry. This all happened around the time of my parents breakup when I was completely off the rails. In the space of three school terms I went from top class in one school to the bottom class in another. Nobody seemed to notice anything strange about this downward spiral and nobody seemed to care. I walked away from the whole experience with a huge chip on my shoulder and an inferiority complex in regard to my own intelligence.

Despite my lack of an education I found my way into the world of employment, and by the age of eighteen I was working as a barman in Oxford. I was surrounded by people who were learning at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, and they were a constant reminder of my failings in life. It used to bug the shit out of me, and I loved to mock them – sometimes to their faces if I was drunk. I developed a type of reverse snobbery by consoling myself that university just made people stupid and unable to think for themselves.

By age twenty-two I was working in a bar that catered mostly for customers studying at University College London. I started going out with a girl who was studying for her degree. I thought I was in love but I struggled with the relationship because of the differences in our educational achievements. I felt jealous all the time. Her friends annoyed me because I always felt like a complete dullard around them. They were always nice to my face, but I suspected that they looked down on me as the “amusing drunk Irish fellow”. I used arrogance to hide my inferiority complex which meant that I tended to rub people up the wrong way. This put a strain on the relationship, but before we split up she did manage to encourage me to return to education. This girlfriend suggested that I might want to train to be a teacher because I was so fond of lecturing people when I was drunk.

My Educational Ups and Downs

Over the next three years I studied part time and managed to get enough A levels to be eligible for a place in university. I signed up for a social science degree at Southbank University but before I could take my place on the course my dipsomania got the better of me. I ended up homeless and begging in a tunnel at Elephant and Castle (ironically this was right beside the entrance to Southbank University). People who knew how hard I’d worked to get into university were a bit stunned – some were even angry. How could I get so close to my goal and then just piss it all away? I’m sure it looked like self-sabotage, but it felt like a mental breakdown to me.

At age 25 I was once again sober, and I managed to return to the path of education. I decided to study to become a nurse. I took my place on the Project 2000 diploma course at St Bartholomew’s School of Nursing and Midwifery in London. I later did another course in Ireland that brought my qualification up to a degree. After moving to Thailand I played around with teaching English for a few years, and I ended up getting a Post Graduate Certificate in Education. I’ve no plans for any further formal qualifications.

If Only…

I can sometimes wonder about what would have happened if I’d not had my meltdown at fifteen. I had the ability to do well in the Irish Leaving Cert, and perhaps I could have gone on to university at eighteen. Who knows? The reality is that I was always destined to under perform in formal education. Even before my family troubles all my school reports said things like “Paul has the ability, but he just does not apply himself”. When I returned to education in adulthood I was always happy to just do the bare minimum. I knew that if I gave my best shot there would be less of an excuse for failure. I didn’t see the point of putting the effort into getting better marks if I could get away with less – every hour that I spend studying was an hour away from the pub.

I’m grateful for my education, but the pieces of paper don’t seem that important to me anymore. I no longer feel inferior to other people, but this has nothing to do with my qualifications. The reality is that it was never really about any of that. I don’t need certificates to be a worthwhile human and formal education is only ever going to get me so far. The most important lessons come from dealing with the challenges of life – the school of hard knocks.

What Does it Mean?

Here we are at the end of this blog post, and I’ve no real idea about what I’m trying to say. I suppose the lesson is that it is good for me to go after the things that I feel are lacking in my life, but that it may be more important to understand where this sense of lack is coming from. Returning to education did not make me a better human, it just meant that I was the same person with better qualifications.

I’ve discussed on this blog before about my concerns regarding my son’s education. I do want him to have as many opportunities in life as possible, but I’ll be proud of him no matter what qualifications he ends up with. The most important thing is that he is able to handle the challenges that will come his way in life, and that he never feels the need to hide behind alcohol and drugs.

Does Sober Living Mean No Friends?

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In this video I discuss the difficulties we may have finding friends in recovery. I once believed that alcohol made me better at socializing, but all it really did was numb me to people and my feelings about them. I’ve found in recovery that spending time with others is no longer such an ordeal.

Closer to the Truth in Life

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Finding My Truth

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that my pet project at the moment is creating my guidebook for living. Most of my recent blog entries have come about as a result of this work, and this post is another attempt to unravel my thinking. I’m creating my own personal bible, or manifesto for living, and it will contain my best ideas about what life is all about, and how I can get the most from the experience. I want to remove all of the junk and self limiting beliefs that I’ve accumulated over the years and make a fresh start. This book is not just something that I plan to put together and forget about. I intend to use it to guide me going forward for the rest of my life; although I’ll be surprised if at least some of the content doesn’t change over time. This guidebook for living is all about the things that I find true and value, and it is not about telling other people what they should believe and value. I feel that this is work that we all have to do for ourselves.

The biggest obstacle I face while trying to find my truth is my own limitations. I’m agnostic in the sense that I don’t believe that we can know anything for sure. If this is true then how can I possibly find truth?

Not Knowing

I don’t know if it is possible for humans to fully understand this mysterious condition that we call life – how can we if we can’t even be sure if any of this is real. This doesn’t mean that I’m anti-intellectual, anti-religion, or anti-science. It just means I don’t take beliefs about our universe too seriously – or at least I try not to. I view beliefs as being similar to stories; something we use to help us make sense of it all and to keep us entertained. These beliefs are attempts to pin down something that is beyond human comprehension. I’m not saying that beliefs are necessarily bad, but they certainly can be when they limit us or put us in conflict with other people. I also appreciate that beliefs can benefit us. They make us feel more secure and in control of things. In fact, I can’t imagine how we would be able to function in the world without them. I think we (or at least I) make a mistake by becoming so engrossed in these stories that they are seen as some undeniable truth that must be defended at all costs. Surely if these beliefs were certain and undeniably true there would be no need to waste time trying to persuade non-believers?

Truth without strong Beliefs

My conviction that life is unknowable may sound unreasonable or at least impractical. If I claim ignorance about everything, how can I survive day to day living? Surely this level of uncertainty about the universe is a definite sign of mental illness and perhaps I should be locked away for my own good. If I don’t have a set of beliefs, how can I tell right from wrong? What’s to stop me from just doing as I please no matter how much it hurts other people? My complete agnosticism about the universe must surely mean that I’m a loose cannon.

I’ve found that by letting go of strong beliefs it has caused me to experience far greater inner contentment. I care more about other people, and I’ve no agenda where I’m trying to convince them that my beliefs are the correct ones. By admitting that I don’t really know anything, it has opened my mind and allowed me to let go of self limiting nonsense. I can see that underneath all the beliefs there is a truth, and I don’t need to fully understand what this is in order to get closer to it. I feel sure that our more beneficial beliefs (things like love and charity) are reflections of this underlying truth. In fact it seems reasonable for me to assume that the closer our beliefs are to what actually exists the more beneficial they will be for us. Our beliefs can bring us closer to the truth, but I’m just not convinced that they can take us all the way there. Of course, the fact that I don’t know means that I can’t go around dismissing other people’s beliefs with any level of certainty. I can only really know that “I don’t know”.

My barometer of truth is the impact that a belief has on my life. I’m not talking here about just doing whatever I like so long as it makes me happy. I don’t subscribe to the views of people like Alistair Crowley who advocated, “do what thou wilt is the whole of the law. It is not right for me to hurt other people with the excuse that I’m trying to be happy. I’ve tried living a life dictated to hedonism, and that almost killed me. I now see that the ups and downs are equally important and that always striving to be happy is life denying and a path to misery. I like to use the word “contentment” as something different from happiness – it is a sense of peace no matter what is happening in the world. It is this inner feeling of serenity that tells me that I’m moving closer to the truth. Another very positive sign is that I’m spending more time thinking about other people. I also feel that there are some truths in life that are almost undeniable. I doubt that it took the arrival of religion for humans to understand that murder is wrong. I think the same can be said of many ethical principles. It seems to be the simple beliefs that are best for leading me to inner contentment – those that are too complex can be more trouble than their worth.

I’ve found that the universe is more than capable of leading me towards the truth. I choose to call the universe my teacher or sometimes even my God. We can speculate that there is some intelligent entity that cares about my welfare who is providing these teachings, but that just falls under the list of things that I don’t know. I do know that by letting go of many of my older beliefs and just trying to “love what is” my life is improving. I also know that every time I deny what is I suffer. These teachings seem to come pre-packaged in life. I don’t need to understand them in order to benefit from them.

Beliefs and Possibilities

I’m not against the beliefs of other people except where they are obviously causing harm to the rest of us. I like to hear how other humans make sense of this mystery, and I always have to at least consider the possibility that they could be right – the problem is that I can’t accept it as right just because they seem convinced. I’m open to all possibilities. I appreciate the mystery of what is here before me and look upon it as my God. I believe that there is an ultimate purpose, and that we are all part of this purpose, but I don’t pretend to know what it is. My caution around beliefs is not about rejecting anything but about being open to all the possibilities.

Positive Thinking is Not Waiting for Good Stuff to Happen

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I no longer hold the view that thinking positive thoughts mean that I’m entitled to a steady stream of “manna from heaven”. I’ve also found that trying too hard to make myself feel positive can be harmful to me. Positive thinking is becoming more about who I am rather than something I’m trying to force myself to do. By developing a more open relationship to my environment I’m able to let go of beliefs that held me back, I’m clearing the way for a more positive outlook on life. Of course this does not mean that it is all plain sailing, but it does mean that I’m better able to see the good in life even on an otherwise shitty day.

Positive Thinking is Energy

I like to think of positive thinking as a type of energy. It is a force inside that allows me to do the things I need to do in order to find success in life. It is not about lying in bed and waiting for luck to come knocking my door down, it is about getting out of bed each morning with the determination to get something done. This positivity is the exact opposite of the negative energy that wants to pull me down and keep me down. I can now see that this negative energy from self limiting beliefs and self hate.

The positive thinking that benefits my life does not involve waiting for good things to happen to me. I do believe that things will always work out of the best, but this does not mean that they will work out the way that I want them to work out. For me “things working out for the best” means “working out the way they should” – the only way they can work out. By being positive it means that I will be able to make the most of what lies ahead. It means that I’ll be doing the right things so that if manna does start to fall from heaven I’ll be there to catch it. I don’t need the universe to give me what I want – I just need my positive outlook so I can make the best of what I have.