Day 372: The Return Of The Pink Cloud

I’ve spent a lot of time time thinking about where, exactly, a year sober would leave me.

I’ve had a real shit-storm of a summer emotionally and, frankly, toward the middle of August, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it to the year mark. I’d come up with a lot of good reasons that would make it acceptable for me to throw in the towel and down a fifth of Jim Beam like it was a cold glass of water on a hot, hot day.

Little by little, my head broke me down. It told me all kinds of stories about how uneventful having a year in sobriety would be. It told me that my sobriety birthday would be just another day, and, I’d wake up on Day 365 feeling the same, if not worse, as I had on Day 364.

The truth is, when I strip everything down, I had no idea what to expect.

So, I bucked up. I walked into my year just to say I’d done it. I gave up the expectation that some magical rainbow would explode forth from my head, showering me with stars and baby kittens. I decided that I just had to make it, and then, go from there.

Well, it’s true. My head did not explode, raining down glitter and moon beams. But, something changed in me. In that one day. That paradigm. Walking across that invisible threshold gave me something I’ve never had before, faith in myself.

No one else kept me sober this year. This entire year. Sure, when I ran into trouble, I had people to fall back on and prop me up, but, ultimately, if I had wanted to take a drink, honestly, I could have. Stepping into this new year has led me to believe that I can do things on my own. That my will, my spirit, my strength of heart, are actually far more powerful than I had originally surmised.

As I finish up my birthday week, I feel like I can take anything on, literally anything. Because, giving up drinking was the hardest thing, the most impossible thing, that I have ever done in my life. Giving it up, facing myself, gritting my teeth, being uncomfortable…I did it all. And, I did it all so that I wouldn’t drink. And, I didn’t. I have not had a drink in over a year. And, still, saying those words just sounds wrong. It sounds impossible. But, not only is it possible, it’s reality.

I have a new faith that I can change all these other things that seemed so hard: Running, writing a book, starting a small business. It all seems so attainable. And, what’s even better than knowing I can do these things, is that I know that they don’t have to happen immediately. I can work on all these things slowly: a year at a time, a month at a time, a week at a time, and yes, one day at a time. And, I know, deep down, somewhere in my gut, I can accomplish all these things and more.

The “Pink Cloud” has returned.

So, I’ll hop aboard now. I know that these magical clouds and happy thoughts can be short lived.

So, just for today, I’ll enjoy where I am, and be stoked for what’s to come.


Day 365: One Year Sober


I left my apartment for my AA home group this morning, shaking.

My hands clung to the steering wheel. And, for a few moments, I thought the car would spin out of control on its on accord.

This feeling. This incredible and impossible feeling. This sense of sheer hope and accomplishment. It has no description.

I have been sober for a year. One year ago, I started this journey, a woman in tatters. Filled with pain, anger, uncertainly, and fear. I had the best intentions, but set out with skepticism. I had hopes for myself, but no hope with which to realize my dreams. I had plans for myself, but no means to carry them out. I had love in my life, but no ability to see or appreciate it.

Today, I sat in my home group, chairing a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, my meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I heard my fellowship of friends, my battle buddies, say things about me that were so kind, so loving, that to think of myself a year ago, a stranger to all these people, feels almost inhumane. My heart burst.

I am changed.

In ways unthinkable a year ago, and still astounding today, I know who I am. And today, all the mysteries that lay before me seem like miracles, not obstacles.

Today, I have so many things, tangible and intangible, that I did not have a year ago. I have a job I never thought I’d have, and, I’m not fighting tooth and nail to escape. I have, Lars, my boyfriend, with whom I have seen the highest of highs and lowest of lows. And even in my most fearful moments, I stayed with him, because, I’ve learned that not knowing what to do next means you probably shouldn’t do anything just yet. And staying, sticking out the moments I thought I couldn’t handle, I have discovered that I’ve built a love so strong, that I had to redefine love.

Today Lars said things to me in his share in the meeting that opened my heart in ways it could never have opened before. He let me in, in front of a room full of people. And, in doing so, I became able to walk through a door to his heart that I hadn’t even known to be there. And that, that, is sobriety. The world changes before your eyes.

Things are not always as they appear. If you’re new to sobriety, the best advice I can give you is to wait.

Just wait. If you wait, something, and everything, will change.

Change is who we are. A constant flux of growth and decay. And, if you focus your energies on what lies ahead and not on the road you’ve left behind, I think you’ll find everything that falls away, no matter how painful it is in the moment, allows us to become more brilliant than we ever could have imagined. God has arrived. And, for a whole year, I have been the recipient of grace far beyond my deserving or expectation.

My parents came to Portland from NYC to be here for my 1 year anniversary. And, to see their pride, their love, and their acceptance of me and the woman I’m still becoming, made me appreciate all the things they have done for me even more. This infinite gratitude for my life just gets bigger and bigger.

I want to thank you. My loyal readers. I know there are just a few of you, but, writing this blog has helped me to remain present and conscious this year more than you can possibly know. You have given me a voice, even if it is a small one. I know that many of you are sober yourselves, or are trying to get sober, or have loved ones that are on this sobering journey. And, I must say, above all, it is the support I’ve received this year, from so many places, that has kept me afloat. You are a part of that. Thank you.

Now that I’ve done this thing, sobriety, for a whole year, I truly believe I can take anything on. There is so much more.

And, it’s possible.

Anything is possible, if you just give yourself a chance.

Day 348: Moments and Plans and Fears. OH MY!

Whoever said that the few months leading up to a year of sobriety sucked: You are so right.

And while the suckage continues, amazingly, so do the lessons.

I’ve done a lot of reflecting, isolating, complaining, and backtracking recently. But, I’ve also had my mind blown. As I face each new emotion, battle each old demon, I can actually see how much my mind has been opened to the possibility, that maybe, just maybe, I have been wrong about some things my whole life.

And, up until this point, I’ve held on to a lot of shit. Sure, I’ve turned a lot over too. It’s really easy to look at the stuff you turn over. It’s pretty effortless to pat yourself on the back for the small shit that you accomplish in sobriety. But, I’ve found that it’s the big stuff, the stuff that’s hard to conquer, that’s always the last thing I face. And when I stand there, valiantly basking in the glow of my meager accomplishments, patting myself on the back, that’s when the army of elephants I’d been ignoring stomp out.

I’ve noted that Lars and I have has some ups and downs. Of late, it’s been more downs than ups. And, I’ve reverted to some old survival tactics. Mainly: I’m right, he’s wrong. I’ve used my new-found confidence in myself to justify my own self righteousness. And, while there are some things I am, in fact, right about, there are also things that I’m just afraid to look at, afraid to face, and above all: afraid to change.

There is nothing more debilitating than fear. It morphs us into something else. Fear creates other versions of us. Versions that, if we could really see clearly, would not make our true selves very proud.

Amidst an argument with Lars, he changed the focus of our rift. He told me: You’re so focused on what you want, that you don’t see what you have. You think so much about what you should be, that you forget who you are.

At first, I was furious. He changed the fucking subject of our fight. My ability to be present had nothing to do with it. He was deflecting. He was working my program. How dare he?!?! I could work his program for him too, but, I don’t muthafucka!!! I keep my nose out of it! Dammit!

I stewed on it for awhile. And, after cooling down, I asked myself why his interjection got me so fired up. And, it suddenly became really clear. I reacted that way, so adamantly against his presumption, because, well, I was afraid to look at my own shit. I was afraid that maybe he was right. And, when I actually stopped, and held that statement up to the light and tried it against a lot of the problems we’ve had, it’s been a major contributor to our discourse. The things that I haven’t turned over: My plans. What I want. Where I should be.

There’s no God there. No God in my plan, my wishes, my setting. It’s all me. The thing I haven’t let go. I’ve turned over so much that, somewhere, I decided God must be on board with my plan. Why turn that over, he’s working for me, right? Well no. He’s not. I’m working for him. And, by denying myself the joy of living in the moment I’m in, and instead, working in this moment for the next one, I lose a lot.

And, if I continue like this, I lose Lars or he loses me. One or the other.

So, in this moment, I know something new. I know that I have to open my mind to my “now” with Lars, not my “will be.” I also know, that Lars doesn’t get to work my program without getting a few heavy questions from me in return. I learned long ago, in early sobriety, that I don’t have to bury my feelings anymore. I just have to bury the fear.

In this moment: clarity. The next: _________________.

Day 344: Let’s Make A Deal

So much of my sobriety has been a negotiation.

Giving up this for that. Doing one thing instead of the other.

Compromise. No matter how long I do it, it still seems like a tall order. I struggle daily with turning everything over and letting the chips fall where they may. I know that by making the right choices, I help the chips to fall in the best way possible. I accept that in the end, I don’t have the power to determine the whole outcome. I’m just a small part of my own bigger picture.

The problem is knowing what choices to make. Some days, it’s simple. Clear cut. Definitive. I know the best choice. I know what compromise will be the most beneficial to me in the end. But, recently, especially with Lars, I don’t know what the right choices are. They aren’t obvious. It’s a hazy line. And, I don’t know where I’m dipping into self-will and where I’m selling myself short.

I love Lars, but, as time goes on I’m starting to see how very different we can be. And, in sobriety, I’ve learned that differences aren’t necessarily deal breakers. Sometimes differences challenge us to be better people, enable us to see outside our own field of vision, and help us to grow. There are other times, where we have to accept that there are differences that really bring things to a screeching halt. And, we can’t always get past those. Some things are beyond compromise. And, the healthiest thing we can do is be honest with ourselves, and walk away.

Of course I want to work out all these differences with Lars. I want to see how we can each be our own people, true to ourselves, and still find some way to be happy together. But, wanting things can’t always make them a reality. There have been a number of instances recently where the divide between us has grown. And, we’re both present enough to communicate and try to work through them, and even though we’ve recovered from each little explosion, it seems like a little distance remains, and with each negotiation, each compromise, the space between us seems to widen.

I don’t know if this is going to work out. And, the independent, strong part of me wonders if I’m just holding on here because I don’t want to let something fail in sobriety. But, I also wonder if letting go is the strong thing to do, the victory, not the failure. If I were to end things with Lars, it wouldn’t be burning a bridge like it has been with my other relationships. I want Lars in my life. I just don’t know if having him be the role of my leading man is the best part for him, or for me.

So, the negotiation continues. This is a big deal. It holds a big place in my life, and, I won’t make any snap decisions here. But, it’s something to contemplate. What’s the best deal? And, who really gets the crap end of it?

Day 339: Want To Keep It? Give It Away.

Yesterday I met my sponsor.

I told her my recent woes. How I feel like I’m doing all the right things, but I still end up wanting a good, stiff drink. I told her I’d been avoiding meetings. And, this time, it’s not because I’m disenchanted with AA, it’s because I feel like I’ve reached an AA plateau.

I’m sober. I’m staying positive. I’m working my program. But, I’m still crawling into my hole. I was almost embarrassed to admit that, after close to a year in this program, I still don’t have any real recovery friends. I show up to meetings. I know everyone in all my mainstay groups, but, I still feel like an outsider.

She told me that if there was a newcomer at the meeting we go to together right after our one-on-one meeting, I should go up and say “hello.” I immediately recoiled. What was I supposed to say to this hypothetical newcomer? What could I possibly have to offer her? I’ve been here in the rooms of AA for just shy of a year and I’m still a fucking recluse.

After my initial moment of panic, I started to breathe easy. There are seldom newcomers at the women’s meeting we go to together. And, before we even arrived, I considered myself off the hook. I was prepared to sit back in my seat, take in my meeting, and then go home to my cat and marinate in yet another night of Netflix, solo, in bed.

Oh, how the chips of fate do fall. Lo and behold, in our circle of regular ladies sat a new face. She took a 24 hour coin and told her story. And, I’ll admit, I missed a good part of her share stressing out about exactly what I’d say to her once the meeting was over. I tried to smile at her throughout the meeting, hoping to make her feel welcome. Maybe that would be enough?

Well, the meeting ended. And there she stood across the room looking as afraid as I felt. And, I suddenly remembered my first meeting. I wished someone had come up to me that day and told me to be kind to myself, because I had given myself a real mental beating for feeling like I even had to be at an AA meeting. So, that’s what I did. I gave her my phone number and said, “Be nice to yourself. You got here, and it’s a big deal.”

As I walked out of the meeting, I felt like I could have said more, but, I’d done my part. I’d said hello. My sponsor had seen me do it. My work was done.

Well, not quite. Because today the newcomer texted me. She asked me if I was going to another meeting tonight. And, I wigged out. I totally wasn’t going to go to a meeting tonight. I was planning on going straight home from work, making dinner, turning on the tube, and sitting, alone, in front of it. But, I suddenly felt this compulsion to get this girl to another meeting. It was my duty. And, staying home, yet again, isolating was hardly an excuse to blow this girl off. So, I gave her a couple of options for women’s meetings in the Portland area and we met up. And guess who showed up?

My fucking sponsor. And if you all could have seen the shit eating grin on her face, it would have made you smile.

So, maybe this newcomer girl isn’t my new best friend, but seeing her eyes light up at the prospect of getting sober made me hopeful for my own sobriety. I remember feeling the exact same things this girl felt.  And you know, as alone as I still feel today, more than a year after my first AA meeting, my life is so much better. She made me see how far I’ve actually come. And, if she can show up to a meeting two days in a row as a newbie, well fuck, I can say “hi” to a few people I don’t know. Hell, maybe I can even grab a cup of coffee.

They say if you want to keep it, you’ve got to give it away.

And, you know something? They were right.


Day 337: Isolation: It’s Just A Dark Room Where You Develop Your Negatives

Eleven months and two days sober.

So close to a year of sobriety that I can taste it. Yet, wine, bourbon, vodka, I can taste all those things too.

I’ve been on a roller-coaster. Emotionally and mentally. I want to get off this ride and check out. I’ve spent a very good amount of time this week thinking about drinking. Imagining what and where, and how good it would taste and feel. And then I get to the ugly part. I think about the trips and falls, the black outs, the statements that I won’t remember making, the things I’ll lose, the money down the toilet, and this whole almost-year clean and sober – all for naught.

Instead of drinking (or smoking a cigarette–I’ve been off those little suckers for 81 days today!) I stay home, by myself and isolate. I hadn’t been to a meeting in six days until last night. I used the justification that I had to care for Lars for the first few meetings I missed, totally valid, but as the week went on and Lars became more stable, it seemed that it was me that started to lose it.

I didn’t want to do anything. I just lay in bed or on the couch, watching Netflix. Forgetting the world, without really forgetting a thing.

I hate being alone and I love it. It’s a sick, sick thing. The more I isolate, the more I want to just live in this lonely hole forever, never to emerge again. And, simultaneously, I am furious that no one has come for me, angry that I have no one who cares enough to drag me out of this dark, lonely place.

It’s alcoholism. It’s the disease at work. Knowing that if it keeps me away from everyone, angry and alone, eventually, I’ll cave. Eventually, I will go out and buy that bottle of wine or bourbon. Eventually, I will pony up to that bar stool and watch as the bartender pours that ice cold drink.

But, I sit here. Letting it happen. Ruminating and simmering in my own discontent. Wishing I had meaningful relationships outside of my family and Lars. Wishing I had one girlfriend out there that would just intuit that I’d gone postal and come over, purse swinging at her side, cardboard tray of Starbucks beverages in hand, and a pocket-book-pack of Kleenex ready to go for the waterworks that are about to commence. Where is she? My best friend, my back up?

I don’t have one. Because, instead of going to a women’s meeting and chatting with women who are likely to understand me, who could potentially be my friends, I am here. Wiping my cry-baby-snot from my nose with my hand and telling my cat, who has a very confused expression, I might add, that she is all I have in the world.

What makes many of us alcoholics hole up like this? I don’t know.

What’s the solution? Going to meetings? Making friends? Getting a hobby that involves human contact? Yes. Yes. And, yes.

But, I’m still figuring this deal out. I don’t know who I am yet. I don’t know how to make these friendships I’m supposed to have. I just can’t yet. But, I’m not drinking today.

It’s the best I can do some days. Just fuck all, and stay sober.

Day 329: (Higher) Power Play

Lars is back in the hospital.

Things are totally shitty for him right now, and, they have been for a good, long while.

It’s been a string of horrible luck. And, it really leaves me wondering how I can reconcile this place of positivity in my life with seeing his pain and suffering. I haven’t had nearly as many challenges as Lars. Certainly not in the same way. So, as I hang on to my AA tools, desperately, in my own life, I have tried to share my positive thinking with Lars. But, when all is said and done, the truth is, he doesn’t have a lot to be positive about right now.

I feel like a liar telling him that everything will be OK, that God’s plan is at work even if we can’t see it. It doesn’t seem fair. Why would his higher power do this to him? It seems cruel. And, even as an outsider, it’s really hard for me to see the good here. If I were Lars, I’d have a difficult time making a gratitude list too.

While I know I’m powerless in many ways here, I know that Lars’ fragile state gives me an opportunity to be of service. To be a support. A shoulder to cry on. To be a person who prays for others. But, even those things seem useless. I feel like I’m living on two planes of existence: My own and Lars’.

Here I am, watching my life shape up. Changing my thinking so that I can make it through each day. And, at the same time, watching Lars try and try, and watching things slip for him. What makes one person’s experience so different from another’s? Why can’t we all be rewarded for our honest efforts?

These are questions I just can’t answer. And, for me, this is where faith has to step in. I have to have faith even if Lars can’t right now. I have to believe that something bigger is at work here, even if I’m not meant to see or understand it. Because, without that faith, that belief, there’s really no good reason I shouldn’t drink. If bad shit happens, even when you’re trying your damnedest to do the right thing, it seems that the world is just plain cruel. And, while I hate accepting cruelty, if I’m going to survive this planet without liquor, I’m going to have to find faith somewhere.

I have to believe that one of our higher powers is going to make a huge power play, and soon. Because Lars needs it. And, more than anything right now, I want something spectacularly good to happen for him.

It’s hard to know what faith looks like. But, today, faith means that I’m not only going to have to rely on my higher power, I’m going to have to rely on Lars’ too.

Day 325: There Will Be Blood

Get ready. I’m going to go there.

Ladies and Gents, I wouldn’t write this post if I didn’t think that it was absolutely necessary.

But, if I’m going to accurately document sobriety I have to say it: Getting your period in sobriety is a whole new shade of crazy.

I thought I was bitchy, hormonal, and straight up nasty when I started my cycle before I got sober. And, it’s not something that I ever thought I’d have to negotiate in a new way. Folks, I’m no spring chicken. I’ve been getting my period for a long time. And, I thought I knew the ins and out of this joyous slice of female life. I was so, so wrong about that.

The longer I’m sober, the more I feel. And, as most of you ladies (and men who deal with us) know, our cycle is not always the highlight of the month. But, in sobriety, those feelings that I’m still learning to feel and deal with, suddenly, take on epic proportions when my cycle rolls around. Unfortunately for me, I’m still not always aware when those epic feelings are heightened as a result of these hormonal spikes, so, I just think I am batshit crazy. And, truthfully, I still think I might be.

I take things to such an extreme when I’m PMSing in sobriety, that I lose sight of everything. I get to a point where death seems inviting. And, for days at a time, there’s no end in sight. And then, I get my period.

It’s like a fucking biblical revelation.

Of course! This is why I’ve been a maniacal lunatic! It becomes so simple. This reason is so obvious and logical in hindsight, yet, just days before, I was positive the world was going to explode as I shot lasers from my crazy-bitch-eyes deep into the Earth’s core.

Do yourself a solid: Plan for your fucking period. You have to know it’s coming. Map that shit out. You have to be aware that the crazy, unpredictable, and Earth shatteringly depressing thoughts that race through your (or your partner’s) mind, are not, in fact, real. They are the manifestation of female psychosis that will bore a hole into your soul and mind if you’re not careful.

Sorry if you think me crude or explicit. But, bitches, plan ahead: There will be blood.

Day 323: Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Some days, you have to fake it.

It’s a little trick that I’ve learned in the program. No, I don’t lie to my sponsor, or my mom, or Lars, or even myself. I fake being positive. It sounds wrong, I know. But, I’ve been on a stretch, quite a long one, of really bad days.

It’s not one thing. It’s a million. It’s my job. It’s Lars. It’s missing my family. It’s feeling stuck and out to sea simultaneously. It’s not anything that has a quick fix, or even a long term fix. Well, the long term fix is staying sober and learning to be happy in sobriety.

As I ease into my new life of working girl with mediocre pay, busy boyfriend, and far-off family, everything feels out of my control and shows no sign of changing. This is being an adult. Dealing with the same day to day shit. Getting by. Being bored, and, in my case, sad.

I get up every day and go to my morning AA meeting. If I don’t, I spend the day in a downward spiral. I go to my meeting for my daily dose of positivity, because without it, I’m pretty sure I’d be suicidal. I pray in the car as I drive across the bridge over the Willamette River on my way into work. I ask God to make this day: good, bearable, and fast-moving. I focus on the next thing I have to do. Some days I feel like I’m in a rat race and the finish line is my couch, where I zone out and watch four hours of crappy Portland news shows. What a prize!

This morning, I began my Sunday with my step study meeting. And, as I sat there, I asked myself, ‘Why am I doing this?’

It’s past the point where a bad day is a good reason to drink. These days, a “good” day is a reason to drink. But, sometimes I wonder what all this faux positive thinking is really doing for me. Is this why people think that AAs are brainwashed? Are we? I left my meeting feeling hopeless. My faux smile has lost its glitter. I went home and sat on the couch asking myself some big questions. Why am I doing this? Why?

I was still wondering at 10:08AM. I had to leave to drive across town for my women’s meeting, if I still planned on going. Which was another question I was pondering. But, I got up and went. And, I sat in the circle of my whiny-lady brethren. I listened to the screaming children in the other room. I watched the tears flow from other women’s eyes, and, suddenly, I felt them well up in my own. I was crying. Crying, in this meeting where I have always held back. Where I have kept it together, because, damn it, I don’t want to be the the woman who is known for her hormonal water-works. But, without warning it came, like a muthafuckin’ tsunami.

When the circle came around to me, I let loose. I told those bitches what was up. I’m so fucking sick of trying so hard. Sick of waking up every day to get my ass to a meeting that barely gets me through the morning. I am sick of constantly “working on things” with Lars, sick of being far way from my family, sick of feeling unappreciated at a job where I am still a newbie, already lost in a mountain of paperwork. Sick of it all. Tired of trying. Where is this program getting me? What is it getting me?! Why am I so hell bent on believing this works, when it’s not fucking working!

And, then, I looked around the room. I saw tears in the eyes of the women sitting around me. They totally and completely understood me and my absolute frustration and dismay. And, they saw me. For the first time, they had seen me completely broken and vulnerable. And, as I frantically wiped the tears from my eyes, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

THIS is why I’m working this program. THIS. These women. They are still sober. They’ve done this. They’ve been where I am this morning. They’ve sat in this very seat. Hating themselves, hating sobriety. They are all crying because I made them remember how hard THIS part of sobriety was for them. They had to fake it ’til they made it too. And it was brutal. It was cruel and unusual. It was painful and uncomfortable. But, they made it. And, I will too. It won’t be today, but, I’ll make it too.

And, THAT is why I’m working this program. Faux smile and all.

Day 316: The Woman I Am

Times have been rough.

I’ve wanted to use. A lot.

And, my way of dealing with this blog has been to ignore it.

I have virtually no readers but, for the few people that do visit, I didn’t want to write about the messy shit. And, as I sat in my AA meeting this morning, I felt the need to write. I was daunted by all the catching up I had to do. Missing many posts for many, many days of sobriety. Hard days of sobriety. Days where my experience “should” have been documented.

After all, hasn’t my goal been to chart my sobriety. To note the ups and downs, have a daily post for every denial, heartache, success, and triumph?

Well, the truth is, when I strip away everything. When I look at what I set out to do and what I’ve done, what I thought would happen and what actually happened, well, they don’t match up, at all. And, that’s life.

My goal to write every day, has been a noble one. I’ve done the best I can, even when I’ve given up and ignored this quest to write, I can assure you that I’ve still endeavored to be my best self.

My best self, is this person writing right here, right now. I am who I am today. And, that woman is sober. That woman, she can’t write everyday, or, she won’t. And, she certainly can’t paint a glorious picture of perfect sobriety, because there is no such thing.

As I trudge through these months leading up to a year of sobriety, I sit in honest fear of relapse, every day. I feel it sneaking up on me like a purse-snatcher. And, while it hasn’t happened, and I can’t predict what will or will not happen, I know that this feeling of wanting to be anywhere else and feel anything other than I feel is the main reason I got wasted.

I want to check out. I curse the fact that as an active AA and that I have to wake up every day and be present for these feelings. I resent having to work at feeling OK and, most days, end up feeling decidedly not OK. But, I still make the decision not to drink. And then I go to sleep and I wake up and I do it again.

So, as I write, I feel somewhat better for coming clean, saying that I think life is shitty right now, that I don’t want to be sober, that I don’t want to write, that I am OK, or at least trying to be, with squelching on a commitment that I made to you, my readers, and to myself, I know that on some level I’m doing the right things.

This isn’t easy. It isn’t a joy ride. And, as much as I’ve wanted to paint this picture of constant growth and upward transition into healthy and happy living, I can’t. I’m not God, I’m not in control, and I don’t want to be anything other than I am today, because, I just can’t.

Here in Portland, it’s 9AM. And, in two hours, the pub around the corner opens. And, more than anything, I want to go sit on my old bar stool and suck back five bloody Mary’s. I want to laugh, meaningless laughter, with the regulars, I want to stumble home and lay on my couch and watch TV. But, I’m not going to do that.

I’m going to go to my women’s meeting at 10:30AM. And, I’m going to stay sober today. And when I wake up tomorrow, wanting, yet again, to drink myself into a stupor instead of going to my job where I feel like a worker on an assembly line, I’m going to go to my 7AM AA meeting and then, I’m going to drive to work and stand at the proverbial conveyor belt.

Because, I know what being drunk gets me. I know I don’t want that.

But, God, I want to be drunk. So fucking drunk.