Thoughts. I’ve been having them. A lot of them.
All this fucking contemplation takes a toll. Full time recovery, for me, looks something like full time reflection, plans for action, plans in action, go go go.
I’m tired. I’m tired of thinking. About recovery, about everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disgruntled. I’m actually more optimistic than I’ve been in awhile. I’m hopeful. But, I’m tired. And, I’ve said this before, but, when I quit my job to throw myself into recovery, full time, I didn’t realize that I’d actually have more on my plate than when I was working sixty hours a week.
Tonight, after my 6PM AA meeting, we had our monthly business meeting. It was a shit show. Disorganized, I floundered with no help whatsoever from the GSR. Another AA, one with time, who isn’t in a service position with our meeting, had to step in and help us accomplish what we needed to accomplish. I felt like a total asshole. I chalked it up to being AA. We’re not an organization, why the fuck would our meeting be organized? I flailed, but, the show went on, ended, and no one was worse off for it. Sure, I looked like an incompetent twit, but, it certainly wasn’t the first time I came across as a moron, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
As I drove home, chain smoking, and blasting the radio, I started to feel better. It seemed like the louder I turned up the stereo, the calmer I got. And, it dawned on me: I’m really fucking sick of hearing myself think. I’m tired of figuring out what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing, and I’m tired of squeezing it all into this nice, little pill to swallow and digest.
Lars was occupied for the night with friends. And, I was glad to come home and not have to process another thing or another person. I don’t think I could have handled another conversation today. I walked straight to the bedroom from the front door, changed into my pajamas, and climbed into bed.
I listened to three meditation tapes, long ones, and my mind didn’t drift off once. I didn’t want to think my own thoughts. I wanted to hear some lofty, woo-woo, bitch’s voice cooing me into a relaxed vegetative state, all while the sounds of babbling brooks and cockatoos crowed in the background.
Then, like a little kid on a bright blue mat at nap time, I conked the fuck out.