Being sober is like being a runner
I am completely certain that alcohol binds us.
Fear of feeling deprived kept me deprived.
I am an Anticipation Junkie.
The 6a.m.-6p.m. guard is so healthy and strict. But the 6p.m.-6a.m guard is gonna get me killed.
Heaven is in a glass of wine. but so is hell.
I took a couple classes in high school and college, but I didn’t have the time to really study the subject..
I don’t know much about golf but I have heard of the ol“Golfers Handicap” as a technique to level the playing ground for players.
When did “drinking” become the key to fun? When did we decide if we are going to have a nice time or a nice meal then there would NEED to be alcohol?
it starts in the dark like a blind women feeling her way around an unfamiliar room…
No one tells the story very loudly. I mean, I never knew the rest of the story or how it unravels, i never watched anyone live a sober life…
i drank to stop worrying about stuff, so now, interestingly, i don’t worry more i just realize what i was worried that i would worry about is nothing to worry about. the ghost under the bed was the cat…
Slip’n forward, indeed. Whether it “seems” to be going fast or slow, it is definitely ticking away.
Drinking Diaries: the Changing of the Guards.
I swear it was like we hadn’t talked. Like we hadn’t agreed on a specific plan, strategy or arrangement for the night. I was clear and direct with the guard (about only having a couple or not drinking at all) but for some reason my wishes were not carried out. I realized that there was a changing of the guard. From 6am-6pm there was one way of thinking. Okay, I said, “don’t let more than one or two pass the threshold and lock the gate at 11pm”. The guard assured me, took notes, informed the others on shift that this was not to be ignored. But, that guy would go home at 6pm and the fucking evening guard would come in all lazy and “whatever”.
He was apparently stationed from 6pm-6am and he had his own way of doing things. He would read the notes and nod. But two or three would enter and then a third would ask if others could join, they would bring unwanted guests. They all seemed nice but were up to no good. They stayed late, later than I had originally requested. They were sometimes foul mouthed, they were sometimes unpleasant. At 6 a.m., like clock-work, the Good Guard would return. He would respond to my disdain with “I told you to fire him” “you knew he would do that” “he never obeys your wishes, he isn’t well”.
I wanted peace. I wanted control. But I wasn’t willing to fire him because it would require effort to train another guard, hire evening security, hell, maybe just do it myself.
I kept that idiot guard for years out of laziness. He got worse.
Do you relate?
Well I fired the evening guard. And no one gets through without my authority. As in, I got my life back. I got my trust of myself back. I now protect my sobriety like it’s my breath, but, like a security guard, with my revolver, flashlight and my wide- eyed awareness.
If you feel like you are passionately two different people with regard to alcohol or food. You are NOT alone.
There is a way out of the schizophrenia. Re-hire yourself back onto the night shift. It takes a big “shift” but you can do it.