10:58 PM, Sunday, July 8th, 2012
Day 37 sober. Day 30 smoke-free. 170(?) lbs.
This weekend has not been my favorite by any stretch of the imagination. The diet has been pretty shit and my attitude has been pretty shit. I’ve woken up tired and lack the desire necessary to relish in caffeinating and hitting the ground running.
The novelty of routine just isn’t there for me this time around. To say it plainly, I’m not enjoying life, I am enduring it. What solace I find comes in the form of distraction. I thoroughly detest the role distraction plays in today’s society and the realization that my own happiness (or, rather, lack of crippling depression) is predicated by it gnaws at me.
Went to AA This evening. The topic asked those of us attending about our “ah-ha!” moment—that moment when we realized why we were in the program, or more accurately, why we had committed to working it. Mine was very simple, “Because if I drink anymore, I will die.” I know this. There are few things that I doubt less in this world (and none which come to mind presently).
That got me thinking about the ‘bitter end.’ On page 25 of the BB (4th), it says that “we had passed into the region from which there is no return through human aid, we had but two alternatives: One was to go on to the bitter end, blotting out the consciousness of our intolerable situation as best we could; and the other, to accept spiritual help.”
Then, on page 152: “He cannot picture life without alcohol, Some day he will be unable to imagine life either with alcohol or without it. Then he will know loneliness such as few do. He will be at the jumping-off place. He will wish for the end.” It goes on to pose the question, how can one continue without liquor? Is there a sufficient substitute? The substitute suggested as sufficient by the Big Book is the fellowship.
Even now, when I hear this passage quoted in one way or another in the rooms of AA, it’s difficult for me to suppress the urge to roll my eyes.
When I got sober in 2008, I really did put my life together in such significant and undeniable ways that it amazed everyone around me (including, and especially, me). I was happy. 2009 was definitely the happiest year of my life (that’s not a hugely difficult bar to surpass, but still). It is because of this memory and because I know I am still in early sobriety and working the early steps that I chose to continue this program at least for the time being. I just find it difficult at times to completely buy into all of this. The people of AA “insist on being happy, joyous, and free.” Happy, joyous, and free, Happy joyous, and free, Happy joyous and free. Well, I’m not.
And I’m not saying that AA or alcoholism is entirely or even mostly the cause of my dissatisfaction with life. I just don’t feel like I was created for this society. I don’t know how I will ever be happy and functional. I don’t see how I will ever have a family, or even find lasting love. I feel dysfunctional. I feel well-enough equipped to live out my life (maybe), but have no idea how I would do so happily.
The bottom line is this, and it’s more than a little terrifying. If I can live until change checks drop sometime near the start of September, then I will be in a position to make my choice. The bitter end, or the sober life. The bitter end unfolds something like this: I burn through about 9000 dollars worth of change-check in scholarships and grants just riding this damned thing down into the dirt, recklessly trying to bring about the end through any number of careless actions which could see me dead or imprisoned. Once something so ghastly happens that my life becomes irreversibly altered for the worse, or, upon the inevitable onset of complete financial ruin, then comes the suicide solution. I will spare the detailed description of that specific option (which likely would have been carried out long ago if Dad were not still alive).
This terrible honest truth laid out in the words above is what my mind toys with daily. All kinds of ridiculous scenarios play themselves out. Many begin with me just getting in my Jeep and driving toward who-knows-where with what could only be called a genuine death wish.
Some girl on here has a tumblr called “sobriety killed the poet.” She posted something along the lines of “I’m surprised no one has asked what my url means.” I responded that it was pretty fucking obvious. Sure, I could live out my days in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, being an upright citizen and satisfying all the requirements of living as a gainful, contributing member of society, but at what cost?
I’ve always relished experience. I’ve cried tears of joy before, and I’ve had some of the most treacherous and appalling experiences as well. Even in the most desperate and miserable of times, I appreciate life. I appreciate the opportunity to be able to feel something so pure and severe, good or bad! I want the full spectrum of human experience available to me, I want that as my pool for inspiration and wisdom. I want the excitement, I want to feel everything as fully as possible.
While I was sober, it was nice. I accomplished so much, I truly turned things around and my actions rewarded me with new opportunities that I had honestly written off as, by then, impossible for someone like me… but, my writing was awfully boring…