Resurrection

Unmade BedI obviously suck at sticking to commitments. I have many examples but right now I’m referring to the fact that I told myself I would write every day.

I’m not fucking up again (yet), I’m still sober. I shared in a meeting a few days ago, which never happens. It’s progress.

Some things:

  1.  So I know why I relapse. Every time it’s a result of me letting one small problem turn into a compilation of problems and then I get depressed. I stay in bed. I don’t talk to anyone. I convince myself that I’m in “hiding,” and then I tell myself that I’ll come out when I’m better mentally. When I’m hotter physically. When I like myself.
  2. This never happens. Instead, I come out of hiding when another problem happens and I decide that enough shit has happened to create a good answer for the “Why’d you relapse?” question to come.
  3. Except it’s never a “good answer,” it is always an excuse. But I feel justified in my slip up nonetheless because I have this list I made in my head of all the reasons my life is shit and why getting high is better than solving the problems at hand.
  4. My dad told me I let small problems become big problems. He says he doesn’t understand why I don’t ask for help when the first problem arises. He asks why I wait until I feel like the sky is falling before I do anything.
  5. We had that talk a few days ago. Maybe a week ago, not sure. Doesn’t matter.
  6. I’ve noticed two things since that conversation with my dad: I don’t put my phone on the charger until it’s dead and I don’t fill my gas tank until its on empty. It’s like I don’t give a shit about tending to things until they require a full blown resurrection.

Last night in an AA meeting this lady with little time sober made the comment, “…it blows my mind that the same brain keeping me sober today is the same brain that led me to institutions and jail…”

I just keep thinking about it.

I almost took steps towards getting a sponsor within the program but talking scares the shit out of me. I do not know the meaning of the word honesty. I lie all the fucking time. For no reason. And I wish me saying that was another lie but admitting how full of shit I am is the most honest thing I could ever say.

What I said in #1 about going into hiding probably already made this clear, but in case it didn’t: I really like being alone.

Or maybe it’s not that I like being alone, but I really like not having anyone to answer to. I don’t like being held accountable, that’s a problem I have.

I do not like talking about what is wrong because I do not want to be held accountable.

You know, I really don’t have one person in my life that knows everything. I think that’s why getting a sponsor scares me so much. I am not down to take my inventory and I am most definitely not fucking ok with the idea of sharing all my shit with someone, much less someone who tells me to “hit my knees in the morning” and ask “God” to keep me sober.

(But hey if you’re real, please help. I’m not struggling with the sobriety thing right now, I don’t need more legal problems. Or more nod holes in my clothes. But I’m struggling with just about everything else.)

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