I HATE early recovery.

The one thing that sucks about early recovery is the lack of stability in your emotions. For example, I have drifted through and cycled back through a variety of emotions this morning before it even reached 10:00 a.m. I woke up irritable, then drifted into some hope, then I engaged in a Twitter conversation that irritated me, then depressed me and I sunk into a depressive mood, and then I felt irritation again and went back through it all. The lack of control on my emotions just pisses me off like you can’t imagine. To say it’s a trigger is an understatement, because within drinking I find a “solution” to me feelings. What I’m saying is that I am a “solution drinker” and not a “problem drinker”.

I know this is part of the process. Early sobriety is full of doubt, full of self-loathing, full of emotional ups and downs, full of physiological responses as the body adjusts to being alcohol free. I know this, but like most things I know about my alcoholism, I also know this is part of the problem – I give into how I feel over what I know. I allow feelings to delude my thinking on all of this. I guess what I really hate about all of it is the simple fact that early soriety just fucking sucks. There is no nice way to put it. I know I’m white-knuckling right now and I know I need to get out of my own head and I do intend to do it, but I haven’t figured out how yet.

But, this is also a nice reminder that I don’t want to do this anymore and unless I get sober, it is inevitable that I will have to deal with early sobriety again. I want to avoid this.  Avoiding uncomfortable feelings is my specialty – it’s literally the reason I have found so much comfort in drinking – drinking allowed me to avoid how I feel and it allows me to avoid my own mind. That’s the fucking shit of it all…

I have to face this.  There is no avoiding it any longer.

I’m on Day 2.

Please pray for me. I need it.

22 thoughts on “I HATE early recovery.

  1. You got this. Don’t ever doubt it. If you fall you get right back up… I drank my way through my 20s. I had so much pain on the inside, so much hurt, that if I would drink enough it would all go away. That was my theory everyday. Drink and it goes away… Go to sleep, wake up depressed, drink again to forget again. I lost 10 valuable years with my children I could no longer get back. I mean I was their mom and they never went without clothing or food but they lost alot of me. Time I wasted on drinking. A part of being their mother and what they needed was doing something else. I would lay in bed all day and drink all night. Every day and night. I regret all those days… All of them. But if I hadn’t dropped to the bottom I don’t think I could of ever seen that that was all I was ever going to gain from drinking. A life alone. Drowinging in my sorrows. Thinking with every sip I was going to forget and everything would be better.. Only to repeat the same day over and over for about 10 years…alot had happened to me and I really thought if I kept drinking all of it would and could go away some day.
    It never goes away. You make that decision to stop and you stick to it. When you fall, get back up, try even harder… Listen, only you can change you… Reach out for help. I’m here I will help you, I will encourage you… You can do this! Find your inner strength♥
    Best wishes to you my friend♥

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Reading this really got to me. I’ve been suffering with this for over 10 years. The drinking really got to be a dependence about 10 years ago. The depression just completely sucks…

      I’ll take the encouragement and help and I truly appreciate you sharing this with me. ❤


      1. No problem, anytime! Depression is nasty, it’s stinks and it will destroy you if you allow it.. Please know you are worthy and you are loved…..

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m wondering if you’re going about this the “wrong” way. You’re trying to stop doing something that, so far, ain’t working for whatever reason. Unless I’m wrong, it’s not like you’re guzzling beer “all day long,” and downing it by the case whenever the need to have a beer hits you; it’s one or two brewskis, you get pissed for falling off the wagon yet again, and the pattern repeats.

    So maybe abstinence isn’t what’s gonna work – it’s moderation. My question is can you find a way to live with yourself – and be okay with yourself – if you only frequently have a beer since you also seem to be dead-set against making it a more serious habit?

    As I’ve shared, my father and his whole side of the family were not only alcoholics, they were functional alcoholics and, as such, I learned the problem with excessive drinking and decided I was going to break the pattern. So after my teenaged bout with drinking, I didn’t as much give it up as I resolved to do so in moderation and, importantly, not to drink in stressful situations. I’d get off from work a lot of times, totally stressed out and that “I need a drink!” thought would hit me… and I’d ignore it. Yeah, sometimes, I’d have one – and the operative word is “one.”

    The last time I had a drink was New Years Day this year; if I have two drinks in a year, it’s probably because I’m just being social but since I somehow get to be the designated driver when we go to parties and other gatherings, that works – I don’t drink because I don’t need a DUI charge. I’m looking at a bottle of very good wine that I’ve had for almost two years and it hasn’t been uncorked. Sometimes, when the symptoms of my stroke – or the other shit wrong with me – comes to visit, I think about uncorking that bottle… and I don’t do it. We took my wife out for her birthday Saturday and everyone was drinking except me because, of course, I was driving.

    I had a Coke. I know this is me but the main thing is as they say: Everything in moderation and I’d guess for you, the way to achieve a state of moderation is when you feel the need for a beer, just tell yourself why you shouldn’t have one at that moment. Or don’t have any beer in the house so if you need to get one, you’re gonna have to get in the car and get it and maybe you think, eh, I don’t feel like driving to get just one beer – I’m tired, whatever. If you’re already out and driving and decide stopping somewhere for a beer is a damned good idea, just think about having to explain to the cops who just might stop you why you smell like a brewery and having to experience a field sobriety test – and one you just might fail.

    Maybe what you need to do is to teach yourself not to have a beer when you think you gotta have one. Find a reason – any reason – not to do it. If you find yourself think about having one, get pissed that the thought even popped into your head – and don’t have one.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I always appreciate your insight and advice, but I have to say that although my norm is a couple of beers at a time, there have certainly been times I’ve drank a 6 pack or more in a sitting. I guess, ultimately, I just don’t know if am an alcoholic…


      1. I don’t know either… but you seem to think that you are; otherwise, you wouldn’t be going through all of this angst. AA works for some… and doesn’t for others – just the way it is and I know it never worked for my dad. So given this one has two choices: Find some way to cut back or eliminate drinking… or just give up and let whatever happens to happen and, generally, I’d say this “option” is never a good one.

        You have a lot of shit going on around what’s supposed to be and what things really are. “Supposed to be” is usually idealistic and, sometimes, unrealistic; it’s a fairy tale that some folks have trouble living up to. Being real with yourself says, “Okay – this is who I am right now; this is how my life is going right now and there are some things I need to change, like laying off the beer and not using it as a crutch when my life, as it is right now, gets skewed.

        I have always said that in all things, there’s the way things are supposed to be… and then there’s how they really are and they are rarely the same things for everyone. So, just like with your sexuality, this is about acceptance of the way things are; you don’t like hitting the beer so much, AA ain’t working for you so now you gotta do something else that, admittedly, isn’t going to be easy to do: Stop drinking beer and especially when you get stressed. Find something else to do. Do some aversion therapy on yourself and think about how fucked up things can be if you keep stress drinking – then don’t do it. If you’re gonna have a beer, limit yourself to one or two and with the purpose of not getting a beer buzz.

        And get it in your head that any problems you currently have are not going to go away when you drink: They will be sitting right there waiting for you and you will always have one more problem tacked on because you had a beer or two or six and you know you shouldn’t have – and then the cycle continues and that, my friend, hasn’t been a good thing for you.

        My question to you is do you really want to get this particular monkey off your back? And, if so, what are you willing to do to send the monkey packing or, at the very least, keep the fucker in his cage?

        I’ll even challenge you and ask where did your martial arts discipline go? Ya might not be able to hit the dojo but you don’t need a dojo to remember the discipline you were taught.

        I don’t.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Things my sponsor told me when I sobered up —

    Normal people don’t have a problem quitting alcohol.
    Getting sober should be hard, painful and scary. It’s the price of admission to a new life.
    I can do this a day at a time, an hour at a time, a minute at a time.
    Help someone. Get out of myself. That’s one reason to go to meetings. Pour coffee, talk with the new person, A, B, C’s – clean ashtrays, grab the broom, wash the cups.

    My experience is that it is painful to get sober but very with the endeavor. I knew how to be a drunk. I used alcohol to keep me safe, isolated and insolated from the realities of growing up, functioning and participating. It worked until it didn’t. Alcoholism infested every aspect of my life. Even when I was dry, my life was a horrible mess.

    I have been sober for over 31 years and I still do the things that I did when I started.
    I go to meetings (2-3 a week), make and pour coffee, talk with the new guy, call my sponsor, read the big book, laugh, cry, and feel. I hope that I never forget what it was like to get sober. The snakes and quakes in my shoes, the fear, the doubt, the hopelessness, the hope.
    The realization that I was screwed both drunk and dry. Thank god for those old-timers that took the time to sit and talk with me about living sober. It’s the price I was willing to pay.

    Breathe. This too shall pass.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Although I read this entire comment, I think the thing that stands out the most is that what I have to go through in early sobriety is the price of admission to a new life. That makes a lot of sense to me.


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