Today is a bit of a free rambling expression of my mind.
To say I struggle with alcohol is an understatement. I can’t seem to quit drinking. That’s all there is to it. The mere inkling of a suggestion for a drink has me soaking it up like a fish out of water. I whine about it. I cry about it. I make excuses about it. I lie to myself about it. But what do I truly do about it? Absofuckinglutely nothing.
I mean, it’s a choice, right? I can make that choice anytime I want to not drink another beer. Or at least that must be the lie I tell myself. It’s a broken record, honestly. I keep saying it and I keep wanting it and I have done nothing to actually change it. Fall down 8 times and get up 9 is the common thing I hear or read when I discuss this matter. I know that’s all possible, but I guess what it really boils down to is the fact that I have not accepted my own powerlessness and helplessness when it comes to drinking. I’ve written about it before, but it’s blatantly obvious I have not accepted it.
My ego prevents it.
I pray about it, as it’s been suggested. I’ve begged God for the gift of desperation as I’ve heard members of Alcoholics Anonymous have told me. I’ve prayed a lot for it, in fact. I feel like in some way I am refusing the obvious – like my sexuality, like my need to fill the anxious gut-wrenching hole I feel in my existence. Sometimes, I feel like I create some sort of existential crisis as a means of dealing with what I dislike about myself – something that probably matters to no one outside of myself, but is infused into my own psyche as something that shouldn’t be true.
However, what if everything I’m writing right now is my desperation? What if it’s finally hit and I’m avoiding it and running from it like a scared little child? And the existential crisis might actually be the fact that feelings do not equal facts. And I’m beginning to think I’ve tried to force my feelings into being facts – something that no one would have the power to do, right?
I think I’m finally there. I think I’m finally at the dropping off point.
I just need to take the next step…going back to a meeting. Going back to working with a sponsor. Going back to facing the responsibilities of the challenges of my life.
I am going to make yesterday my last beer.
The Ides of March…is there irony in this? I think there might be.