Category Archives: Bad Day

The Days are Just Packed

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Day 253

The leaves are falling like multicolored raindrops, pumpkins are perched on porches, and that candy-corn crap that tastes like chalk is on sale; all telltale signs of October, yet I woke up this morning having no idea what month we’re in.  I mean I really had to think, which was initially unsettling.  Aren’t I supposed to be restoring my sanity, not losing it?

It turns out there is a simple explanation; time flies.  What a relief, I’m not crazy…okay I am a little crazy, but this sensation is normal; it’s just something I have not experienced in a very long time.  My life is full again and it’s moving faster than that starship in Star Wars.  I wish I had an ewok as a pet…Anyway…

Time in early-early sobriety moved slower than a three-toed sloth, probably because I was in so much pain; every step was excruciating, and I fought practically every inch of the way.  I wish someone had told me sooner that alcoholism is 90% thinking and 10% drinking; maybe it would’ve made those days easier.  Probably not. Fighting is inevitably painful and drawn-out whether it be against time, people, or Alcoholics Anonymous.

I have documented almost everyday of sobriety since my first AA meeting, and sometimes when I feel like I’m the same person who walked through the doors 253 days ago; all I have to do is scroll up.   Entries in the beginning had a common thread of agonizing resistance, and skepticism that almost took me out one hundred times.

Maybe I read too much Carl Sagon as an undergraduate, but I wanted to question everything about this program.  I wanted answers to the reasoning behind all steps and suggestions.  I wanted to debunk the theory of AA.  This skepticism, coupled with a yearning to bolt back to California made life drag on for a while.

By the grace of my Higher Power, I have stayed long enough to accept what I do not understand.  Acceptance has allowed me to let go; letting go let me surrender.  The moment I stop resisting the pain starts subsiding.  I’ve learned in the rooms that to surrender literally means to go to the winning side; surrender is what has saved my sobriety,  it’s given me a life so full I can barely keep up, and an awareness of what I need to keep going.

Time is flying because I have willingness to be a better person tomorrow than I was today.  The days are packed because I have accepted that I don’t know much, and there’s a lot more to learn.  Today, for example, I have learned that we are in the month of October, which means I must accept that I am approaching my first sober Halloween.  Weee.  Maybe I’ll dress up as Bill Wilson.

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But Why is the Good Mood Gone?

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I wrote this last night…not exactly my most inspirational shit.

Day 242

I want to live in a world where if I wake up in a good mood, I have the right to retain that positive condition for the duration of my day.  Let’s take this morning, for example; woke up thrilled to be alive.  Before the day even started there was prayer, meditation; I almost skipped out of the house leaving flower petals in my path, like a friggin Disney princess.

Fast forward to tonight.  Here I am sitting at my kitchen table positively apoplectic at nothing and everything, with a ‘tude that’ll probably land me on Isolation Island.  Isolation Island is the place I refer to when I shut down.  Kind of like the government, only they’ll be bullheaded idiots forever.  Anyway…. I digress.  Back to hating myself and everyone involved.

For me nothing is more annoying than someone trying to take my bad mood away–sounds childish, I know, but maybe isolating myself just to feel the shittiness of a situation is what helps most. I feel an extreme loathing toward AA right now, and AA is always talking about feeling feelings, and this is what I’m feeling.  AA is also always talking about bullshit that makes me want to bang my head against every door of the church on my way out, which I came close to doing this evening.

The topic for discussion was willingness.  What a stupid fucking topic.  I wanted to share and say to the leader,

“Hey lady, our asses are glued to these foldout chairs aren’t they?  These moronic made chairs that are physically impossible to sit comfortably on?  If we weren’t willing, why else would we subject ourselves to this torture chamber?  And why are you talking to a room of willing people about willingness?  Why not go to a bar, find the alcoholics still drinking, and talk to those messes about getting their shit together.”  The speaker is someone I actually respect so I held my tongue.

When the discussion closed I bolted down the staircase before the ceremonial recitation of the Lord’s Prayer.  I didn’t put my chair away, either, I wonder if that’s double whammy AA blasphemy.  To be on the safe side I apologized to my HP as I power-walked through the parking lot.

I’m not sure at what point today or tonight my good mood started checking out but I can pinpoint where it was totally annihilated.   It wasn’t when I had to shell out $660 to a tax collector agency; (for a drunk accident last year, I tripped over a boat…different story), it wasn’t the stupid fucking topic, it was a casual drive through town that has sent me over the edge.

There’s a little Italian restaurant near my house where my friends and I would wine and dine every once in a while.  I’ve passed this place over 100 times since I got sober and it’s never made my heart hurt or my anger flare like it has tonight, and it was triggered by two complete strangers and some cancer sticks.

My mind was staring blankly at the red light in front of me, numbing out from the nonsensicalness of the meeting, and the restaurant was to my right.  Two men walked outside, lighting up cigarettes.  That’s all it took.  I am suddenly so fucking angry at my sobriety.

Cravings pass–they turn me into a ballistic fire breathing human dragon, but they pass.   This isn’t about not being able to drink in the moment; it’s about not being able to drink ever.   It’s feeling like I’m missing out on parts of life because of my sobriety; those parts I miss now and I’ll probably miss always.  It is infuriating and depressing all at once.  Seeing those men outside the restaurant has brought the consequences of sobriety to the forefront, because I used to stand outside that restaurant, with cigarettes, and friends, and have nights to get ready for.  I don’t feel like I’ve been freed from a disease, I feel like I’ve been sentenced to sober hell.  I do dramatic really well.

I don’t care how ridiculous it is that I miss smoking cigarettes outside a fancy restaurant, or how “first world” problematic it sounds.  Trust me I know the pettiness of these “issues” in the grand scheme things, but that recognition doesn’t make my reality any less painful.  I am officially in full fledge everything-is-about-me mode.

Blah blah blah, ego ego ego, insert AA jargon here.  Still not listening.

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Top 10 Reasons To Avoid the Grocery Store

I’ll go weeks without grocery shopping for these reasons:

1. The parking lot is the worst.  How many times have you pulled halfway into a spot just to find there’s a shopping cart hiding?   Some people may get out of their car, move the shopping cart, get back into their car, pull into the spot and go about their day of errands.  I turn into the Hulk with a license, throw my truck in reverse, turn green, (because I’m the Hulk), and drive 25mph to the end of the lane.  Screw you, sneaky shopping cart.

2.  The pedestrians in the parking lot, ALL of them. Especially the ones meandering down the middle of the row, pretending to be oblivious to my 3,000lb steel machinery with wheels inching behind them at 0mph. Then they’ll casually glance over their shoulder, and some will start ebbing their way to the right or left.  WALK FASTER. Or I will bitch slap you, with my truck.  Twice.

3. Can we talk about the hellish heat that radiates from the asphalt of the parking lot in the summer? It’s like living in the desert scene of “Fievel Goes West.”

4. You can’t go anywhere but home after going to the grocery store in the summer, because we all know what happens; wilted lettuce, melted goop, warm milk, puke.  You’re stuck.  See a friend on the way home, want to stop and chat?  Too bad, your groceries are mere seconds away from perishing.

5. While we’re on seasons should I mention how much I abhor getting blasted by cold air after exiting the grocery store, and when there’s SLUSH on the ground? And the cart is all squeaking and halting because it is not snow proof. Omg forget it.  I’ll eat snow from the front yard, thanks.

6. The grocery store is fucking worst before any weather malady; blizzards, thunders, hurricanes, “tropical storms,” you name it.  There WILL be those crazy bitches stocking up on enough bread for the next 10 years and there will be daft macho men buying $600 snow blowers and building bomb shelters telling everyone the world is going to end.  Take it easy, pal.

7. Being inside the grocery store in general is enough to send me into a pandemonium panic.  There are about 40,000 items in the typical grocery store.  FORTY THOUSAND.  This means I have to spend 20 minutes scanning 50 different brands of granola bars. I would rather collect oats from the ground and mash them together with my adhesive saliva.  I realize that sounds disgusting. I don’t care.

8.  I refuse to go to Siberia aka the freezer section.  Is it really necessary to reenact the ice age in aisle six?  Plus, you know if you buy anything frozen you’re going to get home, open the freezer, and there will never be enough room, because it’s jam crammed with all the shit you never use, usually stuffed in the back which you may never see again.  Freezers are stupid. Then you’re faced with the stuff-and-shove-and-shut-the-door-quickly routine.  This may not be applicable for everyone but it is for me, and ice cream ain’t worth it.

9. One word: Checkout….Don’t even get me started.

10. The drive home from the grocery store you’re exhausted from all the idiots and shopping carts and coupon clippers holding up the line.  Your eyes are probably burning from shifting your stare between 20 different kinds of soy milk.  Once you finally get home, you spend even MORE time putting all this stuff away.  Of course, realize you’ve forgotten the one most important item.  Probably cereal or bacon.  You curse yourself and the grocery store and it prevents you from ever going again.

Granted, I suffer greatly from anxiety, culture shock (having come from a pot farm in the middle of the woods where I lived with a cooler, not a refrigerator), and I’m in the anxious ridden state of early recovery; but I’m pretty sure all grocery stores should excavated, bulldozed, or wiped from the face of the Earth…at least one of those. Or all of them…Stupid grocery stores.

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