Tag Archives: help

Lord Waldemort

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Day 235

I went to Walmart two days ago—it was awful, and unless there is a looting in the name of survival, I’m never going back.

There were several factors that contributed to my near death superstore experience:

 

a)   My wallet is on probation.

b)  I needed a bedside table to match my bedroom.  I had to obtain an inexpensive white table.  I had to go to Walmart…where white cheap tables flourish.

 

The parking lot was crazy enough, and once inside I realized it was suchlike a Vegas casino—no windows, no clocks, and no way out without spending money.  My eyes were immediately drawn to one dozen things I don’t need; Pajamas, cheap watches, Oreos, neato pencil erasers, four pairs of no-show socks for $5, an entire Dunkin Donuts facility, gallon-sized jugs of CheezIts…everything you need to kill yourself and keep yourself alive at the same time.

By the time I made it to where the cheap white tables lived, I realized that my cart was brimful with crapola.  As I contemplated whether or not I really needed ten gallons of Poland Spring water (I have a Britta filter at home), an announcement came on the PA.

“Attention adult shoppers, in TWO minutes there will be a free giveaway at the front of the store, next to the Dunkin’ Donuts.  We will be giving away FREE kitchen supplies, but it’s first-come first-serve.  Again, all adult shoppers, you have TWO minutes to get to the front of the store for this limited supply of quality kitchen goods.”

For the love of God, I thought, is this man trying to ensue a riot?!? Apparently, yes, yes he was.  Walmarter’s started running out from the woodworks in a mad rush for utensils they wouldn’t need to cook their 50 flats of SpaghettiO’s.   Motorized scooters buzzed past me as fast as their speed settings would permit, and the PA came on again.

“Attention adult shoppers, you have ONE minute to get to the front of the store for this free giveaway!  You don’t want to miss these top-quality kitchen gadgets!”

I wanted to reach into the invisible speakers and strangle the man. The herd increased momentum, and then passed leaving tumble weeds of wrappers behind.

After heaving the first white-furniture-structure I saw into my vessel, I hurriedly wheeled my big blue cart toward checkout.

“Your total comes to $171.52.”  The cashier said.

I was dumbfounded at the junk I had accumulated during my Walmart trance, but had no time to play the “can I put this back,” game.  After swiping my poor, dwindling debit card, I fled, and threw the grocery bags into the back of my truck, not even recognizing most of the rubbish.

What does this have to do with sobriety?  Nothing.  But I would have loved a drink after to calm down.

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Holy Emotional Upheaval

Day 228

Step 4 and 5 kicked my ass.  I’m glad to be just another bozo on the bus, but this bozo was running out of meetings practically weeping. The emotional upheaval of step 4 aka Pandora’s Box of Pain, aka grievous fortification was an anguish I didn’t even know existed.

My insides wanted to collapse; something no one should have to witness–so I ran.   I ran outside, took a left, right into a graveyard.

Between my tears and peoples’ graves and the metaphorical rain cloud above my head I decided it was all a little too intense.  Knowing what would help most was the experience, strength, and hope of another alcoholic; I headed back up the stairs just as a friend was coming down.  She told me I was in a safe place and I knew she was right.

Step 5 was almost as amazing as people said it would be. It took almost 4 hours to go through the resentments I had against myself.  At the end my sponsor put her hand on my shoulder and said, “You never have to be that person again.”

Fast-forward a couple hours.  I’m standing in the kitchen eating a salad, nighttime, late dinner as usual.  All of a sudden my throat started closing, breathing was shallow and breaths were broken.  I looked down at my salad…almonds!!! I’ve developed allergies as an adult before and despite the fact that I’ve never been allergic to nuts, I figured that the allergy gods were rearing their ugly allergy heads.

To avoid an untimely death I went to the walk-in ER and told them I was having a fatal allergic reaction.  The doctor saw me almost immediately.

“This is not an allergic reaction,” he said calmly.

“Yes it is.”  I said shakily and dumbfounded, you stewpid doctor. 

“Have you gone through anything emotional today?”

I paused.  Shut the fuck up.

“Yeah, Step 5.” I answered

“What’s step 5?” He asked, I was almost offended that he didn’t know.  This is all about me, dammit.

So I told him.

“Jesus, yeah, that’ll do it.  You’re having a panic attack.”

Classic, the only panic attack I’ve ever had was after the 5th step.  My resentments almost took me out!  Literally! The next day at a meeting I demanded $537 out of the basket for my ER visit due to step work.  I was only half serious.

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