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It’s said that you can’t truly succeed at sobriety until you hit bottom. Then, when there’s nowhere else to turn, can you admit complete and total defeat.

Step One:
We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.

The list of my losses is as follows: friends, loved ones, jobs, cars, phones, sunglasses, dignity, respect, control, sanity, will to live. My disease was systematically edging out everything. Alcohol had a plan, and I knew what it was. We were to move in together. Get a one-bedroom apartment above a restaurant where we could really get serious about our commitment.

But I wasn’t in love anymore. Far from it. The fun had evaporated nearly a decade earlier, leaving only the habit. I had become one of those cigar-smoking boys that transformed into a donkey in “Pinocchio”. Which left me embarrassed, resentful, jealous, and full of self-pitied inertia.

Anyway, here’s the rub, as I see it: by the time I recognized I was sick and tired, I was unable to wake myself up.

2 thoughts on “what do you think I look like? a jackass?

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