Sat in a first-time meeting last night. Talk about being reminded from whence I came.
The raw, swollen face looking down, looking up. Fidget feet. Crimson neck. Random waves of total realization of what’s actually happening. The flush of crazy that hits. Wild animal eyes.
It’s a very frightened disease manifesting itself in survival mode. Checking the room for exits.
So much for nostalgia. Not that I have many memories of my first day. It’s a confusing blur by necessity, like the DMV.
I need to be hit on that level of real more often. I start desensitizing my experiences the second they pass. The bad ones, that is. The good ones get replayed and embellished. It’s a natural defense mechanism; selective forgetting. I was using it to allow the nightmare parade to continue.
To remember how bad it really was.
To close my eyes and see all the worried faces.
The scared faces, the tired faces.
The angry faces.
My alcoholism wants me to run and hide. My natural instinct is to run and hide.
What needs to happen? I need to take a walk outside. And call my sponsor.