Like I’ve said before, I had the first half of the first step down cold. I was an alcoholic, everyone knew I was an alcoholic. So long as I kept it hidden, there was no need to make an announcement.
We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
Also, my life was not unmanageable. It was bleak, depressing, hopeless and miserable, but I managed. I thought being a maintenance alcoholic meant that I had some sort of control. I mean, hey, I hadn’t pissed away everything yet.
Well, that’s not maintenance, that’s luck.
I had a tried-and-true system of buying, drinking, and stashing; one practiced and crafted and honed over time. It allowed me to go through my days with minimal interaction. Large spans of time were dedicated to giving my disease treats.
What my life’s like now: Removing my mask daily is the trick. I must admit that I have another side; one that destroys and hates. One that the real me hates, but also kinda loves.
And the longer I leave it on, the harder it is to pull off.