It’s amazing what passes for living when you’re an alcoholic. It’s even more amazing what passes for managing said life.

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

My Tuesday mornings rivaled most party goers Friday evenings. But I wasn’t going to a party. I was going to work. Must attain acceptable levels to function. With my senses properly dulled, I was then able to zombie my way into mid-afternoon.

The lunch regimen consisted of sitting, drinking, smoking, sitting, drinking, smoking. Emotions that would fall under the “happy” umbrella emerge for the first time at this point. I’m secure in the knowledge that my afternoon will be a blur and then the work day is over. It’s much easier to ride out 8 hours of work when you’ve mushed up time.

The evening commute. Whether I was driving 1 mile or 25, the journey always took the same time: 48 ounces.

Dinner time. I’ve already spent 3 hours of my day chemically escaping. And there was still evening excuses that needed to be deployed. Alcoholism managed. With extreme diligence.

Nothing felt bad and nothing felt good. Nothing felt anything. Apparently, that’s how I wanted it. I wasn’t waiting for a reason anymore. I was becoming very proactive. Definitely ahead of the curve.

My days didn’t stand a chance.

Today, I’m grateful. I may still mess up the day, but that’s on something else other than alcoholism. Something, surprisingly, which is also now workable.

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