There’s a reason I’m told to take everything a day at a time. Because, left to my own pessimistic, futuristic notions, everything is doomed. Nothing is going to work out; everything I wish to go one way will most certainly go the other. Any and everything I see down the road is flipped over and on fire.

Step 4: made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

The thing is, I hate to wait. I want things now, and whenever a day isn’t going my way, I crave instant resolution. And that used to mean drinking.

Now my solution involves getting on my knees and praying, hitting a meeting, reading literature, calling my sponsor and/or others in the program. Not nearly as much fun as drinking, plus a lot more effort. But if I play it forward even five hours, the result of my choice will either bite me in the ass, or reveal themselves to be what they normally are: no big deal.

It’s really the distaste I have for normality. My disease wants everything to always be up in the air, with no hope of me ever catching them when they fall. And it reminds me that the only time I ever felt right was when I was intoxicated. And I hate that; truly hate that. Which, in turn makes me hate myself. Which makes for a pessimistic view of my days, which I’m supposed to be taking one at a time.

Mental merry-go-round, indeed!

For me to work this program correctly I need a strong, doable routine that I stick to. Preemptive praying. Scheduled time-outs from the normals to reset my mind. Tenth step balance sheet. Talking with someone who knows. These are all things that can lower my level of insanity.

Constantly chasing after my diseased thinking is exhausting. That’s why getting ahead of the bad thoughts is so important. If I’m always waiting for myself to become all out of sorts before reaching out, then it seems like the program is failing me. Or, I’m one of those special drunks that is sentenced to a life of unshakable misery. Neither of which is true.

So, for today: Understand that I can’t stop the crazy thoughts any more than I could stop my drinking. Thankfully, I’ve got a toolbox full of useful stuff. I just need to take it with me. Everywhere I go.

2 thoughts on “stop the world.

  1. “….. everything I see down the road is flipped over and on fire.”

    Maybe this is why I love post-apocolyptic films – they give me a visual of my perceived view of the future 🙂

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