For those of you that just read “back away slowly”, let it be said that the second half of that blog was written moments after my football team pissed their season away.
Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.
I don’t play for them. They don’t know me. But yet it was the perfect opportunity for me to parlay a crappy football game into the belief that my marriage, friendships and job should all be torn asunder. Oh, and that I’d unfriend every fan of the other team that gloats on Facebook immediately. And stop watching the NFL altogether. It’s all rigged anyway.
See, I’m an alcoholic that goes to extremes in every situation. It’s all or nothing with me, and one bad day at work means I need to start looking for another job, which bleeds into a bad night at home. An argument with my wife means divorce is imminent; that we’ll never again achieve the level of love and understanding that just comes naturally for everyone else. The ability to compartmentalize doesn’t exist in my head, thereby leaving me vulnerable for insane thoughts and reactions to things that aren’t even to blame. Because it’s silly to be super-wound about the outcome of a game I’m not even playing. Rather than admitting that, I go looking for easier targets to attack. Ones closer to home. Ones I can blindside.
It took me an hour to figure that out. That once again I had gone way, way down the wrong path; the one that’s dark and depressing. Because it’s the feeling of angry hopelessness that my disease craves.
The good news: I’m able to start over again now, as opposed to pouting until bedtime, then hate-sleeping until I wake, just so I can start the process fresh in the morning. I don’t need to do that. What I need to do is recognize and diffuse. And, of course, apologize where appropriate and let go and let God.
Stop being on the lookout for reasons to go off. They tend to find me without my help. And when they do find me, I’m in a much better place to deal with them, because I can see that they weren’t of my making.
For today: Just wait ‘til next year.