When I don’t do what I say I’m going to do, the day gets off to a rocky start. There was no hitting the ground with my knees this morning. There was no silent time for prayer and meditation. There was no centering. There was, however, an irritated, depressed, highly wound alcoholic attempting to start his day.

Step 11: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. 

So, of course, the first thing that occurs this morning is the questioning of my serenity by my spouse. She’s asking out of loving concern: gentle and non-judgemental. I haven’t got any serenity, so I counter-attack with verbally defensive jabs and cuts. It must be the fault of the first person I see today that shows concern for my well-being: let’s dump all my vitriol on them.

Which is the worst part, because I’m not even sure what I’m upset about. Monday? Work? Meetings? Marriage? Child? Dog? Replacing my burnt-out headlight? My inability to stop biting my fingernails? Who knows, but it all balls up into a giant glob of uncertainty and dread. I’m pretty sure I’m upset that I’m alive, and have to go through another day among the normals: those smiling, happy, check-out-the-day-the-Lord-has-made normals.

During my silent, hour-long commute this morning I ask myself: Why can’t I get a time-out? Not five minutes; more like five weeks. I just wish I was off the grid. Give me a chance to get caught up and come back sane and ready to rejoin society. I can’t get better at something I’m right in the middle of. Hopeless. Helpless. Pointless.

See, I’ve thunk myself into a corner. I convert every possible out into a dead-end. My alcoholism is pushing the “might as well” angle today – the “I Give Up” drunk.

How’s all that for wrongheaded? It’s hopeless, helpless and pointless because I’m attempting to take back control, and it’s not working. That’s how I spent my morning, 5:15 – 8:00 A.M.

Now I’m at work, alone in my office, and once finished with this blog, I’m going to sit in my corner chair, close my eyes, and pray and meditate. Three hours of bad doesn’t need to be extrapolated out until bedtime. It’s possible to start over with the day. Reboot. And if by 9:00 I’m back in my funk, stop and do it again. Nowhere does it say that once a day is enough.

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