more than this.

The world I created in my mind, both sober and drunk, was pretty far from center when compared with reality.  Actually, it was skewed before I ever drank; the alcohol only served to dampen down my raging against the inequity of my existence.  And all the thoughts and emotions funneled directly into one word: UNFAIR.

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.

Thanks to the program, I now understand that life isn’t fair, was never intended to be fair, and all the grousing on my end isn’t going to change anything.  Go ahead and write that letter.  Feel free to bitch to a neighbor.  Where does that get me?  Sharing my irritations accomplishes what, exactly?  I put someone or something down, let someone else know about it, and then I feel better?  So I’m making myself happy by letting others know of my unhappiness?  And there’s nothing better than playing the martyr: just an FYI, just so you know, Bob in Accounting is really bad at his job, but I’ll suck it up and clean up his messes, no problem, just wanted to make you aware of my sacrifice.

This is something I’ve been thinking about lately: what’s really appropriate to complain about?  Do I need to vent as often as I do?  Am I cranking up the pressure until I explode for no other reason than for the rush that accompanies it?  Most times, people are simply being people and I’m the one out of whack; the one looking for any reason whatsoever to start turning the dial.  I’m the one who’s on the hunt for outside influences to rationalize my internal mind twists.

And I get it: the solution isn’t to bottle everything up, nor is it to tamp everything down.  There are many, many things that need to be talked about, discussed, and shared.  Only bury the stuff that, given the benefit of time, disappears.