I’ve always operated in a world of fits and starts; of beginnings and middles that were strong and promising, but always somehow seemed to trail off, or get tangled up, or become self-sabotaged, or remain unfinished, or once completed, not to my satisfaction. Flurries of activity followed by thinking about the results far beyond the realm of reality. And this reflection was usually five times longer than any actual work.
Step 2: came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Acting as a binary judge, operating on a good/bad, love/hate level and assigning only black/white values to the things in my life, is simply antiquated, alcoholic, hurtful thinking. Everything used to be fully engaged or completely isolated. Just being wasn’t enough: I needed to constantly validate my existence, which became exhausting in very short order, and social interactions became chores, burdens. Tests that I was bound to fail.
It was a world of extremes that only I was living in. No one else was that interested in always being negative, with occasional spurts of super-positive manic energy thrown in to keep things confusing. Misery may love company, but company hates misery, and my disease was forever putting me in that no-win situation where the only clear thing to do was run. I believed it best to all concerned if I just wasn’t there.
That’s my alcoholism, over in the corner. Not the life of the party nor center of attention: I drank to tolerate myself. And when you’re a self-loathing isolationist, maybe it’s the company you keep.
Today: In the bigger picture, life’s a toggle that switches only once. Right now, it’s on.