It’s ridiculous how quickly I can forget. This disease had me running in circles, hiding in the shadows, hiding in plain site, hiding and stashing and refueling and tossing and stowing and buying and trashing. Up in the morning, thinking about when and how soon and when’s recycling day and are there empties in the trunk?
Step One: we admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
I forget my daily stops at my various daily spots. The various cashiers that were in on the joke with me. Some almost became family, I saw them so often; but hey, like I needed more disappointed people in my life? I’m sure I was nothing special, just one among the many of sad sacks that drifted in and out of doors with painted heights on their frames, sadder than some, not as sad as others.
I forget the isolation that filled up the hours between those stops. Time spent drinking and killing time just because. That’s as far as I’d develop that thought before squelching it, that question of why? Surely no one requires this much prep work throughout the day. My ratios were completely inverted from the “normals” around me, but so be it – I was a special case, right?
I was absolutely in control, but isn’t that what the parasite tells its host? A self-imposed Invasion of the Body Snatchers as it were, and while I was screaming on the inside, there was absolutely no way I was going to show it. I was successfully managing my own imprisonment.
Today, I need to be ever-vigilant at the earliest signs that the bug in my brain isn’t dead. Top of that list: I start forgetting to be grateful. Next, I begin to forget to be humble. Finally, I stop remembering how good I’ve got it, when I let it go.
I can never forget that.