I’m probably going to bring y’all down, but so be it.
I’m bored. And lonely. And, well, kind of feeling like I always did before I drank. Which makes me huff and puff to myself, What’s the point of this sobriety thing if I feel the same as when I was drinking?
Like I said in a previous post, the improved mood is subtle. VERY subtle. I want to feel BETTER, awesome, amazing. It’s been almost 90 days (minus 2), and honestly, I don’t feel that much different. I feel sober. ALL THE TIME. 😦
Sure, I’m not hung over and overall, I feel a lot healthier and calmer. The problem I have is, I still think about drinking all day, every day. I still think, Can I drink today, what if I drank today, can I, huh, huh, huh? Please, just one glass? Even if I KNOW I’m not going to drink, have committed to not drinking, these obsessive and incessant thoughts are like the wash on the canvas of my brain. And, I feel restless — not as much, but still restless. Frustrated. Something’s missing. Something HUGE is missing, is how I feel all day, every day. Wine used to quench that fire, which was burning for nothing. Now the fire burns for nothing all day, every day.
It could be that I haven’t truly changed my life. At all. Before, I was going to work at a job I hated, a job that didn’t provide me with any personal satisfaction or sense of creative or professional accomplishment. It ate my soul. Now? I still do the same kind of work, albeit a little less aggravating and a little more fun (science editing instead of technical writing), just from home.
Maybe what I need is a new project, something that I can finally dig my teeth into (like, a book, or a fast-paced reporting job)? Sometimes I think I need a career change. A complete 180 from writing and editing. Something to do with my day that doesn’t seem like just a way to avoid drinking, or pass the time, or strive to improve myself. Pretty much every hobby I have revolves around self-improvement: running, yoga, playing guitar, reading, watching movies that expand my mind. ARG. I need something bigger and different from what I’ve known for 15 years, something that drives me, makes me actually WANT to get out of bed and go to sleep so I can get up and get out of bed to do it again tomorrow. I don’t have that anymore. And, I really have no idea what to do to get it back.
THIS has been a huge part of my descent into becoming a wino: I don’t have a sense of purpose that makes sense to ME, that fills me, so therefore, I have nothing. And, I drink to fill that hole. I panic in trying to find it. I drink to subdue that fear. Maybe I won’t find it? Maybe nothing ever will be as fulfilling — or exciting — as it used to be in my 20s and early 30s? Maybe this is just life?
I often have a feeling of been there, done that these days. Well, it’s been growing since about 33 or 34. And, I HAVE BEEN around and done a lot. I feel like I’ve seriously hit a plateau; there is nothing new under the sun. Ultimately, I’m not sure I have anything left to truly look forward to. That’s not to say that I don’t love life; of course, I do. Deep down, we all do because it’s all we know, life. Yet, the things I think I might really (of course, it’s always got to be “really”) look forward to — volunteering in Africa is one that pops into my head — scare me. Does it have to be such an all-or-nothing life, though? Stay here and rot, or scare myself to death? I need new goals, sure, but I also need to find new ways to enjoy life here and now. This can’t be how it’s going to be forever, otherwise I will drink again.
On top of it all, I flipped a homeless dude off today. It’s downright upsetting living here sometimes. I get so tired of walking around this town, shoulders clenched against the wind, gut protected from the homeless hot messes around EVERY CORNER. Upsetting is an understatement. Traumatizing is more like it! I’ve been called everything from bitch, to whore, slut, cunt, and you-should-be-raped…by complete strangers just walking down the street. Granted, they’re all addicts and/or mental cases, but still…it GETS TO YOU. Yup, it was my mistake to move downtown, but I had no other choice at the time. It’s really hard for me to feel empowered in my own sobriety when I am cowering, in a sense, protecting myself against the mental and emotional drain that is what seems an ENTIRE FUCKING CITY IN RECOVERY.
Yep, I really want to drink tonight.
Another day, another day sober. Meh. I hate to say it, but at least I’m not them, or in their shoes. I mean, most of the addicts I run into here — crack, coke, oxy, heroin, all of the above — are beyond help. Like, I used to think that everyone could be helped, but…these people are like the walking dead. So, I really hate to think this, but I do: I’m glad I’m turning my addiction around before I end up spending entire days, and not just nights, wandering around in the cold, talking to myself in an altered state of stupor.
Peace and love, y’all.