Monday, February 28, 2011
Get Thee to a Meeting
So, I probably should get my ass to a meeting.
Still, I haven’t gone. I’ll probably get a lecture from my sponsor about this. We also need to go to keep working our program. I speculated to Chelle that maybe I don’t feel such an overwhelming need to go and keep processing my disease and the steps because I blog about all of it. I put it out there. I also know that if I were to relapse, there are quite a few people who would be bummed out for me. It wouldn’t be the end of the world—I know folks are forgiving; people would no doubt understand and just support me in getting back on the wagon. Still, I hate disappointing people, and that is honestly a deterrent.
But the thing is--and here’s what I really wanted to write about—I sincerely have zero desire to drink. I don’t know what has caused such a colossal shift. When I think about drinking now, I just see it as a royal pain in the butt that isn’t even worth the energy it takes to drink. Alcohol has become like cigarettes for me when I quit smoking. On my 30th birthday, I quit cold turkey. It was tough at first and I was a basket case for a few months, but then even the smell of cigarette smoke became distasteful to me. I haven’t smoked for almost 19 years. I don’t miss the stinging eyes, the stench, the stained teeth and fingers, the chronic cough, the disapproving looks of my non-smoking friends.
Booze is like THAT. I don’t miss the hangovers, the mood swings, the misperceived slights and paranoia, the anger, the blackouts, the constant drama, the morning-after humiliation, the disapproving looks of my non-alcoholic friends.
Chelle leaves beer in the fridge now, and not once have I been tempted to touch it.
Life has continued to happen—but I’m not one to avoid my feelings anymore. I just feel them. They go away. I don’t like feeling the uncomfortable things: anger, jealousy, and the like, but I’ve felt them all and realized they won’t kill me. I know one day something colossal might happen and I might find myself in a mood to just drink it all away. But somehow that seems unlikely to me. I have reached a place where I just don’t think alcohol does anything good for me at all. All it does is make every last little thing worse.
I don’t WANT to feel buzzed. I want to keep my marbles and my senses.
Maybe it’s just that, wanting the sanity more than wanting the escape.
That could be worth sharing at a meeting. I'm resolved. I'll hit the noon meeting tomorrow. Because the point isn't to just get help for yourself. It's really to help out the others, and thereby help yourself.
UPDATE: Well, I didn't get a "lecture" from my sponsor, but she did caution me about not getting too smug. I hope I didn't sound smug; I certainly don't FEEL smug. I guess what I'm just trying to say is that it's a marvel to me to not even feel the slightest inclination to drink. Nothing short of a miracle, in fact. Perhaps I'll try to elaborate on that in a later post.
The other thing she said that make me stop to think was that the truth is, I DON'T know that a relapse wouldn't be a genuinely big, awful deal. I minimized the impact of one above. She said I can't know what would happen. One "little" relapse, I could drive, I could die. And of course that is true, too.