Fourteen days. Or is it negative three hundred sixty-five days? I don't know. I don't think I've been sober this long in my adult life, but I'm still here. And here we are. My cunt siblings are still cunts. At this moment in time I hate them, that is my truth and that is what, after so much self-doubt, self-recriminations, self-shaming, and guilt for feeling it, I am truly feeling. Not the self-serving, evil kind of hate - it's the hate that comes from trusting them so many times, the unconditional trust and love I have felt from my heart, that just kept being beaten down. My brother took a big fucking dump on that trust 3 and a half months ago, and my sister Jill has been doing it all my life. So fuck them. Fuck them all at this point. I don't really think -- can't really think -- that Lisa or Mary Beth have my back, either. They've done they're share of spurning me, only it was never as blatant as Steven or Jill. Anyway, this is my truth as I see it now. Jeff has helped show me that because he's seen it with much clearer eyes.
Which brings me to the subject at hand. I'm an alcoholic now. Now. Funny, right? As if I weren't always an alcoholic? All those blackouts, thinking they were a normal part of getting fucked up. Thinking all those times that next time I would watch my drinking more, and not fuck up. That I wouldn't get to a point where I'd forget all the crazy shit I do while wasted. Funny how all of that past behavior formed such a familiar pattern.
I'm sitting alone with my thoughts after my 11th AA meeting (11 meetings 14 days, better catch up, buddy-boy no it's not important yes it is NINETY MEETINGS NINETY DAYS but relapse but nothing there is no such thing as relapsing in sobriety god i'm so afraid god i need a sponsor god i need a friend but i have friends all around me who love me but why do i feel so lonely so isolated so fucking socially awkward which was the thing that made drink in the first place and drink and drink and drink and drink x 6 more vodka fucking sodas until i passed out in the apartment hallway forgot my keys forgot my sport jacket clutching my phone and wallet). East Village, NYC, best place in the world, center of the universe.
Every meeting is a gift, I know, and it's helping me to stay sober if only so I don't stew in my thoughts if only so that I can hear others' stories, stories that are my story, my truth. Yet I still I'm the same socially awkward Jimmy, the same scared kid I always was, always thinking people are staring at me judging me laughing at me. God I need to see my therapist like fucking yesterday. Two sessions in a row I had to skip because of vacation/time off, both for me and for Dr. B. That's 3 weeks in a row. Last time I saw him was the before time, when everything was different. Now I'm a recovering alcoholic and scared of what comes next. Why didn't I see this coming years ago? Why did I let it go as far as it did, hurting Jeff so much along the way? Why couldn't I see the signs when it was happening? Thirteen years, Jesus Christ.
Anyway, Jeff's home now, just had a really good talk about tangents (not the math kind!) and everything's kinda ok.
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