August 18, 2013
I increased my exercise to 250 sit ups, 150 push ups, then running 5 miles, then doing 250 more sit ups, and 150 more push ups. I started that yesterday. After I got back from running, when I was doing my last set of push ups, Paula said she couldn’t stand watching me do them without her wanting to fuck me. She used other words though. It seems that no matter what I do, it turns Paula on. I guess that’s a good thing, I’m just not used to women being vocal about that kind of thing. With women, you figure if they fuck you, that you must have turned them on somehow, there’s your proof. Otherwise it’s all guessing. Because if they flirt with you, it sometimes has nothing to do with you whatsoever, it’s just that they like the attention you’re giving them and they want more. This is not a precursor to sex, my brothers, don’t be mislead.
Last night I decided to cook dinner because it’s been a long time since I’ve cooked. I made lasagna. I make the best fucking lasagna and my sauce kicks ass. That’s how I’d describe it on the menu if I had my own restaurant. I listened to Dean Martin and sang in Italian while I prepared dinner. The only thing that sucked was that it was the first time I’ve cooked like that without drinking chianti in the process. Chianti and cooking Italian just goes hand in hand, so it was frustrating. I asked Paula if we could get some, it would just be that one time. It wouldn’t be a relapse, just kind of a treat. She was like, “sobriety and being in recovery doesn’t work like that.” Then I thought, well wait, what if I’m not even an alcoholic, I can’t be, this doesn’t even make any sense. Limiting my binges and dangerous indulgences and consumption of drugs make sense. But restricting myself from wine during dinner prep and a good Italian meal seems so unrealistic and unfair. wtf. If I had been alone, I’d have bought some just to make the evening complete, but Paula wouldn’t let me. She had to convince me that I can’t just drink like a normal person, even if I think it’s a normal person occasion. I guess that’s true. If I would’ve started drinking wine, then I wouldn’t have stopped. I just would’ve have kept drinking and drinking and drinking until I was unconscious. That’s where the problem comes from, the fact that I can’t stop. Because once you reach that perfect level of shitfacedness, the level when you’re obliterated but still somehow functional and presumably aware, the goal is to stay at that level. It’s so perfect. So you drink and drink to stay there, and it works for a little while but then you surpass it, and just start getting drunker and drunker. For me, I keep going until I’m unconscious, literally passed out somewhere. In that state, I’ve been robbed, used as a canvas for drunken art, had indecent photos of me taken and posted on FB, instagram, or sent through texts, and I even have been molested. But when girls molest you, for them it’s just a game to see how hard you can get when you’re unconscious. They think it’s funny, not sexual. Sorry girls, it’s very sexual, and also violating.
So anyway, no chianti last night. But it prompted me to figure out what the 12 steps are. I had a book but I don’t know where it went, and I honestly didn’t pay any attention to that shit while I was in detox. I suppose I should go to a meeting now and then but I don’t know. I guess I just don’t care to know who the other people in this area are that struggle with addiction. I don’t want to know that much about people I know, or identify that much with strangers. Or, I don’t even know if I’d identify with them. What if I go and find that I’m not so bad and it makes me start up again? What if talking about it keeps my mind focused on it so much it’s all I can think about and so I have to get drunk or high?
The first step is,
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
Ok, well, I think I was there, but I don’t know if I’m there anymore. This all came from last night. I think I could have had one bout of drinking, then get on with my life. And it’s just a weekend, no big deal. I know I’m just rationalizing but the further I get from the way I was living prior to detox, the less like me that all seems. It’s more like a dream and not real, or so much in the past, it seems impossible it could ever be that way again. I feel like I could have more control now. I went to Dave’s last weekend and fucked up bad, but I haven’t relapsed again since then. Maybe I could just have one night every weekend when I just get messed up. But I know these thoughts are kind of straying me in the wrong direction. I just have to believe that this step is true, trust it is true. But I guess I’m not in the place to admit it yet, I have to work on recognizing the validity of it and I’m kind of stuck on how to do that at this point. Because once your life becomes manageable, it’s hard to imagine that it will ever be unmanageable again, so denial steps in.
And I’m wondering now what my long term goal is….hmmmm
Long term goal…I don’t see that far into my future. I guess I just want to be healthy and I want to be a respectable man with a respectable job and a respectable life. I want a wife and kids some day. Presently however, the only thing I can think about is wishing I could just drink socially sometimes, or have a glass of wine with dinner, or a beer when I sit by the fire. I just wish I could drink like everyone else.
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