A Case of the Fuck-its

My counselor said that I seemed a little off, during our one-on-one yesterday, and I had to be honest and tell her that I was really feeling over it.  Going a couple of weeks without a drink isn’t a huge deal in my normal life, I explained, I do it all the time.  But going a couple of weeks where I’m constantly thinking and writing and talking about alcohol day in and day out without having a single drink has felt a bit much.  And I’ll be honest with you guys and say that I’ve really wanted to say fuck it, and quit, more than once.  The thing is, though, I don’t know if I’d be saying fuck it to sobriety as well, if I did that.  Ten hours a week on groups and counseling is a lot more than it sounds like, though.

I “joked” to my wife yesterday that I may have to drop out since I’m so nervous about doing my life story and reading it aloud to everyone in group.

“Well,” she said.  “No one ever said rehab was supposed to be easy.”

Man, did that piss me off.  Mostly because I couldn’t really think of a good retort.  Alcohol, I know, is the easy way out of a lot of things.  At least for me, it is.  It’s the easy way of establishing a personality, the easy way of dealing with life, the easy way of building relationships.  But all of that cheating comes due, eventually.  I know this.  I also know that I can’t quit on my own, because I’ve tried.

I feel like it would be so much easier if I were dropping weight, or feeling energized, or suddenly finding myself hyper-focused and excelling at work.  But I didn’t get to the place where I’m at overnight, and I know that those things will take time to manifest back into my life.  Sometimes I just wish that I could have a drink, to pass the time while I wait.

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