There were many Christmas Eves when by this time (1o:45 AM) I would have already been on my way to being drunk. If we were visiting relatives, I’d have little wine bottles hidden in my bag, or I’d sneak into the kitchen and find whatever liquor was available and have three or four shots. I’d
Firstly, I’m still here. I’m much more active on my creative writing blog lately, but I thought it was time to make an entry on this on. I suspect as I go further into recovery, the less and less I’ll write about alcohol and cravings (which still happen, but they go away pretty darn quickly…whew).
I’m a bit of a recluse. But every now and then, I venture into the world. Most recently, I had to go down to the public mental health clinic to follow up on a psychiatric referral my doctor made. It seems he’s no longer willing to dole out my Depakote. So I waited in line
Yesterday, a friend who’s also in AA stopped me and asked how things were going. After we dispensed with things like work and family, he steered the conversation toward recovery. We talked about home groups and his sponsees, one of whom I went to rehab with. Then my friend (I’ll call him Nathan) asked about
Part of me (though a much smaller and less vocal) still rebels at the idea that I no longer drink or embrace the so-called “wild life.” The wild life for me occurred for me in my twenties, and even by most standards, it was tame. The problems was, as for many of us, my drinking
Last night was my home group’s birthday celebration, and I’d planned on going for the last month. I arranged it all with my wife so my kids could do their things and could manage the rest of the evening. It’s hard to juggle schedule schedules when four people are involved (and two of them are