Progress Report
Well, I hit the one month mark in sobriety last week. How am I doing? Good question, you're very bright.
When I quit drinking I, perhaps naively, thought that there would be some sort of massive emotional payoff. That didn't happen. Yes, there are benefits to being sober all the time, which I have mentioned before. I feel less shitty in the mornings. I have more money. I can engage people in conversation and, more importantly, be understood. I think I'm even less intensely depressed. But, but, but, but, but, but.
Man, my moods don't swing, anymore. They don't swing. They just fucking sit there. This last month? Has probably been the most boring month of my life. Yes, I'm coherent. Yes, I can maintain my balance. But so fucking what? I've got nothing to say and nowhere to go. Back in the day booze was like fuel, man. I could go for days, riding one buzz after another. Now? My nights just peter out. My social outings have become anemic, at best. A man can only drink so much coffee. My life has become safe. Safe, when once it was vital. Yes, goddammit, yes, I was a wreck. Half the time I didn't give half a shit whether lived or died. But the other half? I loved this life, and everything in it. Now it's just flat. It's ehh. Give or take. Comme ci, comme ca.
Now, I know. I know that I need help. If anything, this experience has taught me that I am not a functional person. To live my life I require some sort of... narcotic? I don't know. What's the best word for anti-depressants? These are my choices. Booze, or pills. Now that's kind of a bum rap, but I'm not going to point any fingers. That's just how it is. I am a fucked up, damaged person (I know, I know, join the club). So I can either dope myself into some sort of rationality, and piss and moan to a therapist ( as opposed to the internet), or I can embrace my fucked-upedness and take this motherfucker out of the station! Let's cut the brakes, like in the old days. Therapy! It is too puny a word, too puny an option. Who is this man, this woman, who dares dictate to me how I should or should not feel!?!? I choose chaos over rationality! I should feel normal? What the fuck is normal? You mean like other people? Fuck that! Are you really going to sit there and tell me that other people are happy? I am sick of this shit. I am sick of sitting in fucking coffeehouses envying how everyone else seems so normal, so collected. I am a dynamic human fucking being and I have an addiction and indulging that addiction makes me feel alive. It makes me care about this whole fucking thing in a way that I just don't, right now. Everyone keeps telling me to wait, just wait. I will feel better, the craving will go away, things will come around. Soon, wait, almost, nearly, just one more, easy, great, so great, so proud, hang on, hang on, hang on. I don't feel like a man, I feel like some mewling rodent trying to rationalize my wretchedness. Fuck this. A thousand times fuck this. I am going to buy some beer. I would buy hard booze but they'd be closed by now. I don't even want the beer. Just the fucking oblivion. Even as I write this there is a twisting, writhing presence in my gut which I presume is my conscience. You can't drink, you asshole, what'd you tell your friends? What'd you tell yourself? What about your word? It used to be that the thought of booze in my future put me at peace. Now it's just more anxiety. I'm squirming in my seat, grappling with this. Can't drink, can't stay sober. Let's say, dear conscience, I don't drink. What's my reward? Another long night? Let's face facts, I am fucked up drunk, I am fucked up sober. At least when I'm drunk I enjoy it more. I've tried being sober and I ain't happy.
This fucking Waiterrant thing. You look at his site and it's comment after comment of people who get it, who love it, who eat it up. What am I missing? Why am I seeing it differently. Why does that site rub me the wrong way, when it rubs so many people right. I just tick differently is all. The rules don't apply; I want a drink. Conductor? Tell the engineer to cut the brakes. There will be no stopping tonight...
When I quit drinking I, perhaps naively, thought that there would be some sort of massive emotional payoff. That didn't happen. Yes, there are benefits to being sober all the time, which I have mentioned before. I feel less shitty in the mornings. I have more money. I can engage people in conversation and, more importantly, be understood. I think I'm even less intensely depressed. But, but, but, but, but, but.
Man, my moods don't swing, anymore. They don't swing. They just fucking sit there. This last month? Has probably been the most boring month of my life. Yes, I'm coherent. Yes, I can maintain my balance. But so fucking what? I've got nothing to say and nowhere to go. Back in the day booze was like fuel, man. I could go for days, riding one buzz after another. Now? My nights just peter out. My social outings have become anemic, at best. A man can only drink so much coffee. My life has become safe. Safe, when once it was vital. Yes, goddammit, yes, I was a wreck. Half the time I didn't give half a shit whether lived or died. But the other half? I loved this life, and everything in it. Now it's just flat. It's ehh. Give or take. Comme ci, comme ca.
Now, I know. I know that I need help. If anything, this experience has taught me that I am not a functional person. To live my life I require some sort of... narcotic? I don't know. What's the best word for anti-depressants? These are my choices. Booze, or pills. Now that's kind of a bum rap, but I'm not going to point any fingers. That's just how it is. I am a fucked up, damaged person (I know, I know, join the club). So I can either dope myself into some sort of rationality, and piss and moan to a therapist ( as opposed to the internet), or I can embrace my fucked-upedness and take this motherfucker out of the station! Let's cut the brakes, like in the old days. Therapy! It is too puny a word, too puny an option. Who is this man, this woman, who dares dictate to me how I should or should not feel!?!? I choose chaos over rationality! I should feel normal? What the fuck is normal? You mean like other people? Fuck that! Are you really going to sit there and tell me that other people are happy? I am sick of this shit. I am sick of sitting in fucking coffeehouses envying how everyone else seems so normal, so collected. I am a dynamic human fucking being and I have an addiction and indulging that addiction makes me feel alive. It makes me care about this whole fucking thing in a way that I just don't, right now. Everyone keeps telling me to wait, just wait. I will feel better, the craving will go away, things will come around. Soon, wait, almost, nearly, just one more, easy, great, so great, so proud, hang on, hang on, hang on. I don't feel like a man, I feel like some mewling rodent trying to rationalize my wretchedness. Fuck this. A thousand times fuck this. I am going to buy some beer. I would buy hard booze but they'd be closed by now. I don't even want the beer. Just the fucking oblivion. Even as I write this there is a twisting, writhing presence in my gut which I presume is my conscience. You can't drink, you asshole, what'd you tell your friends? What'd you tell yourself? What about your word? It used to be that the thought of booze in my future put me at peace. Now it's just more anxiety. I'm squirming in my seat, grappling with this. Can't drink, can't stay sober. Let's say, dear conscience, I don't drink. What's my reward? Another long night? Let's face facts, I am fucked up drunk, I am fucked up sober. At least when I'm drunk I enjoy it more. I've tried being sober and I ain't happy.
This fucking Waiterrant thing. You look at his site and it's comment after comment of people who get it, who love it, who eat it up. What am I missing? Why am I seeing it differently. Why does that site rub me the wrong way, when it rubs so many people right. I just tick differently is all. The rules don't apply; I want a drink. Conductor? Tell the engineer to cut the brakes. There will be no stopping tonight...
posted by Dash Bradley at 9:36 PM
3 Comments:
Wheeeeee!!
Shit, we all go through are little things, some work, some don't. If it isn't you and you know it for a fact, than there would be no point in trying to force it. If you wnat to drink, dirnk! Moderation is the key.
As your freinds, we don't care. We care about you, and we care if you just plain drink to much, but as far as drinking is concerned, it's a free country and your a free man.
Seriously, who's gonna look down on you? Me? Shouresh? Jay? Marco? I really don't think so.
To tell you the truth, we couldn't figure out which one of us had a right to tell you in the first place that you needed to slow down.
"Hey, you know what you need to do, man? *hic* you need too, uhhh, ummm *hic* you need to (stumble backwards into person to the rear, barks slurred apology). Sorry man, what was I saying? Oh Yeah, you need to.... Hey isn't that what's her face (walks away).
Seriously. Beside your an artiste, your supposed to be eccentric and unique.Once agian, moderation is the key.
Stop being so down, and just cut the back brakes =).
My dear Canadian friend,
Do you use the phrase "balls to the walls" up there? 'Cause I really think you should go "balls to the walls" (all out). You need to push the envelope now, before you have kids, a house, a wife -- responsibilities. The time is now.
There is also nothing wrong with drinking. An occasional crazy binge is okay, too. But why do you NEED it? Your crazy self should feel free to come out without the aid of alcohol. To me, that is the problem. Not the alcohol. The NEED. And you know this.
I guess I rebel against anything that restricts my freedom. I never started smoking because I never wanted to NEED to do something. Authority chokes me. And to me, an addiction is a kind of authority. So my thought is: start drinking again, sure. AFTER you have been able to go crazy SOBER. Do you want me to tell you how weird I am? I can tell you about my Star Wars addiction and how in high school I dreamt of being taken away in a starship by the love child of Han Solo and Princess Leia. That's just a start.
Chuck, you should run more interventions...
Ubermilf, some good points, here. I agree on the authority thing, but to me sobriety is far more of a chocking obligation than drinking. Drinking, to me, is the freedom to fuck up.
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