Bitter Truth

I would swear it’s that crooked hand of time bending my reality that leads me back.  My warped memory downplaying the urgency.  It was just a handful of mistakes. Not very many really.  It’s a mere lack of mindfulness on my part.  Of course, I can fix it.  If only you would do your part and not cause me extra stress.  You know I can’t handle stress. Actually, I think it’s the loneliness.  My phone doesn’t ring.  No one seems to care. I’ve been forgotten. Always misunderstood. But, the anxiety.  THE anxiety is really the culprit. I should really talk to my doctor about it.

Drinking? No, I don’t think that’s the true problem here.  I recognize it’s not good for me. Bordering on harmful, maybe. Again. An easy fix. If only…..
Down the road of insanity I trot. These conversations playing in my mind.  The valid reasons someone like me would drink on the tip of my tongue.  The If Onlys on blast every second of everyday.  Probably, also, looking for more reasons unconsciously.  Anything to explain away what I obviously cannot control.
Let me glamorize for just a second.  The ice clinking in the glass.  Vodka splashing.  Cranberry juice splicing to make a beautiful color that lights up my mood.  The reassurance my smile will be in place. The dark thoughts will disappear.  I lean over to whisper in your ear and laughter is shared. Or, the dance floor welcomes my left foot.  Bravery fills my veins and I send that text I couldn’t before.  I feel beautiful. Comfortable in my very skin. Accepted.  Free.
When those 15 blissful minutes are up, I am lost again.  In pain again. Alone again. I know the insanity of drink has won again.  Yet, I yearn for those 15 minutes. A Lot.  The obsession is greater than me.  I have allowed the bottle to be bigger than me.  Poor, poor tiny me.
Only another alcoholic can truly understand this predicament. The desire not to drink is there. It is here. I have that desire.  Desire:strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen. In my case, wishing is not enough. Willpower is not enough.  I must surrender. I must believe in my bones that I, and especially not alone, can fix this.  It’s more than a loose screw.  It’s a big ol breakdown of epic proportions.
But, is it really?? My mind likes to ask.  Are you sure?  If only….
The incessant loop is exhausting. Which is why I need to be vigilant.  Which is why seeking out help is paramount.  Which is why I’m in Alcoholics Anonymous. Which is why I have a sponsor. Which is why I really really want to work on the concept of a higher power.  Which is why I need to open my mouth.  Extend my hand.  Listen for the message.  Let the tears flow.
All of this is why I, now gratefully, say I’m a newcomer.  Not yet holding my head high. But showing up as best I can.  My name is Rhonda and I AM an alcoholic.
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