|
It's been almost four years since my last drink. I've got good distance now. The first year was hard, the second was hard too, but then things got better.
When it snows I want red wine.
In the summer as the sun goes down and the earth begins to cool off--I want a good gin and tonic.
Everyday after work the boys pull out their Sammies, they each only have one. And I ain't going to lie to you: these beers start looking like cotten candy.
I miss a good drink. The stuff is everywhere, everywhere I look there it is. But I don't miss my drinking days. The weight loss, the mind getting really really confused, where all i could do was what I did best, have another one. Oh that monkey I fed him good, made him happy. But in recovery we never say the monkey is dead, the day I say yeap I did it, is the day I've got to put a call into a friend and tell him what's up. I make many such calls. Because we tend to forget how bad it was, and with more time going by the foggier things can get. There is a saying: the further you get away from your last drink, the closer you get to the next one. Don't forget: I tell myself this when times get tough. I don't go out much anymore, don't like parties, had a bad time at my brothers wedding, where i was best man, and the first one to leave the party; my old drink friends, most i never see anymore, and the ones that i do can't understand what I've done.
The power of the mind to justify something is tremendous.
Anyway I like to talk about abuse, addiction. The mighty nicotine, which I haven't yet got a good handle on--many failed attempts--is another topic I enjoy. The monkey is off my back and it feels real good; but there are times i can feel him checking me out around the corner of the window sill.
Thanks for all the good things said on this post, and pardon my ramble: I'm new to this web chatting, and, I must say enjoy it.
|