Thursday, February 10, 2011

Pretty girls make graves

There is something to be said about finding comfort in oneself.

We are regularly stripped of our outward belongings, whether that means family or personal possessions. Regardless of what we lose, the tools we have to seek happiness are inside of us. It is up to us to use this.

Alright, enough of all the sappy bullshit.

I can only force myself to get like that for so long till my fingers start withering and lose interest. Granted, I do believe what I said, I don't find it necessary to keep harping on it. I got what got and I take it day by day. Nothing in this world is going to change the way things go, all I can do is control myself.

I've been on this weird 90s house music tip right now. I just want to fucking dance.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Dharma Bum

Tonight was the first night I got out to a meeting.

For the past few days I have been doubting myself and my reasoning for moving here, but tonight I felt a huge relief. In the company of addicts I felt welcome and a connection to the outside world. My problems felt insignificant compared to those around me. I need my ego battered from time to time to keep me grounded and I sometimes forget about the progress I have made in lieu of the mental battles I am facing now.

Today was a good day.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Lonesome Traveler

We all pay the price inevitably ... with interest.

I can't begin to describe the internal battles that went through my head today. I went from complete blackness, racing anxiety concerning my future and if I would be able to make my amends to the people I have hurt.

Without being over dramatic, I did my best to relinquish control to something else. What this something else was, I don't know. I have been trying to convince myself that I need to give up my desire to fill the voids that people and things once left.

I don't know if I made any head way, but I know I will be able to sleep tonight. One day at a time.

Oh yeah, fuck NJ. I got ticket by the Gestapo and paid $9 for a pack of cigarettes.

Monday, February 7, 2011

New Day

Sobriety has got to one of the most wretched, disgusting, heinous feelings ever bestowed on a human being.

'Once, during Prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water'

Boredom. Loneliness. Incessant questions from friends and family questioning whether or not I am sober.

No sunshine. No dancing bears with unicorns on top of chocolate fountains. No smiles. No laughs. Just you. You and your thoughts.

People compare addiction to being the jail bars that holds an addict in place. What does that make sobriety?

I asked myself this tonight. I constantly go make and forth on questioning myself a fundamental question -- is sobriety for me? Do I even need to have answer? What the fuck am I doing [more importantly -- have been doing] with my life?

What I want most, I cannot get. That's life. When I got myself into sobriety, I realized really quick that chances are I'm never going to get an answer. The only thing I can do is trudge on, and accept peace of mind can only be achieved by seeking it. Sobriety is my window to the world. With it, I can choose to make the right decisions for myself, something I found impossible to do while using.

I need to get to a meeting. Fucking GPS conked off on me on my way to NA and couldn't find the church it was being held in.