For about a month now, I’ve been paying Facebook something
in the neighborhood of $2 per day to help get this blog a little more
circulation, and according to my statistics page, it’s having a positive
effect. Actually, my stats are down considerably from last year, which makes
sense because I was still on house arrest then, and my life is substantially fuller
these days, for which I am grateful.
As of today, I have been sober for 1,006 consecutive days.
Some might say I had the benefit of an unfair start being incarcerated for the
first 439 of those days, but there was opportunity everywhere in prison. The
pill-trading game was prevalent, and if I had sought out alcohol, I could have
purchased some, or even risked making my own. I didn’t. I have had numerous
opportunities since my release to sneak off and imbibe that which makes me
sick, inhale that which releases my inner criminal, or snort that which makes
it ok for me to lose touch with my loved ones, but I have resisted. It’s not
just about the opportunity for us addicts; it’s about desire, and I have dealt
with plenty of that, as well.
It’s a recurring theme now as this is the second time I will
have written about this odd, fleeting urge to throw it all away. For only
moments—fractions of seconds—I have the impulse to inhale nitrous oxide from
the whipped-cream canisters in the cooler at work. What the fuck? To divert
myself, I simply look away, and after the itch has subsided, I process it by
looking at my former life; a time where I could not control my desires, and I
could go through a case in a day while working. I can see myself in that awful
condition. I can see emptiness inside and a hollow form where my life once was.
I was using drugs and alcohol to run away from my family, my friends, and
myself.
So why would I see those canisters now and think — even if
ever so briefly—that I could just sneak one? Maybe I am trying to hide again. Maybe
there’s something I’m running away from even now. I think this is probably the
case. My recent troubles in my love life have involved me running away from the
woman I love when she needed me the most. I won’t take all of the blame for the
distresses, but I will take responsibility for my part, and just writing this
out, I can see maybe where I could have acted a little differently, and saved
myself from having to start things over.
On that note, things are looking up, not just romantically,
but jobwise. Heather and I are getting together for a meal of food on Thursday
to start a series of long talks and lectures….. Well, not quite. I think we
both know that whatever we have going on now, it’s worth fixing. Fixing broken
is a difficult task, but as you’ve seen over my years of writing, hard work
most often leads to happiness, and serenity, and I think that’s where we can
get to if we work together on this.
I’ve been working like a horse lately. What I mean by that
is that I am on my feet for eight to ten hours a day and I poop in a bag.
Fortunately, there is relief in sight, as April brings the playoffs, and the
Wild will be out of town for days at a time, giving me a much-needed chance to
catch up on life, and enjoy the spring.
And speaking of spring, it’s a beautiful day out, and I’m
going to wrap this up and take Willie for a walk. Until next time…
