Alcohol. My relationship with it goes farther back than I’d like to admit. I fell in love with it in college, and started hating it just after when it began wrecking my body. Chronic pancreatitis set in at twenty two and had me hospitalized at least a dozen times over the next seven years.
Outside of the hospital I would drink deadly amounts and do stupid things, trying to get myself killed. It wasn’t until I nearly committed suicide when I decided to get some help.
I made it about seven months. Seven months free of all alcohol. I nearly lost my fucking mind. I can’t even begin to describe the feelings I had three months into recovery… my emotional state of mind. But that was nothing compared to the visual and auditory hallucinations I had when going through withdrawals. These are the things they don’t tell you about when you need to quit a substance.
I fucked up and relapsed – but now I’m going for round 2 of recovery. I know what to expect, and I have my ways of curbing my addiction. It’s only been three days, but I know I can beat my old record if I try.
My problem is – I struggle to find a reason to try, so for the time being, I’m doing it to to make a girl happy. I know I need to do it for myself, but my self esteem is pretty low most days.
I lack goals, purpose, reason. I’ve tried all the things I’ve wanted to try, and I’ve travelled to all the places I want to travel to. My bucket list has only two things left on it – to go skydiving, and to write a book.
Let’s find some goals as we write, shall we?