Chapter 40

It's been really nice to get into a routine for once. I love going to the gym and working out. It has taken the edge off quite a bit. Being sober for 3 weeks hasn't taken that knot in my stomach away at all.

I still think about drinking every day. Every hour. Sometimes it feels like every minute. Keeping focused is the only way that it goes away or feels manageable. I can already tell that this choice that I have made is going to be one of the most difficult.

Cozmo and I talk about it every night while playing cribbage. How we are gonna do this when we actually get out of here.

In here it's almost easy.

I wake up and go workout. I come back and have a hot meal just waiting for me. I eat my fill and go smoke a couple cigarettes with my fellow junkies and lushes. I spend some time talking with the beautiful Lacy, which has been a highlight as of late. Then it is a day full of groups. Small group, men's group, morning group, one on one, night meetings, off campus meetings, on site meetings, more working out, more eating, more smoking and it is like that every day.

All right in front of me.

In here though, someone is telling me what to do and when to do it. When I leave it is entirely up to me.

Just me.

me.

That is the thought that makes me sweat at night and lose sleep. See, I know myself. I know my track record when it comes to difficult things. I can run when it gets tough.

The problem is I know where I will end up if I decide to drink or drug again. It isn't hard for me to play that tape back in my head.

I am not like other people. I don't think about having a drink.

A drink, as in ONE drink.

I think of it in terms of a bottle and what that will do to me. What it will kill. What it will shut down inside my mind. The second alcohol enters my body all bets are off. I can't tell you where I will end up or what I will do. It is one giant game of Russian roulette and just as life threatening.

Non-alcoholics just don't understand this and I really can't blame them because it sounds so crazy. Why the hell can't you just stop?

I can't because I have a disease. This is what they tell me here. I have a disease. One that has been acknowledged by the medical community as a real and tangible disease that will kill me if left untreated.

The hell that comes with it is what drives me crazy. The complete loss of control even when I try my hardest to control it. It owns me. It has my soul.

I know that if I put my hand on the stove it will burn me. I know without a doubt that is what will happen. I can see in front of me the red hot coils of the stovetop. I can feel the heat as my hand gets closer.

I can't stop myself from putting my hand directly on it. I just can't. Even as I smell my own flesh burning and feel the pain that this action causes me every single time, I just can't stop.

That is addiction.

Sometimes the stove isn't as hot and it takes a while for the pain to reach me. In my experience, though, it always will reach me. I always end up in the same place sooner or later.

Looking at myself in the mirror and hating the person that I see.