The short version: I reached my goal of 35 days! My pain diary is below… a trip down Hell Lane… topic closed…
OK I’m sober. I hate it. I need a replacement for the alcohol, but nothing (legal) comes to mind. E-cigs are a poor substitute. What can I do, take, buy, ingest, that will make me forget about my stupid life, make my stupid brain shut up? Anyone got any ideas?
Yesterday, Friday, 10/12/13: Was hung over, so pretty easy to remember not to drink. I got up at 4, went to the gym, managed to stay all day at work, we rented a movie & I collapsed from fatigue at 8:30. Pretty darn lame Friday, but sober, so I’ll take it.
Today, Saturday, 10/13/13: Beautiful day outside, was hoping for some action but my wife is pre-occupied with her own stuff. She became the PTO president of a growing school that never had a PTO before, and now she’s finding out how political an environment it can be. I end up helping her a lot, drafting emails & doing web stuff and other junk she’s not good at. She’s better at talking, feelings, relating to people, being cheerful, but me? Well, I’m her behind-the-scenes geek. Happy to help, I am, because I’m not much good at anything else. Just work. Work, work, work.
Made the mistake of doing the budget, found out I’m a couple of thousand dollars behind my upcoming obligations, and after working for 25 years I have enough retirement to live for one year. Woo-hoo. At least I can say that over the last 25 years, raising four kids, I’ve stayed married to the same wonderful girl, who has never had to work outside the home, ever. For that, I’ve given my life energy time and health away to a large corporation in the hope that I’ll be able to stay there long enough to earn a pension, so at least I won’t starve once all the kids are gone.
Why is it that I get up every morning during the week, make plans, get excited, can’t wait for Saturday to come so I can finish a project, and here it’s almost lunch time and I haven’t done a darn thing, I’m depressed and unmotivated and just wish I had a huge bottle of whiskey so I could forget what a loser I am. Geez. Work takes every bit out of me, by Saturday I’m wiped out, and just when I recover from busting my ass at my job, it’ll be Sunday morning, time to go back to work for a few hours and do some programming to make up for the day that I left early. What’s in it for me? I know that’s a selfish thing to ask, but what – I get to have a computer so I can boo-hoo to the world about how pitiful my life is?
Let me enumerate the things that have got me down. I have four major ones, that I cannot change:
- My dad. He is a perfectionistic, judgmental, but very sweet and usually pleasant old man, he just has a very narrow definition of what is important, and it’s a little askew of normal. If there’s something he wants, he gets it, because if Dad isn’t happy, then no one is happy. He talked me into spending my summer vacation with him and my siblings in Colorado. I have to call him on birthdays and any special occasion, because he’ll make me feel 2 inches tall if I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very nice person, but has old-fashioned, extraordinarily rigid ideas, is very ego-centric, has chronic OCD, and is able to make people feel absolutely horrible if they don’t do what he thinks is mandatory. In his late 70’s, he isn’t going to change, and I will continue to be under his authority on those “special” occasions, like I’m still his kid, and I cannot change that.
- My neighbor. We call him Mr. Grumpy. Once he found a tricycle on his property, so he put it inside his locked gate & I had to go beg it back. He once heard the kid’s thrown tennis ball hit his rotting fence and said, Oh so now I know why the fence is falling down. He drew a line, put up a sign, and confronted our lawn crew about mowing on their property; they now have to stop about two feet from the property line just to appease them. My lawn guy agrees, said they are “not nice people” and would never work for them. Most recently, I got a city citation for having garbage in open storage, and the only thing that I can think of is some leftover pool parts in my own back yard, but the idiots in the city government never answered my calls and never told me what the “violation” was, so I don’t know if I fixed it or not. But that’s another thing that I cannot change, and now I know I’m being watched, and I am not free in my own back yard to do what I want.
- My car. I bought myself a sports car 13 years ago, and it’s been wonderful until lately. The door locks failed, the transmission slips & leaks, the rear end leaks, the power steering leaks, the oil leaks, it misfires when it rains, and the paint is peeling. I just bought a new minivan for the family, plus used cars for both of my grown children, and there’s no way I can afford to replace my aging vehicle. I just have to keep fixing it and patching the leaks and praying for a big sack of money to fall from the sky so I can buy another one some day.
- My job. I’m appreciated, respected, abused, taken for granted and overworked. I’m stuck on the current company ladder rung and see no way out. My raises have been mediocre over the past few years because I can’t get promoted. Plus, they make me do stupid stuff that I’m not good at, which I won’t specify here for fear it’ll get back to the boss, but it’s never enough, always more more more, and half the people are moving on to other jobs at other locations. But not me. My parents & my wife’s parents live close by, there’s no way I could transfer, and barring some fantastic opportunity that miraculously appears, I will be there in my cube, obediently grinding away my life, for the next fifteen years.
So those are four things that I am stuck with that I cannot change. If I could see some hope in just one of them, it would be great, but my nosy stupid neighbors are not moving, my dad will never change, I can’t afford to upgrade or replace my car, and given that my entire extended family is depending on me, I cannot change jobs. So I’m trapped, and my only escape from this crushing, guilt-driven reality is alcohol, unless I can somehow dig myself out of this pit of despair and find another way to change my outlook. I tried buying myself something. I recently bought some Bose Bluetooth wireless headphones so I could use them at the gym, but they don’t make me happy. Nothing does. Not my computer that I built for myself, not the new wheels I put on my sports car, not the half-day off from work that I spent with my wife. It’s all just momentary distraction from a dull, painful reality.
I know that if I can make it until Wednesday, when I have my next checkup, that’s five days since my last drop of whiskey, and the withdrawal symptoms will be gone, but I disagree with my therapist; I don’t think I’m physically dependent on alcohol, I think it’s mental. I don’t get epileptic shakes and a fever; I just get a slowly growing anxiety, like I’m trying to hold my breath, a bird over water, just make it until the workday is over, just make it until bedtime, just make it through the next day, fight traffic, appease my dad, pay the bills, fix the cars, finish some stupid home-improvement project. Just waiting for something that never comes, some relief from the unending procession of responsibilities and drudgery, until I can’t take it any more and I pay another visit to the friendly man at the liquor store for some much-needed relief.
I know I need to be more positive. I could look at things in a better light: my parents love me, and whatever my dad does, he does out of love, he doesn’t know he has OCD, to him everything he thinks is right and appropriate. My neighbors are OK; could be worse, they could have heavy-metal garage musician children, throw loud parties, or be verbally confrontational. My car still runs like a bat out of hell, and thanks to the suspension upgrades can turn on a brimstone, and all it requires is a fluid top-off every week and a repair now and then. Who needs door locks, there’s nothing in there worth stealing anyway. Shouldn’t really complain about my job; it’s one of the gloriously blessed Obamacare-exempt corporations, the pay is good, the benefits are fantastic; could be worse, a lot worse.
I still covet the prayers of those of you that have expressed your support here & other places. My drinking problem is globally public and I really do appreciate the positive comments I have received, from people all over the world. I’ve told my wife that if the self-control and therapy combination does not work, I’ll step it up a notch, an outpatient program or lobotomy or something. One thing I do have is a loving, caring, sweet wife, kind and sweet children, two adorable grandchildren and another on the way. There is a lot to live for, and I need to live, not only for those that depend on me, but so that I can enjoy life rather than suffer through it. A lot is riding on my ability to control my addiction, and I have the best of intentions of quitting, and I have a small bit of hope that a year from now, I’ll read this and see it as a major turning point in my life, when my painful little world I lived in became less bleak and I followed that ray of sunshine out of my cloud of misery and into the light of sober contentment and happiness.
Or maybe I’ll just say fuck it and get drunk. Again.
Sunday 10/13/13: Woke up lite-headed, a little woozy and unmotivated. My wife thinks it’s withdrawal, and I’m sure it is. Was going to go to work, but decided not to. Took the dog for a walk to distract me, ended up over an hour around & around the park. Ugh, I feel terrible. This truly, truly is a difficult thing. I wish I could warn young people not to drink so much, because once you get to where I am, not only is it really tough to quit, but the buzz you get decreases to the point that it makes you feel good for less & less time, and worse afterwards. Recovery from binge drinking is no longer restricted to the following morning, but extends into the night & next day. But, no one would listen; I didn’t.
Going to spend my Sober Sunday with the family, trying to come up with constant distraction. LOVE my Bluetooth headset and Skillet album I bought. Hard to exercise without music, and all of the music I already had, just reminds me of being drunk because I listened to those songs over & over again when I was drinking. Now the Skillet music satisfies my craving for heavy metal, but has a good uplifting message that I can relate to. More to come…
I find it odd that I’m skipping Church on a Sunday, listening to music that talks about how I feel, and one particular song about how I don’t need to stare at stained glass or sit in a pew, all I need is you (Jesus). So today is going to be rough, but Wednesday cometh… Keep praying, I’m going to do this. And no more alcohol – ZERO – I’m not tapering off like last time, because one beer leads to another, which leads to stronger beers, which leads to whiskey, and then I’m hooked and have to start this shit all over again.
If you’re interested, I am a born-again Christian. It’s embarrassing, but I’ve had it with being embarrassed. I don’t care if anyone knows I sin, because EVERYONE SINS. Get over it… my sin is one I’ve hidden for years, and now if you found this blog, it’s still kind of secret (unless you know me), but I don’t care if you judge me, because you could never be as harsh as I am on myself. I have a splinter of hope here, and it’s fragile, but I’m trying…
Tuesday 10/15/13: This is supposed to be the last day of withdrawal. I’ve been a little extra jumpy and irritable, but not really that bad. I remember why I gave up last time; I don’t like being sober. It’s painful; life becomes one continuous, never-ending procession of events, responsibilities, activities, and absolutely nothing to take my mind off of the world around me, worry about the future, guilt about the past, stress and depression, and no way to take a holiday. Plus today I managed somehow to strain my back and now it just hurts, constantly.
So day 5: sober and hating it…
Monday, 10/28/13: I have had one of, if not the most, scary, hellish weekends in my life. First of all, I fell of the wagon, got depressed and haven’t updated this blog for a while. I made it to day 6 or 7, then gave up. Again. I take these pills, clonazepam, that I got years ago from my shrink. They are mild tranquilizers, meant to treat my anxiety & prevent the panic disorder that I developed when my daughter ran away to Mexico because the law was looking for her boyfriend. That, and the wife’s cancer, are what got me into this pitiful state I’m in right now.
Anyway, being sick of my life, and my job, I had scheduled a meeting with one of the big whigs on Friday about other positions in the company. I was EXTREMELY anxious and nervous about it – I’ve been at the same facility for 25 years, and moving away to somewhere new, to me, is a HUGE risk. So, all of my perscriptions are set up to renew on the same day – did that on purpose, makes my life simpler – and I went to pick them up on Thrusday, and found out my clonazepam was DENIED by my doctor. Not just, he hasn’t replied yet, but DENIED. I tried to call on Friday, but was so nervous about the interview that I didn’t, well I tried once but got put on hold & forgot, and they close early so I just went home and drank an ENORMOUS amount of Jim Beam. I had about three fifths, zoned out & fell asleep.
Saturday was pure misery. I spent the whole day wondering if my heart was going to stop. Worse, I started to get withdrawal symptoms from the clonazepam. I did absolutely nothing. No projects. No trips. Didn’t do a damn thing but sit there, drink water & pray that God would forgive me. Again.
Since I had some free time, I looked up clonazepam on the internet. The first hit I got was titled, World’s deadliest drug. I read & read & read some more, and found out that my depression and weight gain are a symptom of long-term use. Withdrawal can be deadly. Stevie Nicks talked about it on one site, said it robbed her of 8 hears of her life. Just turns you off, makes you not want to do anything after work; just crawl into a bottle and swallow your life away.
I spent Saturday night alternately drinking water, practicing breathing techniques, praying and wondering if I would wake up if I fell asleep. Sunday I was a mess. Brain “zaps”, muscle twitches, hot & cold flashes, my asthma started acting up, and I wondered if I should go to the ER but was afraid that they would think I was a drug addict. Left a message for my doctor and he FINALLY called in a refill around noon, and I swallowed the pill in the car (my wife had to drive; I was so jumpy at every sound & movement I wouldn’t have made it) and about 2 hours later started to feel better.
So now I have two addictions to fight, if you don’t count the nicotine in the ecigs. The trick is, alcohol withdrawal causes seizures, clonazepam prevents them. So I’m cutting back on both and hoping my body is still young enough to survive. Lots of water, lots of walks & visits to the gym. I guess today is my first “sober day” again; I’m at half-dose on my drug and I drank the swallow of whiskey left in the bottle yesterday. Still twichy and nervous and last night I woke up & my entire left hand was completely numb, but guess what, now I can say I’m an alcoholic AND a drug addict.
This just keeps getting better & better…
Day 4 Thursday 10/31/13: This has been the most difficult thing I have ever done. Not only am I giving up alcohol, but I’m also dealing with drug withdrawal. So far, so good. I’ve not had a drop of booze, and I’ve cut my anti-panic clonazepam dosage in half. I’m not shaking as much and my sleep is getting back to normal. Every day, though, it’s a fight. I’m heavy into the ecigs; got one plugged into my computer and one in the car. So I’m trading alcohol and tranquilizer addiction for nicotine addiction. What do you think; an improvement? At least I won’t crash my car into a wall… or want to…
Went to the gym this morning at 4:30am. Just took my half-pill of clonazepam, along with the fistful of vitamins that have been keeping me alive over the past few years. I was trying to figure out how long I’ve been taking that drug; let’s see, my daughter was 16 when she ran away, and now she’s 22, so roughly 6 years. Long time. I can do this, though. It’s possible. Life can be better. I helped my kids with their homework last night. Haven’t done that in a long time. And I was completely wasted last Halloween. This time, if I can fend off temptation, I might remember it.
Prayers are welcome, as always. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I can see the path ahead…
Day 5 Friday 11/1/13: Quick update, working the weekend; I made it through Halloween without succumbing to temptation. Now that we’re all done celebrating death, I look forward to celebrating the birth of Christ… oh, I forgot about the shopping… never mind; at least when we celebrate darkness we only have to buy candy… <sigh> credit card, brace yourself…
Day 7 Sunday 11/3/13: This is absolutely the most difficult thing I have ever done. I want out. I don’t want to be doing this any more. I want my crutch back. I want my booze. I want my pills. I want my escape. Help…
My therapist said physically, alcohol withdrawal ends after 5 days. Mentally, it takes 30 days to make a significant change in the cravings, and 90 days for permanent sobriety. And from Internet research, I know that clonazepam dosage adjustment takes three weeks, and getting back to “normal” takes 12-18 months AFTER totally quitting. This stinks. I wish I could go back in time and tell that shrink to shove those pills up her ass. Actually, she loves horses, so she probably does have several asses…
This past week I’ve had one continuous headache, my muscles are still twitchy, my ears ring, I have mood swings, and right now I’m depressed. I changed my Facebook profile picture to a bottle of Excedrine and a glass of water. My arms feel too heavy to lift, and I’m sore all over. I can’t tell if I’m tired, and my mouth is dry. I just took the dog for a walk, and it helped a little, but I just can’t help but wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. I’m beginning to think that I might not make it. This is tough. Really, really tough.
I know how to DO things. I can motivate myself to go to work, or help in the kitchen, or fix something. But how do you motivate yourself to NOT do something? I’m just beat. I am so tired of the slow breathing, the walking, the meditation; all the stuff I have to do to keep away from the pill bottle and the liquor store. It’s exhausting.
The job fell through. I did get a bonus at work, which is nice I guess. Just enough to cover the Halloween supplies and the cell phone for my daughter (she had a broken screen and I tried to fix it, but broke the damn thing instead so I bought her a new one). I’m trying to sell my cement mixer so I can have enough money to buy a fancy grill. Everything is just too hard. I can barely make it through the work day, much less pursue any hobbies or projects. The minutes are inching along… I get a half-pill in two hours… ugh I don’t want to do this any more… Jesus help me because I’m on the brink of disaster here… I… want… to… escape… this… horrible… place… and… go… HOME…… (you fellow Christians know what I mean).
Day 11 Thursday 11/7/13: Things are getting better! I don’t really crave alcohol, the ticks & twitches from the clonazepam withdrawal are all but gone, and the exercise at the gym is finally paying off. Got my blood work back from the doctor and my chloresterol is down, and my blood pressure is in the green zone for the first time in a very, very long time. At the moment, I’m at work, typically unmotivated with a mountain of tasks that I cannot possibly complete, but there is hope.
I have a new favorite saying, borrowed from a friend that I got on this blog: “Every day above ground is a good day.” Amen.
Day 12 Friday 11/8/13: I am now at the “why the heck did I stop drinking again?” stage. I can read my previous posts and remember, but it’s Friday, I’m home early, the wife is away, and it’s EXTREMELY tempting to get in the car & pay a clandestine visit to the liquor store.
But I won’t.
Life is worth living. I have to keep at this. My wife needs me. My kids need me. And all the money in the world can’t replace me. God grant me the strength to resist… I sure as heck don’t want to start over. Those have been twelve hard-fought daily victories, and I’m gonna be stubborn and stay on target. Even if it means I raid the leftover Halloween candy. My numbers are all better – blood pressure, cholesterol, triglycerides, you name it. I’m getting more muscular and healthier from my gym visits. I go before work, at 4:30am. It’s nice, quiet, and makes me more relaxed the rest of the day.
The problem right now is that it’s Friday. I associate that with partying, letting loose, celebrating making it another week through my slavery – I mean, job – and I’m not really sure what to do with myself in lieu of booze. Maybe I’ll go grab some orange Oreo’s and watch a movie or something… Please pray for me; this is still very hard to do…
Day 13 Saturday 11/9/13: Remember when Saturdays were full of projects or fun, and just seemed too short? No? Me either. The clock has slowed tremendously; feels like I’m in a time warp. Still hanging on (by a thread), but, still in it to win it… just took my half-dose of Clonazepam and waiting for it to kick in. Did a lot today; up at 4, stretching, playing games on the iphone, on the PC, watched a movie, worked on the car, went to the store, and now helping to cook dinner. Distractions help. A little. Ugh, this is taking forever…
Day 18 Thursday 11/14/13: Still sober! I was actually in a good mood for about five minutes yesterday. I am very proud to have made it this far. Had a little emotional event, a run-in with a painful past, but I’m dealing with it. Sort of. At least, I haven’t hit the bottle. Spending a lot of time with my ecig; I think we’re going steady.
Side effects are subsiding; I don’t crave alcohol specifically, though I wish there was something I could do to escape life. My body must still be adjusting, because I go through wild changes – not really moods, but outlooks. One moment I can be excited about the future and love life, another I’m trying to plan the perfect suicide. Right now I’m dealing with a lot of anger, and I’m not sure where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s because I feel like I deserve something. I don’t know. My car has broken twice in the last couple of days – the tailpipe support broke off, and the heater core sprung a leak, making the ride to work either freezing cold, or toasty warm with a bitter antifreeze smell.
Still, I’m committed. Gotta make it to day 35 – that’s my new goal, because after 30 days it’s supposed to get better, but right around the 30-day mark there’s a tendency to relapse. Just ordered a new grille, excited about that, but disappointed that no one wants to buy my cement mixer. That was the money that was supposed to pay for the wood-pellet grille, but I only had one buyer who offered me half of what I wanted & never called back. And I still have the same old stupid job in the same lonely cubicle, but I do have a job, I have health care, I’m getting annual raises, so it’s just like my car, just like my whole life; not great, but good enough to make me feel guilty complaining because so many people have it so much worse than me…
Day 25 Thursday 11/21/13: Depressed. Sober, but depressed. Nothing interests or excites me. I don’t understand it. I’m doing everything right. Stopped drinking. Cut back on medication. Bought myself a fancy new toy. Spending time with the family. Exercising three times a week at the gym. Eating better. Cooking great food. But I’m just empty inside. Just, vague and listless. I thought everything was supposed to get better, but it’s worse. People are getting on my nerves, even my sweet, wonderful wife. I don’t understand it.
Trying to make an appointment with the “AA is the only way” therapist. Don’t want to start over with someone new. Tried to call yesterday but so busy at work that I missed her call-back. She doesn’t work Fridays so it’s another weekend of boredom before I can get any help. I guess I just don’t deserve to be happy. I don’t know what else to do. Hanging on by a thread, in hopes that it gets better after 30 days, like everyone says. But that wouldn’t be the first time the sales pitch was better than reality; it always is; reality can be harsh, difficult and very disappointing.
My hopes are worn out, but I’m trying to keep them up, trying to be optimistic about it, hoping against all evidence that things will get better. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day than today. We’ll see…
Day 28 Sunday 11/24/13: I’ve had a headache and ringing ears for 4 weeks now. It’s getting hard to remember why I did this. Babysat my granddaughters a couple of days ago, totally lucid and I was able to spend quality time feeding & changing them (I still remember how to work a diaper) and bouncing around on the trampoline. Everyone else is thrilled that they don’t have to be scared of what I might do or say, and wonder when I pass out if I’m dead. But not me. I’m seriously seeing a blurred line between life and death; they both don’t hold much promise for me. On the one hand, I’m feeling better physically, able to do things I can’t do when I’m drunk, I remember what people say and what I did last night, and the morning-after guilt is gone. On the other hand, this is endless agony: I’m listless, emotionless, and if it doesn’t get better soon I’m going to just say forget this and just go right back into the bottle that put this pain in me in the first place. I may still be miserable, but I’ll think I’m happy.
I did have a bit of an epiphany yesterday. Sitting in the back yard, throwing the tennis ball for the dog out of guilt, questioning my decision to buy the shock collar that traumatized her to where she shakes all over & won’t leave the back porch for fear, looking at my crappy house and its crappy, dirty, plastic siding, the stupid ugly fence that I put up with warped planks, and letting out a big sigh as I stare at the $1000 pellet grill that I bought, just to find out that a good grill maketh not a good chef; I threw the ball far across the yard, and realized: I did this. I bought this house. I got this dog. I went from a drugged out rebellious teenager, alone and depressed, to a successful programmer with a big house, a big yard, a beautiful wife, four great kids, two grand-kids and one on the way. And I felt proud. I’ve done good. God has blessed me, honored my efforts, and I have enlarged and become greater than I ever imagined. It’s not perfect, it’s a half-empty glass, but it’s my glass, and it’s half-full with loving, caring people that wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. I done good. I really done did good here.
That calmed me down a bit. I also realized something else. I’m a writer. I can make people laugh. I can express myself in writing as well as just about anybody. And, like most good writers, I’m a tortured soul. I’m an alcoholic, drug-addicted smoker with chronic migraines and profound self-doubt. It’s my fate. God gave me gifts that shine brightest against a background of misery, impossible challenges, oppressive heaviness and winless competitions. I am my own worst enemy. I am so grateful that I have a place to share my thoughts, that a few people find comfort in my words, and that God has given me 25 years of a faithful woman’s devotion. It stinks, but at least I have a purpose during my tenure on this rock.
God done good. He really has… Hope I don’t flub it up… Stay tuned…
Day 34 Saturday 11/30/13: Still sober. Warning to the reader: days around #30 are pure hell. The last two times I did this, I made it to day 26 & day 30, then quit. One of my friends that I met here made it to day 32 before he had a slight relapse. The brain resets itself “around” day 30, and I had a major panic reaction and a few times had made up my mind to just forget everything and get something, anything, maybe just a fifth, to survive. But, somehow I managed to avoid it, and here I am. Day 34. Thirty-four days of pure misery, depression, ringing ears and nightmares. If this doesn’t get better, then I will resume my drinking again. I don’t see how this is worth anything to me; everyone else is happy, but I’m miserable. I bought my wife a diamond ring for our 25th wedding anniversary. I bought myself a fancy grill to try & distract myself, give me something to do besides sit around and think about booze. I just got caught up on my tithing, and guess what: big surprise, I’m in major debt, in fact I’ve almost maxed out my Discover card, and I’ve already spent my cash-back bonus and I just placed an order to sell all of my company stock. It’s not much, since I do that every year before Christmas, but it helps. I can’t spend anything now until the next Discover billing cycle comes around, which means I’ll have one or two days to order Christmas gifts in order for them to arrive on time. Bottom line is, I’m broke. I don’t care. It’s only money, right? I just sent a couple thousand dollars to a Christian organization that teaches people about the Bible, plus a few hundred to a missionary that used to be our pastor. It’s not my money; it’s 11% of my gross income, which I promised to give back to God, according to His commandment. So, I’m not going to worry about it. I’m not. Financially, it’s killing me, especially since the stupid government is taking a ton of taxes out of the same gross income. My semi-monthly paycheck typically has $1000 just in federal taxes removed. After you subtract the taxes, the insurance, the United Way deduction, well there’s little left, after I pay the mortgage, utilities, credit card bills, car payment. I’m just dreaming when I think of replacing my 13-year-old Camaro… there is no way on earth that will happen any time in the foreseeable future. But, God will provide. He always has, He always will. I’ve been this bad before. When I add up all of my money, and subtract all of my obligations, I come up with negative four grand. But God will provide. Somehow, someway, He will provide. And in the mean time, I will trust Him for the strength to make it through work, to continue to dazzle & amaze my boss & coworkers, put on a happy, dedicated, enthusiastic face, while I suffer inside with a shadowy darkness that can only be described as tomb-like. I’m just dead inside. I really, really am.
One more day to day 35, and then I’m going to start a new post. It’ll be called The Christian Alcoholic, and it’ll be a summary of everything I’ve learned, all of the comments I have received, all of the wisdom I have gotten as I’ve stumbled down this rocky path. Maybe it will do someone some good. And then, if I still feel like shit, I’m going to go buy some booze. I’ll get drunk, feel bad, repent, ask for forgiveness and start the merry-go-round cycle all over again… probably stay on that ride until I’m dead… which may be any time now…