Some days I wish I could have a glass of wine or six. This leaves me with two choices: Fall off the wagon with zeal or stay sober and resent the world with zeal.
It’s funny, because binge eating was the addictive behavior that got me into the most trouble and I don’t get this way over the flour and sugar I used to stuff myself with.
Mood music:
[spotify:track:1LHi4OZluPAa2iCf3QatBJ]
Yesterday afternoon I was really feeling it. The pressures of the day were weighing me down like a board loaded with bricks. It wasn’t even a bad day, really. I got to spend most of the work day on the back deck with Erin (I love working in the open air. It’s even better when my beautiful bride is working next to me). We got a walk in. I got a lot of work done.
And yet …
This resentment usually takes hold when I have family concerns on my mind or the work day has wiped me out. Sometimes, in that state, I want the release a buzz can provide. Since I’ve pretty much given up everything else, I badly want something I can use as my crutch. No booze. No sweets. No cigars. What else is there?
I came to my senses last night and went to bed instead of contemplating a fall off the wagon. I’m thankful that I can do that when the tension gets to be too much.
In the final analysis, I know it has to be this way, because I have absolutely zero ability to enjoy these things in moderation. When you have an addictive personality, moderation doesn’t exist. It’s as foreign a concept as walking on Mars. I have to have it all. Other addicts know this feeling.
So I have to abstain. I have no choice.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m grateful the substance demons aren’t running my life anymore. It’s a freedom unlike any other. I experience more life more often as a result. It’s better that way.
But one percent of the time, I despise the universe for giving me an addictive mind. In those moments, I want a bottle of wine so badly it makes my head hurt.
I survived it last night. I’ll take satisfaction in that and move on.
