Letting others see in, so we can see out.

We are Recovering alcoholics and addicts, and these are mini-chapters of our lives. Here, we are learning to live a life of choice; we're learning to live Drunkless.

We'll share in our writings, in our podcasts, in our photos, art, and music -- our creativity will show who we are, what we're going through, and how we make it -- 24 hours at a time.




Learning to Live

By: DL

I’ve been in a cut-up funk this morning, one that was really beginning to get to me.  I just couldn’t seem to step away from the jabs of the twins, Left Side and Right Side.  In fact, it was becoming unbearable, and the falsely perceived thoughts of my self-worth were beginning to bleed through the old gauze I used to cover them up; hide the wounds and all will be better, right?

This is about where I do one of two things: Drown – or stand up in the fucking shallow pool and realize that it is a shallow-fucking-pool; I don’t have to drown.  Consulting with my two confidants, I chose the obvious; and decided to drown.  Fucking Left Side and Right Side – I hate those two.  When will I ever learn?

For a few hours, I splished and splashed, wondering who was going to save my ass.  Of course, Left Side and Right Side had to shout out their words of encouragement, “Just go under!  It will get over faster!  No one is going to miss you, anyway!  I bet if you went a week you’d find that no one fucking cares!” and on and on… I’ll stop here, it makes me sick thinking of it.

Strangely (or probably not so strangely), I didn’t drown.  I got tired of being drenched, and I stood up.  Sometimes I wonder if they’ve got something else up their sleeve.  In the past, it was all trickery, hoping to get me into my truck to drive off of a cliff; they had become nearly successful on several occasions.  But today, today I was “heading down to the park,” as they’d convinced me.

I knew I needed to eat, I hadn’t eaten in a while, so I grabbed a salad and a chicken wrap, and of course, my mega-overdose of uber-highly-loaded caffeinated black-coffee.  Nothing like the bitter taste to go with a bitter mood – or, well, actually something sweet would have been nice, both taste wise and emotional wise, but that’s another story.

Or – is it?

I grabbed my highly-caffeinated coffee, and “headed to the park” that Left Side and Right Side had conned me into going to.  But little did they know, I needed out of the house!  It was sunny and beautiful outside!  What a perfect day to go waste sitting in the park… alone… with nothing else to do but listen to them argue about the value of my half-life and everything I do.  Goddamn fuckers.  I hate them.

As I mindlessly headed to my destination, I got a BLIP! on my phone.  It was SponseeBro.  I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to respond, because truthfully, I was wallowing in my own self-created and assumed uncontrollable-misery, a place where I knew what was going to happen, even if it was shitty – but at least I knew.  But I owed him a response.  He didn’t have to go out of his way to let me know what was going on with him, and yet – he did. Well, I'd had enough of me being pissed off at me, so I didn’t want him pissed off at me as well.

So as it happened, I tried to text him back, but a funny thing with Facebook – they have a new thing called a “call” feature now.  Huh.  Use a phone to access a social “chat” site so a call could be made.  Okay.  Well, I didn’t know this feature existed, so I was trying to figure out how in the hell I was “calling” SponseeBro back!  It didn’t make any sense!  I discontinued the call, only to immediately get a return call.  ‘Oh man, now I have to answer this!’ I thought.  I’m a texter, not a talker – but I answered anyway.

I’m glad I did.

I hear in The Rooms all the time how The Program has “taught me how live life.”  I’d heard it enough times to be sick of it, though I have repeated it on occasion.  It’s not that I don’t believe it, it’s just that what I thought I had experienced in the recent past, wasn’t even close to what was happening right now – on a magnitude I didn’t even know existed.

We made arrangements to meet at a coffee shop.  I’d just picked up my coffee, but I knew I needed to sit down with someone and talk, about anything, with anyone; just enough to get Left Side and Right Side to shut the fuck up – so to hell with “too much caffeine,” I was getting more coffee.

As SponseeBro and I talked, it became clear to me that I began to feel my diminishing value early last night; I was writing a blog based on expectations – a blog I’ve started and stopped many, many times (and one I will post soon, if not right after this one).  It’s a difficult subject for me, not because I can’t comprehend it, but because, sadly, I fear I do it all the time; in particularly on one specific area in my life that I’ll continue to be vague about as I discretely give hints of the impending, self-created catastrophe that will (or really won’t) happen.  Or, something like that.

Here’s the thing, I like to write.  Writing helps me process, probably better than anything Left Side and Right Side could ever help me with, though I tend to lean on them a lot.  Don’t ask me why, we all see where this entire thing started to begin with!  Nonetheless, I always seem to turn to those two.  <sigh>  Maybe someday I’ll convert them to the light, until then…

Until then, I have what I think I’ve heard The Rooms refer to as “People”.  People are those things that walk around on two legs with dangling, arm-like tentacles that sometimes get wrapped around each other before falling back to their sides.  If you’ve never seen it, let me know in the comments, and I’ll try to post a picture of them in the act.  It’s kinda frightening, actually – although, admittedly, I’m getting used to it.

More on point, these People also have what I can only deduce as being Ears, and they look like they actually use them.  Ya.  It’s true, I can speak from today's experience; that’s what was happening right in front of my eyes.  And not with only one of them, either.

As I sat there gabbing with SponseeBro, my sponsor walked into the coffee shop.  Small world!  And gratefully so.  All three of us talked; that is, words were projected from our mouths, absorbed by our ears, and appropriate responses passed around.  Does this make any sense?  Because to me, it’s just weird talking about certain things, yet I found myself uncontrollably beginning to open up, only to be reminded by either Left Side or Right Side, “HEY!  What are you DOING?  They’ll see you, dummy!  STOP IT!  Just stop it.  You’ll be laughed at.”  My response, if you’re interested, was to simply send them to their room and shut the door.  Appropriate response?  I don’t know.  But that’s what I did, and I was able to shut them down for a while.  I didn't open up as much as I could have, but I'm no longer just peaking out.

So, am I supposed to assume that this is the definition of “how to live life?”  Where I sit down, and the words that I usually write here on virtual pen and paper, are instead expelled from my lips, into said Ears, and absorbed, processed, and understood by them, The People?  Because, if it is – HO.LY. SHIT.

Again, I find myself learning, or relearning as the case may be, Life Skills.  I say something, and something comes back – from the outside back in… not from the inside, bouncing around inside, and reiterating a false idea about who I am or what I stand for or why.

Sponsor and SponseeBro realigned my head, pointed it straight, and turned on the fucking lights; even if only for the rest of the day.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, “I’m learning to live life, on Life’s terms.”  OR, since I actually decided to make a choice and chose to meet and talk, I should say, “I’m learning to live a Life of Choice; I’m learning to live Drunkless.”



Drunkless Life

Be Positive. Be Compassionate. Be Love. Be Spiritual. Be Life. Just BE.

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