Sobriety Secrets, Life Story

Restless, Irritable, and Discontent





Restless, irritable, and discontent – yep, that’s what I am. As I ride my bike along the skirts of cow-laden fields, I breathe in the dusty air of the road. It is crisp and so are my thoughts. I am deeply invested in them at the moment. I am somewhere lost between here and there. I have fell victim to my disease of Alanon once again. This disease is the most cunning, baffling disease I have ever experienced. I relapse nearly daily and lately; I am in the active pursuit of my own pain – the throes of my own demise.


How could this be? One day I am sinking into the abyss of joy and inner peace in a hammock on the southern tip of the Baja and almost too soon, I wake up in bed gripped in sheer terror about starting another day. I want desperately to run away, but from what? Myself? Anywhere I go, there I am. I hate admitting this. I hate letting others know my life is not as sparkly and shiny as I can make it appear on a screen.


But, the truth is if I don’t get honest, I will succumb to this disease. What does that look like for an Alanon? Well, for me (a double-winner), it means the possible threat of seeking out another solution to dull my thoughts – or drinking again. It means entertaining the twisted ideas of a world less cluttered by me and my thinking. It means death.


Dang, here we go again. The disease of Alanon is so hard to manage. The reason being is because relationships are something I cannot avoid. They are everywhere, from ones with my family, my friends, clients, my neighbors, even the friendly store clerk I see every day at the local grocery store. I will always be in relationships.


With drinking it was easy. I could put the drink down and after time my head cleared enough for me to begin the arduous work of beginning to heal from the disease of alcoholism. With Alanon, I cannot put people down in order to get a clear head long enough to sort it out. Even if I did, like I did in Mexico, I will still have to pick them back up when I get back to real life. I can’t not have another relationship. Short of becoming a hermit, it is impossible to do. This is my truth – the truth about Alanon’s.


The truth is also that I haven’t been on my “A” game with my program of Alanon. In fact, I haven’t been anything with my program of Alanon. Yep, brutal honesty. It sucks. But, its necessary. I don’t know where I lost it. I thought I had it when I got back from Mexico. I mean I was on a pink cloud. But, like an alcoholic, if I don’t have an active program of action then I’m screwed. Who was I fooling? Nobody – just me.


I can make light of it and say I left my program on the luggage carousel in customs at LAX, but all that does is buy me a few more minutes not to acknowledge what must be done. I am hereby admitting to the entire world via the world wide web, that I am completely powerless over people, places, and things. I am once again at step one.


I start to worry about what people will think of me if I don’t work some perfect program or something. Writing blogs makes me vulnerable. I am exposed to everything. That is where I get the most honest.


So, with my pride folded between my legs like a tail, I bow my head and show you my humanness. I am perfectly flawed and armed with the knowledge that there is a solution. Back to the books we go. Phone in hand, I call my Alanon sponsor and ask for help once again.


I understand today that I don’t have to live this way unless I choose to. It’s just how long do I want to sit in my pain is the questions. I really wished that I didn’t have to let it get to the point where other options are something that I start thinking about. I’ve received relief. I know that I need it. I want to be happy, joyous, and free. So, with that I’ll close my notebook and open up my Alanon book. Step one – admitted that we were powerless. I am powerless.


~ Tami Harper Winn ~


The story written here is solely the work of the author’s. Any use or reproduction of this article is prohibited without written consent of the author or credit to the author through works cited.