Don’t Let the Alcoholic Drive the Bus

My black mood yesterday followed me through dinner, getting ready for the next day, and landed me in bed at 8:00 and rendered me unconscious before 8:30. My alarm blasted at 5:00, playing “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse. It worked. No snooze button for me.

Rest in peace, lovely girl.

Rest in peace, lovely girl.

Even though I didn’t think I needed to get more sleep, apparently I needed it since I blew through eight-and-a-half hours. I keep expecting to have dreams in which I get drunk and flush my 21 days of sobriety down the drain, as my fellow alcoholics and addicts warned me. So far, I don’t remember many dreams, but I often wake with a feeling of pure dread.

When I met with my sponsor Saturday afternoon, he said, “Look, you’ve quit drinking, but you still have the mind of an alcoholic.” He’s absolutely right. Katie and Charles had said as much, too, but their language is different; My sponsor is a normal, down-to-earth guy. He shoots straight and doesn’t accept bullshit, mine or other people’s. I need folks like that around me.

He also said, “You got to remember, you just cut out the thing you’ve relied on for the last fourteen years or so. Your mind and body has to get used to that.”

Fourteen years? No, I’ve had to revise that. Alcohol has been a constant in my life since I was in my early twenties, and I cemented my relationship with it when I was at least twenty three. My dependence and tolerance grew over the years, but we’re talking, at minimum, eighteen years in which I could count on alcohol to get me through the day or night.

Not to resort to bad puns, but that’s a sobering thought. *rimshot*

I haven’t driven my life off the cliff like some people I’ve read about in the Big Book, but it was heading that way. I was steering the bus in that direction with the pedal to the metal and ignoring the worried looks and protests of my passengers and not giving a royal fuck about other folks on the road. Thankfully, I hit the brakes.

I may have hit the brakes, but that thing is still in bad shape.

I may have hit the brakes, but that thing is still in bad shape.

I’m still in the driver’s seat, my hands in a death-grip on the steering wheel.

Ahead of me is Step Two, and I’m worried I’ll crank this bad boy up and go sailing into the air.


About Robert Crisp

Just a lad who likes to create.
This entry was posted in AA, addiction, alcoholism, early sobriety, recovery, sobriety, treatment, withdrawal and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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