Long day; weekend days are difficult early on. A lot of hours to fill.
Went for a run today, my first in a while. We have a huge, 105 acre cemetery near our house and I love running there. I love seeing the singular, brief messages people chose to leave the world, the tiniest distillation of who they were. Often just 'Father' or 'Mother.' The occasional sports team logo. A Greek name, under which reads 'The American Dream'. The long, full lives make me happy, the short ones make me grateful that I still have a chance to turn it all around before I'm one of them, a tombstone marked 1974-2011, with the odd observer wondering what it might have been that did me in so young.
And the answer, honestly, would be 'me.' It can be the hardest thing in the world not to have that first drink some days. Today was not easy; very fussy baby, perpetually underslept (what new parent isn't?), no energy, just had it. But I dragged myself out for a run to the cemetery to help get my mind right, get the exercise endorphins going, get some Vitamin D from the sun, get out of the house and out of my head. One of many options I had to halt the slow slide towards that first drink.
Big distinction: I have the choice about whether or not to have that first drink. Always, always, always. After I do, things happen in my brain that take the fullness of the choice to drink or not away from me. Nine times out of 10, once I have one, I'm going to drink until I black out. But I *always* have the choice about that first drink.
It is so easy to ignore the inevitability of tragedy if you focus on just the one drink, just this one little slip. But if you're here on these forums, you're willfully ignoring the wide view, the space shuttle shot of Earth perspective: so many seemingly innocuous first drinks, one little dot connected to hundreds, thousands of other little dots, marching slowly and surely and inevitably towards jail, insanity or death.
Day 6: No need to try and fool myself today. No myopia for me. I see the forest for the trees, and I refuse to contribute to my own demise.
Went for a run today, my first in a while. We have a huge, 105 acre cemetery near our house and I love running there. I love seeing the singular, brief messages people chose to leave the world, the tiniest distillation of who they were. Often just 'Father' or 'Mother.' The occasional sports team logo. A Greek name, under which reads 'The American Dream'. The long, full lives make me happy, the short ones make me grateful that I still have a chance to turn it all around before I'm one of them, a tombstone marked 1974-2011, with the odd observer wondering what it might have been that did me in so young.
And the answer, honestly, would be 'me.' It can be the hardest thing in the world not to have that first drink some days. Today was not easy; very fussy baby, perpetually underslept (what new parent isn't?), no energy, just had it. But I dragged myself out for a run to the cemetery to help get my mind right, get the exercise endorphins going, get some Vitamin D from the sun, get out of the house and out of my head. One of many options I had to halt the slow slide towards that first drink.
Big distinction: I have the choice about whether or not to have that first drink. Always, always, always. After I do, things happen in my brain that take the fullness of the choice to drink or not away from me. Nine times out of 10, once I have one, I'm going to drink until I black out. But I *always* have the choice about that first drink.
It is so easy to ignore the inevitability of tragedy if you focus on just the one drink, just this one little slip. But if you're here on these forums, you're willfully ignoring the wide view, the space shuttle shot of Earth perspective: so many seemingly innocuous first drinks, one little dot connected to hundreds, thousands of other little dots, marching slowly and surely and inevitably towards jail, insanity or death.
Day 6: No need to try and fool myself today. No myopia for me. I see the forest for the trees, and I refuse to contribute to my own demise.
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