the drugs don't work, they just make you hurt...
Honestly, I am writing this because my ass is against a wall. I need to read my big book and work my program and talk to my sponsor because the mental obsession is sneaky and it really did sneak up on me this time. 90something days sober and there's painkillers next door and all I can do is think about how to get them… even when I know I don't want to get high. Getting high makes everything worse. Thank you God that I remember feeling like shit coming down from them. Not the feeling, but the memory of feeling so bad I wanted to die.
The feeling I had when I woke up on New Year's Day and gave up on my own life and on myself ever being a person worthy of being on this earth.
The feeling I had when I woke up on December 1st and remembered what I'd done and didn't tell.
The feeling I had when I spoke to Allie. Or Sarah. Or Kat. Or my dad. Or my mom. Or a client. Or Michael.
Lying, stealing, cheating, manipulating, sneaking, hoarding, complete powerlessness. Over drugs and alcohol. Over the alcoholism and the addiction and the depression and the anxiety.
How much I cared about your next refill. How much I cared about that last pill you saw in the car. How my head is in the bathroom next door frantically searching for an orange bottle with a white top.
Dear God, please help. Please help me not get high. Please help me with my recovery. I will do anything. I will do anything to stay sober. I want to mean that so badly.
I'm tired of this, tired of this feeling, tired of this disease, tired of the mind games that my addict brain plays on my sane-person brain. Tired of thinking I can have it all and trying to make sense out of something that will never make sense at all. Tired of questioning and tired of caring and tired of being alive if this is living. Please God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
Dear God, thank you for my sobriety today. It is a true miracle that I am not trying to find a way to get to those pills right now. Dear God, please help me.
The feeling I had when I woke up on New Year's Day and gave up on my own life and on myself ever being a person worthy of being on this earth.
The feeling I had when I woke up on December 1st and remembered what I'd done and didn't tell.
The feeling I had when I spoke to Allie. Or Sarah. Or Kat. Or my dad. Or my mom. Or a client. Or Michael.
Lying, stealing, cheating, manipulating, sneaking, hoarding, complete powerlessness. Over drugs and alcohol. Over the alcoholism and the addiction and the depression and the anxiety.
How much I cared about your next refill. How much I cared about that last pill you saw in the car. How my head is in the bathroom next door frantically searching for an orange bottle with a white top.
Dear God, please help. Please help me not get high. Please help me with my recovery. I will do anything. I will do anything to stay sober. I want to mean that so badly.
I'm tired of this, tired of this feeling, tired of this disease, tired of the mind games that my addict brain plays on my sane-person brain. Tired of thinking I can have it all and trying to make sense out of something that will never make sense at all. Tired of questioning and tired of caring and tired of being alive if this is living. Please God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
Dear God, thank you for my sobriety today. It is a true miracle that I am not trying to find a way to get to those pills right now. Dear God, please help me.