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And after a few months... and with 4months sobriety... I find a dip in the road named Me.

Twisted and dangling at the end of a hope. Imagination driving wounds deeper. Creating a fantasy to be abandoned in with self victimization.

Twisted and dangling at the end of a hope. Wishing for a clear path through the wounds imagined deeper. Battling in worlds seen only by a minds eye of self victimization.

Twisted and dangling at the end of a hope. Looking for the next knife to twist in trusts wounds. Dooming the wars results with peace won in sacrifice of self.

Twisted and dangling at the end of a hope. Waiting to be told of an other who is splitting the bodies. Spitting my soul for a flaming roast of angst cooked well done.

Twisted and dangling at the end of a hope. Treasuring the wallowing in the mud of provisions for a future. Supporting without demands until the decisions are removed from me.

Twisted and dangling at the end of a hope. Ice picks readied to remove the wills before they are read. A piercing of dreams in sacrificial actions of worshipful self destruction.

Where is that corkscrew...

~Craig

yeah...  I want to alter my senses to numb myself unconscious and remove all awareness of my current reality. Problem is... I can't crawl into a bottle anymore. So...  instead... I write.

Damn the corkscrews. I'm tired of being f'd....

whew.

[random68mailcom]

My last job Saturday night

7:30 on site with flooded pump chamber on riser. Begin diagnosis of pump power. Pump does not respond to direct wireing. Customer is out of service, probable cause clogged inlet baffle. Recommend exposing septic tank and pumping entire system for relief until electrician can replace pump and/or rewire system. 8pm Diagnosis complete, call in for septic tank location done, beginning of hole #1. 9pm Check in to notify dispatch hole #1 is completed and it was a 2nd chamber. Pumped and cleaned 2nd chamber. Begin digging for 1st chamber lid after moving pile of dirt from hole #1. oh....that tank is 30+in deep in the Rochester soil which is Spanaway quality. Rocks from the size of baseballs to the size of watermelons in the soil. 10pm Still digging to locate 2nd lid, tank is not a normal configuration, 6in round inlet and outlet lids, 6in round crossover lid. 24in lids on chambers 1 and 2. I found them all. Located 1st chamber lid next to inlet lid opposite corner from the 2nd chamber lid. Yes, we dug the entire length of the tank. Pumped 1st chamber and backwashed, customer still not in service. 10:30pm Begin pumping of p/c for relief and warranty if we are going to replace pump. p/c is small rectangle max of 400gl. Continue digging for inlet baffle to clear mainline and get customer back in service. 11pm Using garden hose in mainline, lots of powder laundry detergent residue and some grease build up coming out of pipe. Backwash pump chamber to clean sludge, garden hose used to clean pump chamber for warranty. 11:30pm finally break through plug in mainline, strong flow. Had customer flush toilets to confirm a clear line. Put away tools and hoses and begin billing. 12:10am leave location after explaining billing. Deductions given to customer because he was in the holes digging at least as much as I was, if not more. My time would have been doubled if I was digging this alone. 1:10am back in the yard and leaving a note on the steering wheel about the fluid being left on the truck because I'm 14.5 hrs into my day. 1:50am....whew back home finally.... 7am.... I'm awake. Dammmmmit. I only hurt a 'lil. I have pills for that. Well... may as well get up and start another day. Good Morning World!

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Recharge

On the way home... After a full days work... I hear THAT voice... The one that belongs to the jerk.

It says,"Wouldn't a drink be nice?" "Alter your perceptions of whats around with the nice soft blur of a spinning top?" "Never mind what the day brought... What sobriety has given... Lets get a buzz on, we've got a life to go live-in... Come with and take that lil' hop."

The other shoulders dweller... has different works fer this lil' feller... "Take a hike you lil' so and so... What you are preachin'... is a destruction, dontcha know... Think about what yer offerin'... that happy lil' sin... Then think about where it will take him."

The good I wear, continues to speak... "Without him we cease... Without him we have no peace... If he is gone in a bottle... again... There will not be another chance... No more dance to dance... If you want to exist.. even in a volume carrying heartbeat of passion unexpressed Quit fucking with his mind... Instead, encourage his best."

The jerk looks petulantly around. Needing points to score without a sound. Not wanting to give up his power and passion Until the last moment when he can storm the bastion And be repulsed by the defenders within... He has a job too... You know the one of temptation that leads to strength... or deafness.... from sitting too close to the volume of the heartbeat... No excuses given.

I bow my head I think and dream of the something better I want I pick these little beings from my shoulders I place them in my shopping cart I practice my art I move on and drown in the volume of the heartbeat Until the time to play recedes And the time to recharge calls

Another day is coming.

~Craig

Keepin' it 'smober and sober

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New Beginnings

Narrow spaces, chilled by easterly water bearing wind, covering the thinker in a blanket of memories that he would much rather just ignore.

Just forget.

Just erase.

 Red streams flow down the center of the narrow spaces. If you let your eyes seek their source, you can follow the dark colors of black reflecting on black flat to the corner of the threshold it escapes from. Covering the thinker in a blanket of memories that he would much rather just ignore.

Just forget.

Just erase.

 Curiosity can open doors without a key for the lock or a hand for the latch. Darkness and a dry musty chill flow from the door flavored with a hint of iron, a taste of the blood that pools at the threshold before it escapes. To cover the thinker in a blanket of memories that he would much rather just ignore.

Just forget.

Just erase.

 ‘Click’ and no light answers the call of the switch. ‘Flick’ and a lighter’s fire starts to dance with shadows on the walls of the entry way to a narrow space mansion. Opulent floors of wood and granite, reflections of mica, quartz and wax lead into the entertainment space where silence reigns amongst the chairs set in rows before a curtained wall with letters arranged in the center, above the curtains, efiL yM. To reveal the thinker in a blanket of memories that he would much rather just ignore.

Just forget.

Just erase.

 Slumping seated forms seem to move in the flicker of the flame. Each appears to be made of rumpled clothes on wax forms, cold, lifeless, dripping. Participants in a show that could never be shared, silenced because the sound of their breathing was too much and too to little. The memories of the thinker, the man in the narrow space, chilled by easterly water bearing wind and tasting the iron of the blood he stands in are still things he would rather just ignore.

Just forget.

Just erase.

 Pulling a hand from his inside jacket pocket, he unfolds the paper and his lips begin to silently move as if reading though his eyes do not focus in the dark of the single flame from a lighter. His teeth flash from a twitch of a smile and his eyes focus on the curtain, willing it to open again and again and again. The chilled easterly water bearing wind walks through the room, teasing the hair of a woman here, the collar of a child there, a drip of the red made to fall and the curtain rustles in its touch, threatening the thinker with the memories he would rather just ignore.

Just forget.

Just erase.

 His hand barely shakes as it pulls the curtains aside, avoiding the edges with lighter, not ready to erase… Yet.

 In the dim light the colors are subdued and the lines are blurred, like the memories he doesn’t need to see reflected on a wall in a room tasting of...  iron. Choices are illustrated. Each choice chained to its results. Each result with a link to its consequence, good or bad, worn around the skeleton of a figure standing in the middle of its web, looking as if its controlling everything around it and still looking trapped, in a web of its own making. Memories that are unable to be ignored, forgotten or erased.

 One hand is raised up with a finger scarred by its life of labor pointing into the room that was once set aside for entertaining and is now a penance. The man looks into the face pictured above the accusing hand with its guilty finger and wonders at the peace he imagines in its bony structure. Spaces for eyes that have seen too much and not reacted, emptiness abdicating the responsibilities of the lives held near it by the chains of actions not made and choices ignored and forgotten and erased.

 In his heart he knows the pain of thousands as they die to the results of their escape from choice. Each refracted in a broken hand mirror set on a table strewn with crumpled paper, empty bottles, cigar stubs, dusty food, caffeine, unused needles and webs tying it all together, sewing a tapestry of efiL yM. His eyes fade and fall from this picture to the broken space around him turning him to look at the faces of the clothed, wax figures dripping their contributions to the pool at the threshold and the stream in the narrow space with its chilled water bearing wind. Each face wears a different expression of understanding behind its glasses or makeup or facial hair.

 They know. That is why they couldn’t leave. It is why they were stopped and stayed and made to contribute their bits and pieces to the flow. Each chair and  each form are linked by a thin silver that flows in the breeze and returns to the guilt making finger on the hand that is scarred by life.

 It is not a family killed in compassion. It is not a mass murder. It is a suicide of the soul over and over and over again. Each time the remainder getting smaller with its own needs unmet in this entertainment space inside the man’s head, in the room he has created and filled with mustiness tinted red and flavored of blood.

 This man. The one who is seated in every chair in this room. The one who is a skeleton in the center of center of a web of lies and dreams, hopes and deceits, pain and escape. This man, steps back through the rows of chairs and when he reaches the open door steps over the threshold into the stream of red and down the narrow space towards the end. His hand opens, the lighter falls into the stream and flame races the chill easterly water bearing wind back into the door and entryway and entertainment space of efiL yM and begins to melt the clothes from the flesh of the figures in the chairs, consuming the flesh to outline their choices in the skeletons left behind as the wood and granite of the floor heave to the heat of a cleansing flame.

 Gazing in the direction of the wind a gray is seen on a horizon that was never there before. Maybe it will be a new dawn as the man chooses not to ignore or forget or erase and instead incorporate these lessons brought on by efiL siH and move forward a wiser person who can now enjoy the people around him as the individuals they are and not the people he imagined them to be.

 New beginnings.

[random68mailcom]

Open the laptop... glance at the clock... 1202. Click the Quitnet tab... Arrow over 'Encourage Someone' and <click> The anchor? Wow...

I've been rather silent the last few days. Work has me flipping days for nights and vice-a-versa. When I ain't rested I'm rather insane. When I'm insane I know to be careful in my life and in my quit. I've been cautiously working too long, too late, too often and still have my 'smobriety and sobriety.

How does it happen? It is a choice. It is the same choice over and over again. It is the choice for the alternative response to a craving. It is the choice to redesign and rebuild a life.

What am I talking about?

I've been doing Intensive Outpatient Treatment for my alcoholism. The program has me doing three meetings a week, each on three hours long. In these meetings I get to associate with other addicts and alcoholics, drunk drivers and parents who have lost their kids, broken people being subject to a spiteful judicial system and the few self-referrals, like myself, who are not being required by the courts to experience this recovery opportunity.

The people I share my addictive with have done all the drugs, drank all the alcohols, lived and damn near died all of life's problems and they are still here.

Some of them are making a choice to be real. Some want answers different than the numbing or silencing of the voices that addictions make happen. Some are celebrating their choices in days clean or months sober. Some are fighting for the right to walk without a 'bracelet' that would report if they were even close to alcohol. Some are paying more to be sober than were to be drunk or using. Some show up to get their name on a piece of paper that will be put before a judge, and that is it. Some show up to 'self-report' that they just did another hit of heroin and are now going be sent to prison for a felony violation... hard time for a high to treat life-problems.

And I quit drinking. And I quit smoking. And I voluntarily asked to pay them for the opportunity to learn a different answer to my life's problems.

Each of these people in my groups get to make the same choice I am making. They get to make that choice every time they have an urge in response to stress or hunger or anger or loneliness or exhaustion or anger or... The choices in these groups are life changing. They result in the reunification of a family or the loss of the kids forever; The freedom of self-will and employment and food and life under gray/blue skies or walls, bars, fences, monitoring and commands of the prison/jail system. These people are deciding who they want to be right now. We are all sharing in a supportive and educational atmosphere as we strive to better ourselves.

Just like quitting smoking is a decision you are making right now. Its a choice. Its a moment. It doesn't involve jail or prison or loss of a family or more probation or loss of a license. It does involve bettering yourself, improving your health and saving your life.

The hope I see in the newby first-timer coming to a meeting is almost always buried in the pain of the reasons they are there. They have the reality that they are being forced to deal with and live in right now. Most speak their truths, their stories, without hesitation. They have had the results of their choices made clear to them by the police, jail time, indifferent defense lawyers, zealous prosecutors and judges that are over that next death on a highway caused by a drunk driver. The repercussions of their choices are revealed in later meetings as time goes on. And we all have the fallout from the bombs we set off in our lives. That stage-four lung cancer found in my cousin who has been quit of smoking for ten years with its fallout of death and/or prolonged pain and then death.

Is it still a choice?

One woman, younger than I, has been in the program for a few months and sober/off drugs for a total of four months.She has dumped all the old friends and locations that led to using. She has removed the boyfriend that damnear killed her. She has a life and a zest brought on by the horizons her choices are opening for her. She sparkles. Even without the makeup, jewelry or hair, she would shine. That is what I want, instead of a divorce brought on by alcohol and addictive behaviors. I want that zest. I don't want to die.

Is it a choice?

If that next cigarette were guaranteed to kill you, would you smoke it?

If that next drink or use of your drugs was guaranteed to make the courts take your kids away... remove your freedoms,,, take your license and hamper your ability to earn a living... would you take it?

It is a choice and at some point it will change to a fact that isn't a choice. You can choose and waffle through practice quits. You can choose and educate yourself in what to expect in quitting nicotine by reading the quitnet blog posts about it. You can choose 'cold-turkey' or assisted quits. And, you can choose that next coffin nail.

For me? After days of insanity brought on by exhaustion? I claim sanity. And I know that I No Longer Have A Choice.

You can say the same thing. You are allowed to remove the choice of smoking from your life. Put the choice to smoke into the life or death perspective and let that soak in... How do you want to die? Cancer? Not being able to breath? Remove the choice and claim your Quit, for now and now and now and always.

Life has a funny way of making us live in it. Maybe we should be living it well.

~Craig Keepin' it Sober and 'Smober

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Whiteknuckling~

The end of the day. Done working. Out of wet socks and soaking boots.  Meetings are completed for this work week. And I respond to a post-er who is sharing their suggestions and ideas with me... of ways to remain sober and/or establish connections beyond work and family. This is the crave and its results. It can apply to smoking or alcohol.It can fit any addiction. Tonight mine would be the bottle... before it would have been a cigar. Please feel free to insert your smoking preferences where ever I talk about drinking. It all applies. My response and whining follows.... My work is my exercise. My gym membership is to remove the pain I used alcohol to numb before. My social groups are currently the AA meetings I attend on my days off. And... Tonight I finished my last IOP group meeting stuff for the week. yay... kinda.But I tell ya, I had way to much coffee. I felt like I was being judged and not matching or meeting their expectations.  So... now I sit at home at write to distract the junkie that wants a drink to make me go to sleep and forget this recovery bullshite. I am so...   And...  If I am going to keep being honest in here I can not drink. Tonight appears to be a white knuckle time.  And a chance to reprogram my brain onto different pathways. Driving home... over the speed limit as usual, I didn't quite want to run into the walls. But I did have some thoughts about a topic I am needing to bring up in all the next meetings I attend. As A Drunk Do You Have Hope?  As a recovering drunk do you have hope? As an alcoholic can you afford to have hope?  What does it look like for you? Me? I can't have hope yet. I cannot use that word to describe what I want in my relationship with my wife. I have no control over her choice and her actions and thus I canNOT hope that we will explore a new path and maybe rebuild our relationship. Instead I term my wishes, my reasons, my choices, my actions as my desires, my dedications my needs  for my future. But... I so want to have hope. Not just a longing for or a lust. And then the excuse to drink speaks up... that one on the shoulder that says, "yup you are schmuck you deserved this by flaunting your use and ignoring her so this is where you belong, go and drink. It is all that you are worth". The task given at the end of my IOP meeting tonight was to generate some positive self messages. hah. Not tonight. not yet. There, honesty. No hope, yet. Maybe next week I can give myself permission to be a little positive... for right now it appears I have not beat myself up enough and that I need a new flog to apply... processing in front of you,~Craig Yep... 'smober and sober and sane... when I ain't all the way crazy.

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Unknowns surround Dreams on hold Worth questioned When affection slips into emptiness Spirits begin dying Desire and anger at war Reality scarred in rivers red banks Destruction guaranteed ....maybe.

~Craig

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Self Stimulation

I want an impact A break through that wall Damn the pain Damn the damage A journey into the light Has to be better than... ...this existence Stereo deafening Bass in the bones Engines redlined Transmissions screaming Through the gears while... Gauges climb and descend Corners too fast Tires straining to hold Brakes glowing hot As I turn the wheel again ...Missed that wall But here comes another Will I turn too late? Will I suffer? No knowing ... Until I get there Faster, harder, louder An impact is what I want Skills aside Eyes open wide Saving your life In a moment of pride With a grandiose slide Around that next corner of life Missed again. Noone else off the road driven Weave the lanes Shaping the brains Until the fall From the wall That I missed again I want an impact.

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The Spin is In

20 days sober today. Im in an IOP (intensive outpatient program) at the VA, but it is pretty much self guided pablum. Instead I found another organization with a much more rigorous IOP and will spend my money on it to learn a new way of thinking and sobriety. Doing AA meetings on my weekends, Staying busy or exhausted and using motrin as my painkiller instead of vodka. Trying to find methods of self care...and feeling like I'm not doing enough yet. Cold Turkey here too, but no withdrawal or delerium tremors. It was either quit or lose my family life. Thanks for asking...

[random68mailcom]

My quit? How is my quit today? My quit is solid. It is my life that is shaky.

For some reason or another, us humans do not like change. Most of seem to like the same thing day in day out. Get up, have a coffee, go to work, come home, have a dinner and a relationship for a few hours, go to bed and start it over the next day. It is always comfortable to not have to change or grow or be afraid of that next step or not know what your day is going to have in store for you.

On the other hand there are some few, and yes I will call them lucky, souls who thrive on change, wanting that difference, the stimulation of the challenge, the fight for survival.

I'm trying to find a balance where my fear of change is open to the appreciation of the work I need to do to accomplish a change and accept that life changes whether I want it to or not.

Quitting is a big change. The reasons for quitting are big changers. Maybe that is a key. What are the causations for life's changes? And how are they motivating the changes? Is it physical pain? Ill Health? Absence of love? Desire for good breath? Boredom?

Quitting anything is about changing how you act and react habitually, mentally and physically. Having reasons to quit help. But still it all comes down to getting over that inertia of 'comfort' and starting to work on changes.

My quit is solid. My life is shaky. I'm changing my life and taking care of myself, to value myself just as much as I take care of my quit and value my quit. And it is a scary place to be in...when you don't know what tomorrow may bring and you are changing anyways.

Changing, 'smober and sober, ~Craig

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Paths

Quitting smoking is a step on a path... How you walk that path is up to you. What you see on your path, how hard you have to work, which choices get made, when it ends... is all self-determined.

My path continues to be my quit and views of my quit get better with every days journey. Recently my path came to a fork where I could choose a difficult climb to a new height or remain where I was and be separated from the other paths parallel to mine. I chose to remain in sight of parallels and hope to cross those paths in the future.

Now... for the writing that spurred that thought. And if ya ain't ready for deep thinking... Just scroll on by...

The scene is a meadow crossed by paths. Each one a promising journey with room for only one person at a time. All lead to the same place and each one is unique with its own views, trials, challenges, battles, tests and temptations. No path is totally isolated from any other path, they all cross further along the journey in the world.

The advertisement reads, “This is your chance to be your own person! Explore and grow! Join us in this reality we share with each other in every way. Step out…. Here. Make your choice for your path for today!*” The advertisement leaves many readers puzzled, they think they are their own beings already. Stuck in the rut of cubicle or as a dishwasher or making another pass with a broom or taking charge of all the little details that entrepreneurship demands, stuck in the limitations of a horizon they cannot see beyond.

*Fine print at the bottom of the advertisement has a disclaimer, “Not responsible for any pain, injuries, heartbreak, abuse, addictions and/or loss of love.” Many don’t see the fine print. Most don’t see the advertisement. Everyone walks on one the paths. Each person thinking they have the free will to choose their lives intertwined with others or hermited in uniqueness and pride when the reality is only a crossing paths in a meadow, on a mountain, in a desert, lost at lands edge because the paths enter the oblivion of water and emerge elsewhere as a challenge for the few who cannot turn back.

These paths are where he walks. A stride measured in the pain of a personal history, limps and short steps giving way to confident motivations when a goal is sighted, sought and attained with its own new views and vistas, a reward for the energy expended and pain ignored until He stops. And the next step is a limp again, a grimace crosses his face after the beauty is cataloged in memories stores, brought on by the knee or the hip, the back or the neck, shortening his pace from furloughs to feet. Yet he walks on, looking for the next crossing of the paths and hoping to see that one special person…again.

She took a different route, needing to discover a voice of her own and shout from the mountain top. The pain she knows isn’t the body’s aches, instead, it’s the hearts ache of decisions made, daily disappointments, trusts broken, words fail to express the depths to which the knives of life and love have filleted her soul. Yet she walks her path and chooses her views with the hope of impacting and influencing others who walk the paths she has walked, the paths she walks again and again and again, until she can see the crossing when she reaches it and steps a new way, leaving one type of pain behind with the knowledge of rewards being made real if she keeps walking on her path.

Together they walk in parallel lives, linking in moments of politeness and strictly business protocols of necessities for a partnership to succeed. Individual paths linked tenuously by decades of history.

Paths of choice and lack of choice leading to a horizon no one can see yet… and still we walk on these paths letting the winds blow us around or standing tall and bracing ourselves for the next step towards what we want.

~Craig Troubadour of the 40+ Club (old quitnet) Knight of the Quitrealm Elder in the barcolounger Ex-mayor of quitsville Journier of the paths of the quit and of life.

[random68mailcom]

It's a flash in the pan A spark burnt out in a moments glance It's the dream of the ultimate post Forgotten in scrolls A paperless world's curse

Immediate gratification... Maybe... If someone notices, If someone responds, If the button is actually pressed.

And if the words have a power of their own They may linger longer and be repeated in time Bookmarked for future review and re-casts into the ponds of recovery. And if the writer is skilled, entertaining, honest, in pain... Followers may accumulate A hoard of zephyrs with a smile in their breeze.

This is my post today. My poet escaped again. Keepin' my quit at too to early in the morning, Cause' the Alarm Clock interrupted that last dream.

'Smober and Sober, ~Craig

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Care

Yesterday was a start from the heck I am in. I have no idea where this path is leading. I know my own goal on this journey is a new 'normal/sanity'.

In my lists of things done and done... were the appointments and meetings attended, updating my sister as to where the wife and I are at in our separation stuff, and listening to my sisters council.

"The biggest thing", she said "Is to take care of yourself."

No, she does not mean eat all the chocolate in the world, or muffins, or brownies, or steak-tar-tar. This is that mental health thing that is so fuzzy to most of us.

"What do you mean, take care of myself mentally? How do I do that?"

Quitting smoking or drinking or any other of the long list of addictions we have in life all comes down to your will, my will, the conscious choices we make in the moments we live. The choices do involve how we care for our bodies and our brains, you know, the fleshy 'box' we occupy on earth.

How do care for your body? Pay attention to it. When it is hungry feed it, but not too much. When it thirsty provide liquid, preferably water. When it is tired, let it rest. Naps are okay (just not while driving). You know how to keep your body clean, presentable, making it feel good and smell good. Give it the exercise it needs and wants in order to maintain itself. Your body is your best friend, treat it like you want to keep it around for awhile.

Taking care of your brain? That is a bit more blurry and it is where I have to google a site for ideas because this is my weak place. My basics are the positive self messages, doing things that are enjoyable like reading my overflowing stash of books or working on home improvement projects or just dreaming. This web site has some pretty awesome ideas as well, like goofing around for a bit or cloud watching (tho on the gray days in Seattle...its all the same). http://tinybuddha.com/…/45-simple-self-care-practices-for-…/

It doesn't matter how you do it. It just matters that you do. IT.

In the midst of my crazy, I am going to make time and space for my sane to return.

How does it all apply to your desire to quit smoking?

Does quitting make you crazy? What are you doing about changing what you do when you are crazily craving? How about a thought or two towards your own self care? Generating a new image of who you want to be? Appreciating the you that no longer smells of stale cigarettes? Being able to go for a drive and see the sights in a car that smells of.... new car smells!

Quitting is about caring. Making the 'Care' a priority is our new challenge. We can not treat quitting as an incidental thing we expect to just happen on its own. Instead it has to be thought through and learned in a new self-care ritual, just like you learned how to feed yourself, dress yourself, clean yourself, and get paid for what you do when you do it!

Make the time for you, and your quit will become better understood. The more we understand our quits, the easier they are to live.

Living my quit today, 'smober. ~Craig

PS Thanks Sis... I needed the kick in the pants to think this through.

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Reverberations shaking worlds Not just this one Impacts on family and friends Reshaping dreams in apologies Echoes screamed by souls in pain

as we draw apart as we drift anew seeking a different current in the failing breathes of the morning dew

~Craig ...is unapologetic for writing such as this as he reorganizes his empty bedroom gifted by the wifes necessity for space.

Quitting sucks. Sobriety sucks. Hurting others sucks. Hurting myself sucks. Just one big suck.... and it could all be done. Except, I'm human and I have an innate wish to better myself and those around me when I realize how messed up I can be.

I keep it 'smober and sober with the help of friends and family. Thanks for being a friend for me.

[random68mailcom]

2/25/17

 And the price continues to rise. For a drink or bottle a divorce and a separation… Kicking the son out of his room and making him sleep in the dining area (no privacy), moving into his space, emptying her possessions out of our space, leaving behind her ring… Makes it all too real.

 My reaction is puzzling. She does this for her health in separating herself from me. Yet we are financially tied to one another and a separation at this time would be ruinous for both of us. So… are we to have only a business relationship? Do we need to go buy a new house? One with 5 bedrooms?

 My reaction is puzzling. I recognize that she ‘says’ she is doing this for her health and yet I am feeling attacked. Her actions and choices are not to motivate a recovery in me is her claim and I can be nothing but motivated. If not a motivational tool then what is the use in making an effort?

 Do I need to follow suit and imitate the goddess in her? Place my own wellbeing on a pedestal and to hell with the hindmost? It smells of narcissism to me. If I were to idealize my own health in self-centered and selfish way, would that not insult as well? Or would it be looked for as a healthier life partner?

 I grew up trained to please those around me and seeking approval in the process. It is still a core part of my being. I modify the actions in that core to measuring myself against impossible self-standards that I can usually meet. However the original thoughts of seeking approval still permeate my actions regarding my recovery and my hopes that I may be able to rebuild a relationship.

 My reaction is puzzling. Because I fear the financial hardships and the impacts on any sort of a future life for me, up to and including retirement, I do not want to lose this lady, who I am almost calling a royal bitch right now.

 So for me? The choice is to admit my insane behaviors to myself and acknowledge that I must be an addict belittling the impact of that ‘buzz’ on my life. The choice is find a recovery program to help me continue acknowledge my insanity and provide me with tools to manage those behaviors in the future. I quit smoking cold turkey out of pain and fear. Maybe quitting drinking alcohol has the same motivations, cold turkey out of pain and fear. Different pain and different fear, but similar enough otherwise.

 The thinking and rebuilding of me is begun. Time to sleep.

[random68mailcom]

At the end of the day... My mind wanders... Successes are forgotten and longed for... Patience is exhausted... And words are the victims.

Excuse my writings... Excuse my desires... for mere 'smobriety and mere expressions... for success, for joy, for love, for professionalism, for the chance to be more than I am... for today... It Is A Chance.

The minor aches in remission... the minor remissions in a spin... spinning skewed with precession... until the vertical becomes horizontal... and the horizontal turns black...

Eyes closed. Passions fade... Until sleep consumes...

Or... the ultimate absence becomes a presence.

Give me this... Give me the attentions... Give me what I do not know I want... Give it all... And I may... I may not... Assume the horizontal... The sleeping... The fading into absence.

It is all just an excuse.

As I pace the hallways of my mind.

Barely avoiding the sharp corners.

A point that may severe the reality from the dream.

The minor aches in remission... the minor remissions in a spin... precession... passion... fading... black of sleep...

Anyone?

~Craig

What are your chances of keeping your quit?

What will it take?

Why not make this one the last one????

Dammmmmm...it... the very last one?????

Yeah...you are worth it.

An...the artist is faded... the black is accepted.... the passion is exhausted. Eyes close.

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The minor aches in remission... the minor remissions in a spin... spinning skewed with precession... until the vertical becomes horizontal... and the horizontal turns black...

Eyes closed. Passions fade... Until sleep consumes... Or... the ultimate absence becomes a presence.

Give me this... Give me the attentions... Give me what I do not know I want... Give it all... And I may... I may not... Assume the horizontal... The sleeping... The fading into absence.

It is all just an excuse. As I pace the hallways of my mind. Barely avoiding the sharp corners. A point that may severe the reality from the dream.

The minor aches in remission... the minor remissions in a spin... precession... passion...

fading...

black of sleep...

Anyone?

~Craig