I need a Gold Star. Damn it.

It is suggested that I journal about my “feelings”. It is suggested that I don’t pick up a drink. It is suggested that I keep God in my pocket. Right about now I think I really want to take all the suggestions and throw them out the window.

On Ike Man’s birthday I got a call about an hour in to the party. My Unkie Moe had passed away. A half an hour from that I found myself at a meeting. My mind was spinning. How was I going to deal with a death in the family without a substance? What a horrible mother I am.. to leave my own creatures birthday party so I could stay sober that night. A test you might say. Hippie, how much do you want this? How much do you want to be sober?

4 days later, I was in Texas with my parents, who I consider alcoholics. Staying in the same hotel room with them and continue on to grieve with family that I haven’t seen in over 12+ years. What a uncomfortable experience for me. To be around alcohol every day and to be the designated driver for my own parents in the evening. I got to chat with my cousins who I barely knew and I couldn’t do it with a drink in my hand. Me and my social retardedness. I had to learn to sit and be still and let life happen and just be. They say One Day at a Time. I learned 1 minute at a time. I prayed all day long. I dropped to my knees every morning and I got through it. I taught myself to live in the present.

I returned home with all sorts of praise from friends, my sponsor. I did it.  I passed Gods test and I was proud of myself. Two hours later, my alcoholic brain started in. Everyone is so freaking proud of you. They think your sooo strong. Lets show them. Lets get smashed. Go back out. We can show them how you really are. Show them the real you. They should be super proud then. This sick voice. Is the voice that I have to deal with everyday. This voice tells me that I need a freaking reward for those 4 days. I want a gold star, a trophy, something. Damn it. I am so freaking special that I need a reward to live life.

I know if I stay in this place I will go back out. To tell you the truth I am tired of working the program. I just want to be left alone. I don’t feel like praying. I don’t feel like talking to someone on my list. I don’t wanna. I am overwhelmed with life right now and I truly want to be left alone. I want my escape. Just for a couple hours. That leaves me here…my Inner Hippie, my God is screaming at me to journal, so I will. As much as I bitch about the program right now,  I don’t want to go back to that lonely place I once was. I hit meetings not because I want to but because drunks have told me too. I talk because my sponsor is showing up and bitching at me to talk to get this crap out of my head. I wish I didn’t have to grow up again as an adult but I am blessed for the people around me telling me that they are proud of me. CAUSE I NEED A GOLD STAR, DAMNIT.


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