I spent so much time in pain when I was drinking that it became a state of mind for me. I expected it. I didn't know what to do when the pain wasn't around, so I did my best to generate more of it. I was quite good at it. I subjected myself to a lot of pain.
I think that while there is a lot of truth to the idea that we grow by surviving difficulties, I have managed to warp this concept out of all recognizable shape with my demented and twisted mind. For instance, it is possible to learn something without all of the pain. It is possible to live easily and not feel guilty about it. When things go well, when a plan set in motion moves forward, doors opening smoothly, one by one, all in good time, I don't always know what to do. I start cringing a bit, waiting for The Nasty Surprise.
I've packed my dictionary. I don't know where it is.
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