The Foreboding

Terrible:  Dreadful; causing alarm and fear.

Things are going so well that I'm certain that something terrible is going to happen.  I feel guilty when I'm getting my way, when my life is pleasant.  I still hang onto the idea of a pissed, vengeful, bullying god, bouncing thunderbolts of pain and misery off my bloody brow.  Where the hell did I get the idea that god wants me to suffer?  I think that god wants me to quit wailing like I'm being tortured every time the slightest difficulty comes my way.  I think god is all: "C'mon, already.  Would you quit your bitching for like 5 minutes and give me some peace and quiet?"  But I cling to the idea that god is gleefully trying to stick it to me.

I saw a red Ferrari with new tags parked in a handicapped spot yesterday.  It was legal - it displayed a handicapped placard - but still . . . 

The meeting this morning was a Birthday Cake meeting.  This is not a tradition that was followed in the other places I've lived in sobriety so I had forgotten about this.

"Oh, that's why you showed up today," one of my new friends whispered to me.  Yeah.  I showed up because I'm a psychopath, not because I want a piece of cake and some attention; both appreciated by the way.  He was mostly joking, I hope, but I can surely forgive his cynicism, should any exist, given my predilection to seek the limelight for the flimsiest of reasons.

Another Birthday Boy said this: "We're not showing off here - we do this to show new people that it can be done."  That mostly applies to me although I generally need two chairs - one for me and one for my ego.

Part of the point is that it's now fun to share my good fortune with my friends.  I find that I'm genuinely happy when good things happen to them.  I used to hate it, preferring to revel in misfortune of others.