It's not such a bad life being in recovery. I didn't think that way when I first came in. I really loved to drink and take drugs, conveniently blocking out the devastation the stuff was causing in my life and the fact that drinking didn't work any more, causing more problems than it solved. I was hopelessly lost in the happy, delusional fantasy world of Euphoric Recall, that lovely time when alcohol scratched my itch. Apparently the Hole of Emptiness that I had to fill kept getting bigger and bigger. It sure got impossible to fill. At the end it was quite a large hole.
I was terrified of losing the only thing in my life that meant anything to me - the focus of all of my fun -- and replacing it with something of dubious value -- not drinking at all. It didn't appear to be much of a trade. I didn't see too much to look forward to. I didn't see what I was going to get in return. Peace of mind seemed to be a crappy trade off for tons of excitement.
Then I strolled into a meeting, looked at the people in the room, and thought: "Holy shit, I'm in some serious trouble." Things didn't look too promising to me. Little did I know.
My friend Farmer Bill once said: "I know that I'm loved. I can't even tell you what I mean by that but I know that I'm loved." What a mish-mash of mismatched people crammed together on hard folding chairs in old church basements. I never thought I would look forward to seeing these people
The good news is that there's a solution. The bad news is that it's us.
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