I’ve been unable to write much lately. There are circumstances which have derailed me: laryngitis, hurricanes, snowstorms, power-outages, incoming fatherly visits, the noisy ingress of my mother into my attic – minor stuff like that. It’s hard to get the writing kettle boiling. It feels similar to getting my butt back in the seat of an AA meeting after a hiatus.
There is something else which has been troubling me terribly. During my bout of laryngitis, in which I had to use paper and pen to communicate, John says, “Hey, I have some cough syrup from the doc; maybe you should have some? Keep in mind though – it IS a narcotic.” Yes, I know that, dear. The nonchalance with which he uttered those magic words opened a door of nasty, nasty notions. I wasn’t even coughing.
So. I took a dose; three at a time actually. It really did nothing except make me want to vomit, and snooze. I won’t do it again. But now I feel a bit fraudulent about my interactions with other alcoholics. I know that going back to “Day One” would be incomparably more dangerous for me and devastating to my family than keeping calm and carrying on. So I am choosing to bear this alone. I HAVE admitted it to a trustworthy fellow who has mixed feelings, but will keep the info to himself and let me make my own decision without judgment.
I am developing a relationship with the spirit of the universe, and I believe that this spirit supports me if I am aligned with It.
I am going to get a step sponsor post haste. I need to live the program.