u/Helpful_Spring8739

This shits easy, I don't even need my meds. I just work, go to meetings, and everything is hunky fucking dory at casa del sober living.

Disregard that house meeting where I demanded to find all my spices. That was an outlier. And I'm still missing over half of them. And my fucking tubberware. I'd be salty about it, but some bitch literally stole my fucking salt.

Also, we should ignore me threatening to kill my new roommate. That was basically a misunderstanding. He for some reason assumed that because I said I'd choke him to death with his TV if he didn't turn it off, that I'd actually fucking kill him.

The other roommate was honestly amused until I said shut the fuck up, I can't even remember your name.

In my defense, they're both new really. Only been here 3 or 4 days. I'm on the top floor of a sober living house, open floor plan, so we have no privacy. I'm not exaggerating when I say I can hear the other guys scratch their crusty buttholes.

One guy was trying to be jovial about it all. "We've all been to prison or jail! We're used to it!"

No, fuck you. I dealt with it because I couldn't just leave jail. We're in civilization now and I pay to be here. Behave like we're civilized, or I'll keep saying I'll fucking kill you.

I shouldn't bitch, I'm the one drinking in here. I mean, they're all fucked up as well. Yeah, wait, nevermind, I should bitch.

Fuck these turmeric and tubberware stealing cunts.

Anyways, how's your butthole folks?

Edit, ok I'm in the hospital because they caught me drinking. Like literally caught me when I tried to stand up. Whatever the fuck his name is is a great guy. And super muscular. We spent the entire trip to the hospital discussing the pros and cons of bodyweight workouts versus gyms and then I was just like, since we're almost there, let's

I'm just curious. I can't help myself, but it's so easy to pick out some of you little shits that haven't fucked behind Wendy's before you blacked out in their bathroom again. Yet? I don't recall what we were talking about.

Seems like I'm always better at bitching and drinking than I am at actually being happy. Hell, I'm learning that I can't really comprehend "functional" sober and I just feel numb and basically shut down. Don't know how to talk without a drink in my hand. 36 years old and I'm looking back and realizing most of my life I've spent waxing poetic, drunk. Always too much of a coward to try it sober.

Thankfully, I have a drink in hand currently. In the sober living house. Ain't that a bitch.

Bout a year ago was doing well, assistant manager to nothing, head cashier at what the fuck ever, in a hardware store. Staying with my grandma and my kid. Was off the streets again. Had a beautiful girlfriend. Was respected at my job. Wasn't happy. Never am when things are going well. Constantly fighting with my grandma over my drinking. Fighting with my gf because I'm a massive piece of shit who flirts with everyone. Things were somehow going better than expected though. My kid loved having me around, and I got to be around her instead of bouncing around tents, jails, rehabs, homeless shelters.

I had a little pearl of peace and I was intent on rubbing my grit against it. For better or worse.

So, of course, the worse came. My mom passes. After all the time I spent taking care of her, working my ass off, losing my mind between multiple jobs, gig work, moving her from hotel to hotel, wiping her disabled ass, remembering every day how much she hated me when I was disabled after my overdose. And trying not to hate her, but failing miserably. The more her health and mind failed, the more I learned how much she'd fucked over me, my brother, her own mom, and herself. We lost everything over her lies. I lost my jobs, we lost dogs we'd raised from puppies, I went into debt, but I recovered. After I ditched her. Then she had the audacity to die about a year later, when I was doing slightly better.

I spiraled. I didn't let it affect me for a few weeks, my family said they appreciated how stoic I was. I wasn't stoic, I was trying not to scream at her. I knew she'd die like this. But facing the reality that she died alone, I just wanted one last time to tell her I'm sorry and that it's ok. I wanted to lie to her. I just didn't want her to be alone. But, little bit too late.

I'm gonna condense everything, and not even finish, you'll be alright, I've disappointed before.

Went to rehab, funded by a ca, lost my job, lost my gf, lost my place to live. Lost the ability to see my daughter.

And then, well then, I made it worse. I'm now 642 miles away from home, after fucking over a couple of my oldest friends. I'm about 3/4s of the way through my course to become a peer support specialist, and working in a medical adjacent field. Living in a sober living house with 7 other men.

There's so many other little details, and huge events that I'm leaving out for a variety of reasons. Privacy of those involved is one excuse. Shame and embarrassment is another.

I can't decide if this is a cycle or not. I don't want it to be, because I honestly can't fathom the thought of losing everything all over again. I've done it too many times. But if not a cycle, then this must veer in one of two directions. Eventually it was always going to happen, nothing is forever unless you're waiting in line at 6 in the morning for that first bottle.

Nah, I'm just wondering if I can actually avoid myself and break the cycle on an upstroke. I doubt it. But I promise to have some fun along the way regardless.

Prost,

Dr_zevon, bootful_of_anvils, not a rum diary, mr bad example. And all those names I can't be fucked to recall. I appreciate yall letting me vent.