u/Taboo_Decimal

Something about today’s media kick started my sobriety again. If it wasn’t an alcoholic catgirl with service tremors or Spider-Man advertising his NA beer. But I’m that stupid cat seizing up and sweeting.

I’m ashamed that it’s this bad.
I thought cutting back on my own has possible but it’s a medical intervention…

Anyway, dropping this sack off my back. I have three weeks and it’s been insomniatic, sweaty hell. Pacing like a lion catching myself make excuses to take a sip.

This sucks but it’s crazy how a liquid has this hold..

The service grouped us all into barracks and platoons that we had no choice in the matter. Endured all manner of hardship and formed bonds from joint suffering. Now some years out I can’t stomach what some of the guys I served with have become.
Dead beat dads, rampant divorce, and the last isn’t bad but sad, chronic depression battle.

The last one is a case that I can understand. It’s hard to battle chemical imbalances and trauma.

Now when people ask if I still talk to the people I served with. No , they no longer exist. The restraints that the military had on them are gone and so are they. In a way I wish they would have stayed. Maybe the structure is what they needed. ..

I hate being able to be called at anytime.. I’d love to have a pager.
📟
Contemplating a less connected life.