self-imposed suffering

“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” John Steinbeck

I have a problem. Well, lots of them. But the largest of all is the mental war I engage with myself, inflict upon myself. I am the enemy. My feelings, thoughts, themes, angst-ridden diatribes, depression, and uselessness need hardly any incentive to surface and begin the onslaught. I think, therefore I suffer. But that’s because of my disease, my affliction, my alcoholism. Drinking is only a symptom of my disease. Thus the “dry drunk” who avoids peace and serenity at all costs. Favoring resentment, cloudy skies and dark paths to nowhere. I honestly don’t know if there is a choice, but making my brain wake up from this nightmare assault takes lots of courage and lots of strength. Hardest thing ever to do is bring light into dark. I guess that’s why the creation story begins with it. Only a Higher Power could do this. I surrender to it. To Her will. Brain messages saying, “Do better, be more” and all the “nots” … Not good enough, not clean, not skinny, not pretty, not motherly, not rich, not balanced, not energetic, not enthusiastic, not fair, not available, just NOT.

From a place of rage is born these self-loathing thoughts, feelings, mantras…and I know profoundly they are not the truth of me. I know because I am sober. Because I am trying. I am doing the best I can and each moment is a reminder. even in my pain and heartache, to reach. Reach for the light. I acknowledge its presence within me.


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