Healing Through Writing: Day 1-Take 3.

Today’s been a fairly blah, though relaxing day and I think I figured out the missing element that I am needing to overcome this cancerous plague of doom: my higher power and in heavier doses. I put myself here but only God can rescue me from it. Not a good choice of words because my God doesn’t simply reach out his hand, pull me to higher ground and all is well. Addiction? Putting other things before him? Shame? Fear? Self-loathing? He defeated all of these sins at the cross two thousand years ago so I shouldn’t have to, yet here I am, in the thick of it, like some lost sheep out on his own.

I am not given a hand but what I am provided with are the necessary tools and the faith in the one that beat all this crap already, and that is how I dig my way out. More time in the Bible. More time in prayer. More time mentally sending it back from whence it came. Speaking truth in its face, to the enemy and life destroyer that it is.


Back at the lake and it is hot, folks. Sunning it up before I take a cool dip. And thinking. Feeling weak and not in I want a drink sense but just in I don’t know if I can do this. It’s honestly exhausting, all the anticipation and planning and hoping and..ugh. I feel like I want a vacation from that, which is stupid and now is the time to step it up, not bow completely out.


Just about to leave the lake. Feel like doing a bunch of baking tonight will not only be a delicious idea but will keep a guy busy. I’m talking about cinnamon buns. I’m talking about pizzas for tomorrow. I’m talking about cookies of some variation. I may even be talking about a cherry pie for all I know. Kapeesh? Sheesh.

730 pm

Commence le baking. Feeling strong.


One thing is clear: I’m never attempting pizza crust again. Everything else turned out great, minus the pie I chose not to make.

As I was baking, I became more and more agitated. Thoughts of “Oh, I’ll be done all this with more than enough time to drink” and then a shame, an anger and a disgust just washed over my being, as though some demonic prescence but not. I started cursing my ex-wife for bringing this level of dependancy into my life. I started thinking maybe I got back to AA (never liked it and it did nothing for me)? I became deeply ashamed about continuing this so called “success” documentary blog with either lying or being honest and giving up, which kills me.

And speaking of kills me, I would never entertain suicide but those fleeting thoughts of my life is absolute garbage, what else am I supposed to do?

I write this in tears. Tears of anger at the addiction and anger at myself for simply not being able to say no. I want to disappear. I need to be past all this shit but can’t!! I haven’t succumbed yet tonight but all I feel is weakness and the inability to stand my ground. Such a horrible feeling. What a loser.

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