I was desperate for a drink

It started this morning. I was desperate for a drink - no, more than that - I was desperate to be drunk, to be completely and utterly drunk.

Why? I'm sorry but I don't know the reasoning behind it, all I know is that it came over me with a fucking viciousness about it that had hurt in large quantities in it.

There was only one thing that I could do to cope with it and that was to head outside into the fresh air, into the sunlight and head down to the shore of the Atlantic. I sat on the beach and looked out to sea and dreamed, I thought things through and thought about my future.

I spent a lot of my time with nothing but fresh air going through my excuse for a brain but I did get to the other side, tired and worn out from something that I can't really explain. I just know what it was all about.

It was about an addiction that I suffer from, possibly always will do and I will not lose control of it again. I won't let it beat me again.

After all, why should I - why the fuck should I?

Drink-free!!!

No drink for about three weeks now and feeling pretty good about it too. No drink means no drunk so it's a double bonus. I'm going to carry on for as long as I can because I want to beat my longest time, thirteen months sober. We'll see what happens at the end of that, perhaps the choice to do another thirteen months. Now, that would be good, wouldn't it!!!

The Alcoholic

This is a poem called The Alcoholic. It was written by Elizabeth Johnson and it tells a lot of truth about the problems and the life that come with alcoholism. I hope that you can read it and think about the truths within it.

Every morning I wake up and must decide what to do.

Yes it’s early and I have to work, but a drink sure sounds good.

I make it through my job and hold out until I get home.

Then I pour myself a drink and I drink it all alone.

The cares of the day melt like ice within my glass.

I have not time to consider pain or bother with my past.

Eventually I am lonely and wish someone was around.

Drink until I pass out, black out, or fall down.

Sometimes I throw up just so I can drink a little longer.

If a little feels this good more has to feel even stronger.

Yet it never comes back, that initial feeling of ease.

Just eventually get sick and finally fall asleep.

Sounds pretty pathetic huh, why would anyone want this life?

Yet I wake up each day to a new high and create for myself more strife.

I’ve seen where it has led me in the past and swore never to go there again.

Yet as one complete circle back where I started I am .

I see why we are so hopeless what kind of life is this?

Will I ever know normalcy with these chemicals I ingest?

Guess I know the answer, The tools have been given to me before.

Just have to reach out and grab them and know there is no cure.

Yet still I struggle, fighting for breath in what seems a useless existence.

I drink more and more every day not able to stop or resist it.

47 hours I’ve gone in the last three months without a drink at all.

On hour 48 I began my continued and expected fall.

If I could just stop I would have a chance, maybe I could be free.

I laugh as I write these words--- finally free—me?

A slave I am and a slave I will remain—self fulfilling prophesy I know.

How can I make it through this --- where should I go?

AA, yeah, been there before – it worked for a while.

Yet every time I would run away just another case in a file.

Let them help you- go to meetings, get out of yourself.

Maybe I’m just selfish and beyond AA’s help.

Can’t they see that I don’t belong- not there, not anywhere?

Guess we all feel that way—but does anybody really care?

Afraid… I am so tired of that emotion in my life.

I would trade it in at any time- yet I’m sure it’s replaced with strife.

Self pity, whoa is me, I know I am there right now.

Don’t want to exist here forever- somebody show me how!

How to stop the struggle and just surrender to God

It should be easy, I know---- don’t fight it so hard.