Sunday, April 6, 2014

Blogophilia 7.7 Slightly Past Tipsy

He sat at the corner cafe, at a table by the curb, slowly sipping a cup of steaming hot tea.  People chattered like birds all around him, sharing details of their lives and not caring who overheard.  In five minutes time, he knew that Pam was seeing Gary and that Jeff had broken his hand from punching a snack machine.  Oh and did you know that if you drink green tea it helps your liver detoxify?  He inwardly chuckled at that remark; his liver was probably beyond any help that green tea could give it; he would stick with his black tea, thank you very much.

The voices receeded into the background as he watched the people walking along the street, busy with their own problems and thoughts.  Did they feel as asleep as he did?  Did they go about their day looking at the world around them in wonder, confused about how they had gotten there?  He had been slightly past tipsy for the past 20 years it seemed, and now that he had been persuaded to put down the bottle....and everything else....he felt like a tourist in a foreign country.  Everything was familiar, yet different.  Time had passed him by, and he no longer recognized his life.  Or himself.

“A man who procrastinates in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.”  That was for sure.  He had hidden from the harsh realities of life and in the meantime, life had gone on....uncaring that he was stuck in time.  He couldn't reconcile the fact that getting sober wasn't going to let him live the last 20 years over again; he was going to have to move forward from this point in time.  Or stay put, and forever feel lost.  It was his choice.

He brooded as he stared at his tea; the clouds above were reflected on the surface.  What a fitting metaphor, he thought.....light fluffy clouds dancing on top of the depths of darkness.  Put a happy, sane face on for the world, while inside, the darkness threatened to consume him.  When he looked at himself in the mirror lately, he wondered who it was that stared back....he surely didn't recognize this middle aged person.  "But I'm going to have to get to know him," he whispered to himself.  "It's the only way."

He downed the rest of the tea and stood up.  He felt as if stepping out onto that sidewalk was a symbolic gesture of moving forward with this new, strange life.  Then he laughed at himself....he took life way too seriously.  Just go with it, he thought.  Remember, “Yesterday's weirdness is tomorrow's reason why.” 

Smiling, he stepped forward.

Copyright Steven Clark 2014

Posted for Blogophilia 7.7 topic:  slightly past tipsy
bonus point (2 pts, hard):  quote Hunter Thompson
bonus point (1 pt, easy): incorporate a snack machine

Bonus picture guesses:

get down, play that funky music white boy, crazy, twist and shout

topic guess:  Colleen Breuning
photo guess:  Sassysue King

Thursday, April 3, 2014


Forcing myself out of the haze that has settled over my mind is like forcing myself out of bed from a sound sleep after the alarm goes off.  I don't want to be awake.  I don't want to feel.  I don't want to move.  I just want to burrow back down into the comfort of the blankets and drift back to sleep.

Which is basically what I did every time I did drugs.....hide from the world in my cocoon of warmth and oblivion.

I haven't used; "haze" is not a metaphor for anything here except the haze of depression.  It weighs on me and makes me immobile in thought and action....breaking through the cloud seems too much effort to be worth it.  I read something today that says depression can actually lower your IQ.  That makes total sense, it's hard to gather my thoughts to even string a sentence together.  But everyone keeps telling me to get my thoughts out and stop isolating, so here I am.

I'm tired of trying to stay positive and hopeful all the time, and then feeling like a failure when I can't be.  So I tell myself to just "sit with the negativity" until it passes.....only it doesn't pass.  Then trying to control myself to not act impulsively on my urges wears me out.  I'm tired of the litany of thoughts that go round and round in a rut.  I'm tired of the platitudes well meaning friends tell me.  I'm tired of the god talk at meetings.  I don't know how much longer my sponsor is going to be willing to put up with me. I'm tired of people telling me "it only works if you work it" like I'm not trying hard enough.  This can't be the only way.

It's so easy to let myself fall into complacency and let my guard down, let old thoughts creep back in, old behaviors manifest.  Which is what has been happening the past several days.  It's exhausting keeping that guard up, and frankly I'm just fucking tired of doing it.  But that's me giving in.  I try to distract myself, but nothing I used to enjoy is enjoyable anymore.  I don't want to read, I don't want to write, I don't even want to watch TV.  The weather has been shitty so I can't get outside to walk, my car is unreliable so I can't go on the long drives I used to take.  I feel like I"m drowning in a pit of negativity and my first instinct is to pull away and remove myself from everyone and everything because who wants to be around that?  And if I'm honest, I don't really want to be around others telling me to "do this, try that."  I just fucking want to be left alone.  But, that's the disease and the depression talking.  I'm fully aware of this even as I stew.  And it just makes me even more down and determined to self destruct.  How fucking mature.  I just want it all to end.