42 Days

Look at me! Look at what I did! 42 days sober, 50 days without a bet! Hot dog!

And, yet, got a reminder that it’s nothing. Nothing. In the best way, of course. Before I get to the positive, let me unload some junk first. I keep wanting to say tonight was the first time I went to a meeting and left feeling worse, but that’s not quite right. Close but not quite.

See, I went to the meeting out of guilt because I was pretty sure my sponsor was going to ream me out if I didn’t. I get there and saw some familiar faces, which is always nice.

I share my bit about my husband taking control of my finances, so proud of myself and expecting congratulations for sacrificing So Hard and Doing It Right, and what I get is feedback from some guy wearing socks with sandals that it’s not enough to just take away the money. That I’ll find a way to gamble if that’s what I really want.

Well, shit. I was pissed because I didn’t get the glitter parade I expected. And that made me mad, which made me resentful and I thought, “I’ll show THESE PEOPLE … because of THEM I feel worse than when I came in.”

Which … just no, Me. Thankfully, I was able to stay outside the pity party in my head long enough to listen to a different guy who previously had 38 years gamble free. In January, he relapsed, stole some money to gamble with and, at about 75 years old, is going to court next week to get sentenced. Well, shit, again.

So, did I like the one person’s delivery that I’m not doing enough? No.

Do I understand that I might not be doing enough? Yes.

So, I take it back. I didn’t feel worse after leaving the meeting. It just took me a few minutes to get out of my own way so I could feel better.