Feels Like It Should Be More

65 days, wow. 65 days, but I’m already imagining what caving looks like. “I made it 65 days - willingly, happily. Clearly, I don’t have a problem. Let’s drink!”

Something’s wrong with that picture. Part of it is that I’m so excited by everything right now - I’m in a totally creative phase - but so resentful of all of the work I’m obligated to. I’m trying to be grateful that I have something to keep the lights on and that affords me to buy the things I want to carry out my creativitiy. But it’s not coming easy.

I am so amazingly proud of my 65 days without a drink and 73(?) without gambling. I really am. And part of me thinks it would be best if I never drink again. But the self-destructive side really wants to, to just chill out, to make all this go away, the things I don’t want to do or deal with.

Stay here. Say here and get another 25 days at least. Because you’re going to feel like crap if you don’t at least give yourself that much.