Last year I kept joking about how everyone was going to start taking me seriously when I turn 20 years sober. I celebrated and spoke at a couple of AA meetings and then it was as if nothing happened. To be honest I was a little disappointed.
What have I been up to since last year?
I’m glad you asked. I moved into my girlfriend’s apartment, she broke her arm and had a hard time at her job, then I got cancer and spent the last five months getting treated for that and then yesterday my girlfriend breaks up with me and now I’m 38 years old who is turning 21 years sober and single, unemployed, homeless and recovering from a surgery.
So things have gone swimmingly since my last anniversary.
I wrote in my last blog that I continued to not drink over a lot of different painful experiences and again I am not taking a drink. In fact things have gotten so fucked up, I don’t know how to react. I might just crawl into a corner and start laugh/cry hysterically or just sit and stare at the wall with a scowl on my face. I have no idea what to do.
I had a conversation with a friend a month or so back about how I don’t think I can handle one more thing. I was scared that if one more fucking bad thing happened I would lose my goddamned mind.
That one more thing happened and I’m just barely able to keep my mind. I am so sad and depressed that I mostly feel like I’m in a daze after an explosion. I feel alone. I feel very alone.
I’m not even mad. It is the right thing to do and there isn’t anything I can do but sit here in pain and wait until I get better. I can only do the next right thing and someday I’ll just be better and this’ll just be one of those years I look back on and say it was the worst year of my life.
I’m not mad yet.
When I told my dad why she broke up with me, he said, “Well that’s too bad. You deserve happiness too, you know?”
Do I? I don’t know what I deserve. I’d like to be happy. It’s been a goddamned fucking elusive thing to me. I’ve not known happiness very many times in my life. I can count them on my two hands. A few of them happened with my now most recent ex-girlfriend.
A friend from out of town called today and he was talking about maybe moving back to Portland and I said I’m still here, even in a city full of exes.
She isn’t wrong and I’m not a victim. It was the right thing to do and she is strong for doing it. I’ll love her for a long time.
Heartbreak is almost worst then cancer. Almost. I cried all night and tried to cheer myself up by watching YouTube NBA fights, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how we were so good together and that I should have fought to keep her a little more or write her a powerful letter that’ll make her regret her decision and come running into my arms or that she’ll just naturally realize that the world is a cold lonely fucking awful place without me and call me up at 3am to let me know that she’s coming to get me.
I know that there is nothing I can do about heartbreak except wait till it ends. I’ve been heartbroken a couple of times before, so I know what I’m looking forward to. I made sure I kept relationships with my guy friends going and never abandoned them for Girlfriend Island. It almost makes it sadder how confidant I am about getting through this.
I was feeling fine until I opened my computer and saw a picture of her on my background. Changed it to snowy trees. Lump in my throat came back.
Now at 21 years I have to start all over. I have to go find a new job when I’m healthy enough and a new place to live. The problem is I thought I would be somewhere much better than I am right now. I didn’t think I might be moving into my parents’ basement at 38. For the first ten years I was sober I actually thought I wouldn’t even be alive at 38 let alone sober, and now that I actually did some work, I thought I’d be a young professional or artist who was married.
Kids are in none of my futures good or bad.
I hate this last year. It was so fucking hard to live through it. I hate that it keeps on going with no relief in sight, but I have to have faith that it is there. I just want to be done with the health stuff and get the fuck on with my life.
Sorry if I swear too much, but goddamn it, life’s been a fucking asshole lately.
Last night I was lying staring into the blackness and I kept thinking that maybe I’m just not good at life. Maybe life is too complicated for a guy like me. I’m smart enough to know how absurd everything is, but not smart enough to make a vocation out of any cause. I’m too much personality and not enough identity. I kept thinking about how the only thing that I have ever really succeeded at is not drinking or doing drugs for a long ass time.
Maybe this is what I needed to change all of that. Maybe having this fucking wicked loser of a year will give me that ‘I-almost-
died’ spirit and I’ll start succeeding at other stuffs. Maybe I’ll not let fear run my life and I’ll go ahead and do the things I don’t think I’m good enough to do.
I don’t know. 21 years. So thirsty, so alone. Sigh. Maybe this is the year that everyone takes me seriously.