Warning: In this post, I use the F-word more than usual, please excuse it or don’t read it.
I think I’m fucked.
Seriously, I think I made a fucked up decision about taking a new jobtaking a new job that pays 40% less, and the benefit costs are going to bring that compensation down to about 50% less. I’m dealing with the fear of the future (also known as anxiety), but you know what? For some reason, I’m well aware of the fear (One of the not-so-lovely enemies of alcoholics) I have going on in my head, but the desire to move past it doesn’t seem to rise up in me like it used to so many years ago.
I think, for me at least, I have this uncanny ability to look at a locomotive coming down the tracks and walk right onto those tracks, fully aware there would be nothing left of me but hair, teeth and eyeballs. Of course, there is that power of choice I can use to avoid it, but that is WAY too logical for someone like me – oddly enough, I LOVE logic, but I have not made much use of it in recent years. Hell, I even feel like the decision I made was made from an emotional standpoint and not a logical one. Hell, last night, I was really struggling with the decision to drink or not. I made it through the evening, however, and took a bath – I love baths – and I went to bed to give myself a chance to free my mind a little.
This morning, I woke up and thought to myself, “Yup, you’re fucked!” But I had another thought that went like this:
“This isn’t the first time you’ve had a good fucking, maybe you should just embrace it, you fucking fucker.”
So, I am going to face this decision I have made and I’m going to roll with it like a mutha-fucka! I have no fucking clue how I’m going to manage, but necessity will dictate the ideas and decisions from this point on. I’ll fuckin’ address things if/when they happen and not one fucking minute before.
Day 20, mutha-fuckas!
(P.S. I really hope I didn’t offend anyone.)