Another late night


Hello all, Duke has taken over the bed, and I’m about ready to crawl in. I have a few aches and pains, and am waiting patiently for the ibuprofen to decide to get off its lazy butt and work again.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to draw a few things again. It’s frustrating that what I see inside my head doesn’t look right on the page. I still practice every day. It’s something to keep me busy, I guess.

I’ve spent quite a bit of online time while my Husband rests, and watching videos on how to do things. I still haven’t figured out certain blending things, but I’m doing alright.

Today I replied to a newcomer in a recovery forum. I’m having a heck of a time not using the program as a weapon lately. I learned from the masters of bullshittery how to destroy someone with the program. I learned how to rip out someone’s heart and ruin recovery for them forever. I hate this lesson. I’d rather lick ashtrays clean.

Once, somebody pulled me aside and asked why XYZ was my sponsor. I told them part of the truth. I said, “They show me what not to do in meetings.” XYZ had character defects that were quite apparent. The truth was, they knew the Big Book front to back and back again.

Another member hated being asked what part of the program they were working when they did this or that. The problem? That same person would challenge percieved lesser thans to that exact question with malice aforethought.

For decades, I’ve watched and listened. I heard. At some point, the drama got freaking old. At some point, the malicious and poisonous sources of recovery started to show their true colors.

They showed me who I didn’t want to grow up to be. Today, I fought those tendencies in myself. It sucks. It also means that I need to hit the steps a bit harder. Yet, while my husband is facing this surgery, I can’t. There is just nothing to spare.

So, I’m doing the best I can, and gripping my higher power like a life raft. I don’t want to use, and yet I know that those character defects will kill me, or someone around me. I have nightmares that I turn into one of those dragons of the past. Heck most of them are dead, drunk or have moved away.

I don’t want to be that person. God, please help me be who you want me to be.

Hugs, my friends. Keep on. Writing this as a canned post, I know, but it needs to be released I guess. Take care. -L

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