The Road of Excess

I'm sitting at a meeting, my 3rd of the day. A guy younger than myself is talking about his *th day of sobriety. He's white knuckling it and I think of how strong the mania came on me when I was in ********* around the first week, and right around the end of the second. I could have climbed the walls. It would come on viciously and suddenly.
I look and see what addiction has done to everyone here. Each to a different or similar extent, but we are all broken people. Broken and finally, perhaps, willing to admit that our self-will run riot led us here and perhaps, just for today, we don't have to anesthitize ourselves to life and the human condition.
We talk about pride at the meeting and I see how deceptive my pride and self-will had been. I was running as fast as I could toward the bitter end and my inability to admit this thing was bigger than myself was in the driver's seat. Pride strikes up the band and the march of my other vices.
I leave that meeting, get some coffee and sit amongst other young(ish) alcoholics/addicts and I begin to come to terms with the relapses and the ***** and my anger and fear and frustration at so many falling off so quickly.
My disease is progressive and fatal and I can only treat it one day at a time and hope to arrest it in that manner as well.
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I'm alone at my place and it's okay.
I lay and look up into the dark and pray. I talk through my day and my fears and my gratitude that I'm not out running the streets. I have a roof over my head, something to eat.
I'll wake up rested for work and I'll be in good condition to hit the gym and train afterward.

I let go of my expectations regarding my girlfriend.
I let go of caring and I accept that more of those I met in ******** will relapse and that so long as I take one step at a time I don't have to drink nor pick up.
I have tools to combat addiction and there are no more excuses.
I know what to do and if I elect not to do it, for once, I am consciously choosing to use.

I watch a movie I got from redbox and I am tired and I realize I will sleep well until my alarm sounds.
I don't have to get **** or drink ** beers to quit the gnawing anxiety and insecurity which once pervaded my life, especially in the deafening silence of the dark of night and solitude.

"For it only insomnia, many must have it."

It's been a rollercoaster of a week from my ex-wife to the relapses and the ***** of a friend from *********.

Despite these things, the obsession to drink/use for the most part has been lifted.
The emotional bender of Saturday has subsided and for that I am grateful. I felt the old wordless tempest of emotions clawing my insides out and then I had to work my side job in the midst of the mouth of madness, but tired as I was, I got off, went home, and slept fitful sleep and was not tempted to partake of the downtown scene.