Done

I'm done with you. I'm done with me. I'm just done. I've been riding a roller coaster of emotion for the past several weeks and it's starting to wear me down. I've been restless, depressed, paralyzed, lacking in energy and focus. I've been trying to pull myself out, trying to not let myself get dragged down. Fucking women, man. I fucking swear to God. They can either make me feel like the king of the world or the dirt on the bottom of their shoe. And I allow this to happen. It's my fault. I don't have the right boundaries or defenses up or something.

Every time I break up with a hot girl I always think that's it. That's the last one. She was the one and it's over. I go through the cycles and come a year or two later another one comes along and I get sucked into that and then the breakup and the thinking that's it again. She was the one and now it's over. It's done. Over and over and over again. I just need to fucking stop with it all, man. I'm sick to fucking death of it all. I'm sick of being single and I'm sick of being with fucked up bitches that just fuck with my head and split. I don't know why it has to be so fucking hard. I really don't. Am I making it that hard? What am I doing wrong here? Time and time again I've resigned myself to a life alone. Told myself "Fuck it! No more!" Dude, I really fucking want to give up. That's how I've been feeling these past few weeks...the depression nipping at my ass and the voices in my head egging me on. What I really need to do is to get my ass into a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. That's really what I need to do.

Cause you see although I've been off of drugs and alcohol for almost six years now I am still a sick puppy. I'll be sick until the day I die. All I have is a daily reprieve from drinking and using drugs. And this reprieve is contingent on my spiritual connection with God. And alcoholism wants to take me down. It LIVES to take me down. It is patient and it waits. It seizes upon every opportunity when I am weak and frustrated and full of fear and doubt and it whispers in my ear all these things, all these hopeless, insane, depressing things. And when I am weak I listen to it. One might think that because I've been sober for several years now that I am okay that I am safer now than I was when I first started in recovery. But the awful truth is that I am more in danger, I am more ripe for the picking. This is because the disease progresses inside me whether or not I am drinking and/or using drugs. The disease has very little to do with alcohol and drugs at all. It has to do with my mind, with my spirit, with my mental state. Alcohol and drugs were just symptoms of my disease. The disease itself is FEAR. The disease itself is self-centeredness. I've gotten off track. Left my safety nets. Spiraling out in the darkness alone. Only God keeps me alive. Only God keeps me away from alcohol and drugs. The terrifying aspect of all this is the fact that I have taken using alcohol and drugs off the table of options and then I had to take suicide off the table of options. I will not pick up a drink or a drug. I will not kill myself. I will fight through the pain. I will soldier on. I will feel the pain. I will recognize the emotions, the fear, the regrets, the mistakes. I have to. My blog is a raw pouring out of all the bullshit in my head, all the disease and garbage. I have to get rid of it. I have to empty it out somehow. Just writing it down on my own doesn't work for me for some reason. I have to publish it and let other people read it. It's not something I necessarily enjoy doing. I'd rather hide what a crazy fucked up bastard I am. I'd rather people think I am with it and have all my shit together but that's simply not true. Since my father died I have been grinding through the days trying to put on a happy face despite the fact that I have been feeling hollow and empty inside. This woman came into my life at a time when I jumped head first into a new adventure of living up here at the farm and starting a new life. She was a ray of sunshine. I loved seeing her, holding her, feeling her next to me. And now she is completely gone and disappeared and the nightmare of my loneliness surrounds me. And I try to call my mother every week but it's getting more and more difficult. Every single time I call she sobs and sobs and sobs. It kills me. I want to comfort her but I have no idea of what to say. I try to find the words. I try to help but I am frozen. This new job is another thing. I don't know if I have the energy or passion to follow through with it. I feel so alone and just hanging out there on a fragile limb swaying in the breeze. That is just how I feel. That doesn't mean anything I guess. But it's painful, it's confusing, it's fucking hard, man.

I've been through a bunch of shit but so have other people and they make it. They survive. They move on and grow and evolve. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna move on. I'm gonna grow. I'm gonna evolve. I'm willing to go to any length to make it happen. I have to be. Or else I really am done.