Welcome • User Guide
ToS • Privacy • Canary
Donate • Bugs • License

©2024 Poal.co

1.3K

I spent 30 days in an in-patient recovery facility.

30 days of going to group therapy, 30 days of listening to other patients who had problems exactly like mine, 30 days of lying to my therapist, because if I were to disclose my true thoughts I would've been deemed a risk to myself or others.

30 days of waking up at 5:00 and going to the gym twice daily, 30 days with four different roommates, all of whom had wildly differing opinions on the temperature the room should be kept at, 30 days of hoarding milk in the lounge mini-fridge because snacks in between meals were hard to come by.

30 days of only consuming mainstream media.

30 days that were actually pretty pleasant all around.

But I have been home since Thanksgiving, and I do not find my sobriety to be comforting at all.

I have attended AA meetings since I left.

I have raised my hand, and I have talked, and I have shared, and I have drank some of the shittiest coffee I have ever had.

I have had a schizophrenic man break down in tears, insisting he recognized me from a place that I could not have been.

I say the prayers and I try my hardest to mean them, but they feel like hollow formalities that God chooses not to listen to every time I say them.

I feel completely disconnected from everything and find little joy in anything.

Every single thing I do feels like a designed distraction to keep me from noticing the extremely obvious malevolent nature of Consciousness.

It feels like there is a constant shroud of evil around everything, like something is just waiting to break through.

Human interaction is polite and cursory. It feels like very few people have anything interesting to say. My roommate asked me if I felt better and had stopped hating myself when I within the first 15 minutes of returning home. I lied to him and said yes.

Many people in my life told me that not drinking would make my life better. I think that is excellent advice for most people. I am just old enough and know myself well enough to say that I am extremely abnormal in my way of thinking. I am not convinced that this sobriety thing will work out for me.

Worst of all, I feel like I cannot write the same way I used to. The words don't flow anymore and seem stuck in my head. Maybe this is just a temporary problem I have to work through, maybe not. If it stays like this, I will go back to drinking.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving,

Regards,

-Theo

I spent 30 days in an in-patient recovery facility. 30 days of going to group therapy, 30 days of listening to other patients who had problems exactly like mine, 30 days of lying to my therapist, because if I were to disclose my true thoughts I would've been deemed a risk to myself or others. 30 days of waking up at 5:00 and going to the gym twice daily, 30 days with four different roommates, all of whom had wildly differing opinions on the temperature the room should be kept at, 30 days of hoarding milk in the lounge mini-fridge because snacks in between meals were hard to come by. 30 days of only consuming mainstream media. 30 days that were actually pretty pleasant all around. But I have been home since Thanksgiving, and I do not find my sobriety to be comforting at all. I have attended AA meetings since I left. I have raised my hand, and I have talked, and I have shared, and I have drank some of the shittiest coffee I have ever had. I have had a schizophrenic man break down in tears, insisting he recognized me from a place that I could not have been. I say the prayers and I try my hardest to mean them, but they feel like hollow formalities that God chooses not to listen to every time I say them. I feel completely disconnected from everything and find little joy in anything. Every single thing I do feels like a designed distraction to keep me from noticing the extremely obvious malevolent nature of Consciousness. It feels like there is a constant shroud of evil around everything, like something is just waiting to break through. Human interaction is polite and cursory. It feels like very few people have anything interesting to say. My roommate asked me if I felt better and had stopped hating myself when I within the first 15 minutes of returning home. I lied to him and said yes. Many people in my life told me that not drinking would make my life better. I think that is excellent advice for most people. I am just old enough and know myself well enough to say that I am extremely abnormal in my way of thinking. I am not convinced that this sobriety thing will work out for me. Worst of all, I feel like I cannot write the same way I used to. The words don't flow anymore and seem stuck in my head. Maybe this is just a temporary problem I have to work through, maybe not. If it stays like this, I will go back to drinking. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, Regards, -Theo

(post is archived)

You are currently inside a comment thread.
Click here to see all the comments (134).
[–] • 4 pts

Thanks, we will see how it goes.

[–] • 4 pts

Yeah, your already fucked. If you think now that you will go back to drinking, you're already fucked. Sorry to have to say it, but it's the truth. My father drank himself to death. He didn't believe in God or prayers, either. He was too smart for all that spiritual crap, right? So smart that he drank himself into the grave, because he chose alcohol over blood-pressure pills. Yeah, real smart. God, I hate drunks. If there's anything in this world that I actually hate, it's alcoholics.

[–] • 2 pts

You hate drunks cause they remind you of yourself

[–] • 1 pt

Yeah, Thats all the more reason to know it's the correct choice then. If you dont hate yourself how can you hate othersor something something ....

[–] • 0 pt

I get what you're trying to say.

An alcoholic life is not sustainable. It is a death sentence, and it will be a miserable and unhonorable death. I can't imagine people cry at their funerals because they've seen it coming for some time. When one of my parents was an alcoholic, I bought an outfit for their funeral while they were still alive, just because I thought it would be any day.

[–] • 0 pt

Thanks for letting me know how you feel.

[–] • 3 pts

30 days of waking up at 5:00 and going to the gym twice daily,

Did you get any mad gainz?

[–] • 2 pts

Fucking 27 pounds. I had those nice bicep veins when I went in, not when I checked out, though.