#2.23.2013

I'm selfish as fuck. 

And it's okay. 

Learned that today. This meeting felt different than the others. I mean, it was the same old thing.

"Hi, I'm Sam and I'm an alcoholic".

it's getting easier to say. to admit. to believe. I ain't ready to shout it from the rooftops, but I can finally look in the mirror and say it softly to myself without turning away or tearing up.

I dunno what made me talk to this guy afterwards. I think it's 'cause he reminded me of Henry Rollins. One of those old gutter punk club dudes who thrived on music with shitty guitars, even shittier vocals, and thrash. He had tattoo sleeves and combat boots. This old guy, looking completely badass. Even while eating a strawberry cupcake. 

I was sitting in the trunk, trying to hold shit together, like I always do. Sometimes, I get really overwhelmed during the meetings. Listening to other people's stories. Remembering my own. I don't know why I have these breakdowns, but I guess they're good for me. I guess he saw me, and he just hopped in the passenger seat, lit a cigarette, and said "I used to do the same shit too. It helps, letting it out." 

We sat and talked for two hours. Right out front of this Presbyterian church. Told him about Red. Showed him her picture. He called her gorgeous. We've been together 5 months now.

February 18th made it five.

He asked if I loved her. I said "completely and unconditionally". He smiled at that. 

Told him about the shit with my parents. Not everything. Just Mama calling me selfish. Saying I shouldn't talk to them. He nodded a bit and lit another cigarette. "You're selfish as fuck. Right now, you gotta be."

Alcoholism is a disease. And with any sickness, you gotta look out for yourself. But that don't mean you forget all the other people in your life. There's gotta be a balance. I realized it's okay to be selfish, at least about this. Drinking's what got me here. Car accident. Titans and Pavs bullshit. I keep trying to escape my issues, filling my time with dumb shit, instead of looking at my sickness. Why I do these things. 

Being with Red helps. I mean, sometimes my hands shake at night. I'll get these bouts of withdrawal that cramp my stomach and give me a headache. Usually, I'll take a nap. More and more, I play guitar. I just...it's so easy now...when there's really nothing weighing me down, or holding me back. 

Guess that means the temptation's greater too. I'll think about drinking, how easy it could be to do it out here. Then my mind goes to Red. I never wanna see that look in her eyes again. Scared. Helpless. Disappointed. 'Cause of me. I can't do that to her, or to myself. 

But living in this bubble, like we are, ain't exactly helping my recovery either. It won't always be just the two of us, dwelling in this place while the world moves around us. Eventually we'll have to settle, or for me, talk to my parents, and what will I have to show for this time? 

I need to work on making myself better. Using this journey as a chance to really grow and fix things. Get my school shit together. Figure out some kind of direction. I need that little bit of structure, even out here. Other than that, I'm willing to let the road take me wherever. 

So I made a friend in Salt Lake. Gave me his number. Said to call him whenever I needed to shoot the shit, or for someone to "knock some fuckin' sense into that pretty boy head". 

His name is Mark. 

Think I just found my sponsor.