Back to the Past

Sep. 12, 2008

I don't know what to write about. My mind is blank. This journal thing is new and I find it exhausting—coming up with new material everyday is torture. Yesterday's entry is boring. I reread it and wonder why my family would care to know about my life. I don't need my loser life qualified by its written version. Dr. Fry says write. He told me yesterday to shut up and write. "Everyone has excuses," he said, "but action is a rarity."

I'm going on two years without a drink. I think sometime next month will be the actual anniversary but I want to say something about it tonight. I am friendless, jobless and closer to hopelessness than I remember being when drinking. I was busy every night and hung with friends every weekend. I had a good job and seemed eager for the future. But now, after the accident, everyone insists that it was self-destructive behavior that brought on, what I call bad luck. Yes I drank that night, but I did not intend to hurt anyone. I didn't wake up that morning and say, 'Today I think I'll kill a little girl.' I didn't think about the joyous life that would be pain killers, disability checks and insomnia. I didn't think about all the pain I was about to cause later that night. There's not a second that goes by that I don't wish I could go back in time and punch myself in the face. But, even after two years of weekly AA meetings I still don't think I was ever an alcoholic. I was stupid. I was arrogant. But my drinking was in control. I don't think it warranted this kind of outcome. Dr. Fry says I need to forgive myself. He says it isn't necessary to live with so much guilt. But hey, at least I get to live. And at least the guilt reminds me of what was lost.

Billy Zader
24