If I don't write this, I'm going to drink. Tonight.

I just took a thirty day chip at my Sunday night meeting. I have thirty-five days.

I'm afraid that if I stop writing, indeed if I get up from in front of this computer, I'm going to go out and by beer or wine or SOMETHING.

I'm restless as all hell. I can't seem to stop bouncing my leg up and down. **** **** **** **** **** **** ****.

I don't know how much of this is in my head, but my...

I continue on in this catch-22, hap-hazard and exhausted way. The only good thing I'm feeling right now is the fact that I'm sober tonight and will wake up sober tomorrow. I'm trying to find some solace in that.

I'm working a job for which I'm overqualified. A job that does not cover my bills, let alone my debts. I work a second job and end up eeking by on money from my family in order to survive. I was given an award at work this morning...two awards, actually, for monthly acheivement...

Every once in a while I'm given a reminder that this disease is not something to be taken lightly, and not something to f*ck around with.

Even at nearly thirty years of age, I sometimes find myself with that old teenage attitude of invincibility. Sure, I can't drink...but if I did, nothing AWFUL would happen...
but it damned well could.

Today I learned that a young man who graduated from my high school one year after me, who I knew through a friend's sister,...

I'd tried to post a thread from home the other night, just to say "I'm back", but my computer has what seems to be the herpes-meets-chlamydia of computer viruses. Ie, it's nasty and won't go away.

I'm sober, I'm determined, I'm doing it one day at a time, and I've actually started going to meetings close to my apartment AND meeting the people there. ACTUALLY making sober friends and building what my sponsor calls a "picket fence". I heard a rad speaker last night...

I've been going to meetings off and on...had wracked up a little time and then went out.

Went out by accident, but then there are no accidents. When someone at a small art opening hands you a freshly baked cookie, you don't expect it to have pot in it.

But then again, I'd let myself get too close.

What bothers me is this: My first thought upon finding out that it was a weed-cookie was not to throw it up, was not to call another alcoholic, and was not...