The admission that I was committing suicide through drinking was the first step in my recovery. Once I had made that admission to myself, it still took a year to actually get stopped. Admitting it to myself was not enough, I had to admit it to others too. That started the process of getting some help I needed. As Camus states it was a beginning.
I do not think I have ever contemplated the weariness of it, or any value that came from weariness. I do remember being weary, really tired of the grind of breathing in and out, perhaps that was part of quieting my ego enough to begin seeing things differently. Camus has the advantage of going through it sober? When I go back and look at my journal from the early days of sobriety, which is hard for me to do, all I see is desperation, pain and insanity. I am not always completely sure how I got here, but as Winnie the Pooh says: “Wherever you go, there you are.”