Experiments are fun.

I haven't updated in awhile because of how difficult I've found the past few weeks, but on the suggestion of someone I feel close to, I'm going to try and relate recent events.

As of today I'm two months sober. I've prayed, meditated, gone to meetings and have spent a lot of time feeling very, very sorry for myself. I've felt alone, disconnected and unable to bring about a feeling of positivity or understanding in who I am, what I'm doing and why I should continue. I find myself without direction or purpose, the futility of my actions and a sombre worldview have been all encompassing and I have no release. I've thought about death and serious injury as a way out, as a means of change and escaping the trivial nature of daily plodding existence. I've suffered insomnia, depression and bouts of solitary sobbing that strip me of all strength and resolve. I miss my carefree life where days didn't matter, where choices didn't matter, where I didn't matter, masked in a haze of drinking, drugs, meaningless socialization and the next good time.

I've been to therapy where it was abruptly suggested to me that I suffer from chemical imbalances, that I might be bi polar, clinically depressed, adhd, etc, etc. I've had a few shifts in the restaurant biz where I've had to face my "lifestyle change" through awkward situations -- "Why don't you get a free drink at the bar, hang out for a bit?" -- that I've surely made more awkward than necessary. I've struggled with guilt, with my ego, with decisions and indecisions, with acceptance and not giving a shit.

I didn't want to write any blogs because I didn't want to show how hard this is.

I guess that's not the point though.

I'm rooting my recovery in honesty, but sometimes it's hard to know what the truth is. It's hard to separate feelings from truths; it's hard to see reality for what it is. I started this whole thing because of how screwed up I felt, how much I'd fucked things up and recently I've felt worse than ever. I talked to my sponsor about this -- a man who once had a $10, 000 a week coke habit -- as though I were a failure. He disagreed.

He seems to think there's been a change in me. The simple fact that I haven't gone out to smoke a big, fat joint even though I know it would make me "feel better" is huge. I try to tell him that it might just be my ego getting in the way, I've told too many people, it would be too much of a let down.

He's not so sure.

I guess the truth remains that I still hold out hope that things will get better the longer I do this. I'm not sold on the therapist's list of psychological ailments and I guess I'm not looking for an easy out. I feel good when I help other people and I need to involve myself in that more. I feel good when I'm working a little more steadily and that will come if I keep looking. I feel good when I have something to look forward to and I need to get my head out of my ass if I'm going to be able to see at all.

Last night I went to a Cocaine Anonymous meeting. It was a members' one year medallion ceremony. To hear how the beaming, confident, humble and jovial man being honoured was described by fellow members upon his first introduction to the program was a description of two different men.

I expect to always remain the same person to a certain extent, but a year from now I hope to be in a place that my current self can barely imagine: Happy, honest, hardworking, reliable and with a whole bunch of ridiculous things up my sleeve to keep life interesting; enviably insane and full of life.

This post is a bit disjointed and probably embarrassing, but I'm glad I wrote it. Part of me wishes I could fast forward this part of my life, that I could sneak a peak at what things will be like a year from now just to know that this will all make sense, but right now I'm glad I have to go through this stuff and, fuck it, I guess I'm proud.

Life doesn't make sense, what I'm doing doesn't make sense, but I'm going to keep doing it and I'm going to keep talking about it and I guess we'll see. Experiments are fun, right?