So I’m an alcoholic, yada yada yada…which means I’m sick of drinking away my life and yet secretly trying to find ways that it might be okay to do so. I want to be sober, but I’d like to enjoy my sobriety with a drink if that makes sense. Life would be perfect if I could only be sober, drunk.
I’m committed to this process of becoming sober, but ya know I’ve already decided I’m throwing my sobriety out the door if one of these things happens:
- Armageddon. If shit hits the fan, I’m getting into my car and literally crashing into the liquor store. From that point I’m going to loot, loot, loot. Grab all the everclear, vodka (top shelf preferably and anything else I can grab by the caseload). Think about it: If you’re so committed to sobriety that in the end of days your principles are keeping you from a readily accessible source of barter, sterilizer, anesthetic, medication, cleansing agent, bomb ingredient and good time…you’re stupid.
- The Second Coming of Christ: Seriously, this guy is turning water into wine and I’m just gonna be like “Thanks Jesus, but I’m an alcoholic”. Number one if he’s offering it to me than I’m going to have FAITH that he knows my history and has already gauged this to be a good idea. In fact, if this happens I’ll probably assume that being a drunk is my purpose.
- Accidentally hanging out with Scott Disick. A friend of mine and I got drunk once and were talking about who we would like to party with the most in all of history and we agreed it was Scott Disick. Coming in a close second was Jack Karouak and Henry Miller (in Paris). If I’m going to stay sober, I’ve just got to keep a close radar or my hall pass could turn into a quick go to jail, do not pass hall, do not collect two hundred bones. Sadly, the only two people on this list are Jesus and Scott Disick.
- Time Machine. I can’t promise that I will be sober if it’s possible to go back in time to Club 54. Thinking about this further I’ve also come to the realization I could go back to the day before I was at club 54 with Blondie and Rick James and erase the fact that I ever partied with them, threw up on them, went home with Rod Stewart and woke up in a Sultan size bed with nine other people. That is seven too many. So life with a time machine will pretty much be like my life as an alcoholic. Partying, damage control, partying, damage control and then it gets so messy I don’t know where I left what damage. See also: Armageddon.
Imagine the kind of coping skills I could have if I spent my time reading about emotional regulation and distress management instead of coming up with strategies dependent on imminent failure. I may be doing it all wrong, but cynicism is a coping strategy in and of itself. Today, I’m making fun of my addiction not indulging in it. Maybe I’ll be that person that makes light of the end of the world as it’s happening to pull people out of themselves so they can have that perception instead of all encompassing doom. Or maybe I will party with Jesus AND Scott Disick during Armageddon and certainly say I had no regrets.