More to say than I thought....

In no particular order.....

*sigh*

There's a bouncer gig at a biker bar in Lake Dallas. I'm a tad bit leery of bikers.

Pros:
1- that's about 40 miles closer than the job I'm working at now.

Cons:
1- It's only two nights a week instead of three
2- unknown pay scale
3- I really like everybody else at the bar I'm at now

I don't know if I want to move there or not. I'm not afraid of bikers, as my experience has been that they're a generally good lot, but I don't have health insurance. Cowboys and college kids seem every so slightly safer.

After a few more hours to think about this, I still get some memories that get conjured up when I see a face or hear a name or experience something similar. It's like they've almost faded into oblivion and then WHAM - there they are, man - right as fresh as the day I experienced them. And none are memories I want, either, even though they're inherently attractive. I mean, recovering alcoholics still want a drink every now and again, right? That's part and parcel of the addiction, man. In the same way, there's always that one part of my brain where the depraved addict shall always live, just rubbing his dirty hands in glee at the thought of being allowed the opportunity to chew on those memories for a while. It's almost like getting triggered; it's being one step away from losing it again. I have to starve that guy, man - I don't have a choice.

Man - even 320+ days sober I still feel like I have to fight like hell every once in a while; fight like I first had to when I was first sobering up in those first several terrible weeks. I wish I could scoop out the inside of my brain and just remove those parts forever, but that's the problem - you can't. Memories are forever, man, especially those memories. And it's not just one person, either - it's several, as much as I hate to admit that. It's like when one comes us, they all have to follow. Damn them. And I have to put them down again one by one - every single time, and they don't stay gone forever. They are still every bit as powerful, still every bit as intoxicating, still every bit as alluring, still every bit as tempting, and still every bit as poison and deadly to me serenity and my sobriety. Yet they still hold that power, man.

I wish they would.

So now, I'm going to have to fight them off again, one at a time, just like I did when I first started recovery, and it's only slightly easier now, almost three years later.

At least I know what to do now, and how to fight. I guess it's the fact that I have to fight that upsets me so.

And I (we) don't know how to handle all of it, either. Let's pretend that I get a text from an ex I used to be involved with. Let's pretend I've basically handed my cell phone over to my wife at this point, which I've basically done. Does my wife tell me that I got the text or does the erase it? Does she keep that secret from me, or is she open with it, knowing that it'll possibly cause me to exist in a profoundly less serenity-based state for several days (if not weeks) afterwards? Or does she delete it and carry that burden herself/ What if I see somebody online, at church, or in Wal-mart? How do we respond to that? I can't live with my head in the sand and exist in isolation, can I? We still struggle with stuff like this.

I hate that my wife has to endure this. It's not fair to her. It hasn't been fair to anybody, ever.

Well, what can you do, man? Same thing I always have - just keep moving forward, one day at a time.