I poured the rest down the drain where it belongs. All it does is cause me to fuck up my life and I know enough by now to know better; it’s not a proper coping mechanism to use just because I’m hurting. I’m also tired of saying I’m sorry to people.
The month of May always breaks me. Lately it’s been particularly rough.
3 relapses this week.
I’m better than this, and I know it.
I’m going to stop drinking all together. Again. I have to. It’s no longer an option for me. I had three shots last night and was a complete idiot; again.
My brain chemistry is different now and it’s taking less and less to affect me negatively. I don’t want this for myself. I am better than this.
Karter is gone. He’s not coming back. You talk to your kids on Friday. Get it to fucking gether already you’re 43 years old!
“The only way ’round, is THROUGH.”
You can do it.