I Quit

If you’ve followed this blog for a little while you’ll have an understanding of my battle with alcohol… and what I’ve been up to. 

For a little while, I have been experimenting with alcohol thinking that maybe I could re-introduce it into my life on a controlled basis. It has been a dangerous experiment and probably one that I thought I could do successfully. I may have talked myself into thinking I could do it because of my condition. 

I’m realizing that I can’t. I’d like to be able to still have that beer at a barbecue or a sporting event but I can’t. It’s just too much of a slippery slope that I inevitably fall down on and crash all the way to the bottom. Right now, I’m laying in bed and feeling like mental, emotional and physical hammered shit because I was drinking yesterday. I hate myself for doing what I did. My state of mind is one of futility and worthlessness and hopelessness. And I don’t want to feel this way. 

I was telling myself, as I lay here, that I have to quit doing this. To just stop. And then I realized my own trap… I’m saying that I have to quit this. That I haven’t made a decision or a change by recognizing this. I’m putting it off… delaying the decision. Instead… I am saying to myself… I choose to quit drinking. Right now. I quit.

Life Is A Marathon

Do you remember Kevin Spacey’s character in Horrible Bosses? You know him… the super-mega asshole, Dave Harkin, who’s motto was:

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Well, I’ve discovered that there is a basis for this statement in reality. While I’m running around in soccer, I sweat and my own friggin nipples rub against the inside of my shirt. So much so that they get super sensitive and painful. Who’da thunk it?

Marathon runners will definitely attest to this as a fact and there are tons of pics out on the Internet of poor, unfortunate bastards who forgot their band aids and their nipples were bleeding by the time they were finishing the race.

Granted, I think I’m far enough away from THAT happening to me but it still keeps me aware.

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