Addiction is dangerous. That’s an irrefutable statement. It’s encompassing and overbearing and as viscous as tar. It takes far less effort to stay stuck and wallow in your toxin of choice than it does to crawl towards safety. Shit, getting out of it doesn’t always seem like you’re moving towards safety – this is your pit, everything you know is now getting stuck in this pit, you’ve spent time convincing yourself and others that even though it looks like a pit of shit it’s actually where you’ve chosen to be and dry land isn’t always a fairytale anyway. Come and join me in the shit pit, friends – maybe get a tetanus jab first.
I’ve always yearned for a more comfortable and natural interaction with people. When I was drunk, I thought I’d found that effortless ease – somehow believed that the blackouts and fall outs and freak outs were necessary to mould myself into the person I wanted to be. But even geniuses make mistakes. (That’s me – I’m talking about me. I’m the genius.)
Then it clicked. I didn’t hear the click at the time it sounded, but the echo of it must have reached my consciousness when I decided to be perceptive to it. The pit tried to swallow that click too, but I clawed it back with my creepy, skeletal hands. (That’s not part of my inherently distinct imagery to impose a sense of doom – I physically have creepy, skeletal hands). It was fucking tough. It’s still fucking tough sometimes, I’ve been writing about the toughness of sobriety, on and off, for the past 661 days with the aim of sharing it. Reading about my struggles and victories (and my ego) might help you, might distract you, might make you want to drink to forget you’ve spent time reading such drivel. I make no promises either way and no refunds will be given. (I joke – I’m not charging you. Yet.)
Initially I wrote the content with the intention of it being a book. I’ll edit some of the mentions of it being a book, to an extent – it’s a really good read as it stands (hello ego) so I don’t want to massacre it to the point of changing the tone. Entries will hopefully be regular and self-contained. This is something I’ve felt compelled to do and it hasn’t felt like a chore – a pretty wonderful mix! I have primarily written this for myself rather than with a particular audience in mind – more bluntly, I’m not looking for approval of the content. It would be great if this starts conversations and highlights ideas people might have been struggling to vocalise. You’re not alone, no matter what your traitor of a brain might whisper.
Sam is 661 days sober and counting, brain. Do your worst.
Wanna chat? I’m 6% ears. At a guess.
alcoholitaday@hotmail.com
Alcohol It A Day 
