Feeling a bit sorry for myself at the moment. In AA we are urged to resist self-pity as an indulgence we can't afford. It's bad for sobriety. It even has its very own goofy slogan: "Poor me...poor me...pour me a drink."
Why does my sense of gratitude sometimes slip away like a feather on a breeze? I don't know, nor do I know how to willfully recall it. One thing I do know, though it's hard to remember when I get down on myself, is that the feeling of self-pity will pass just as all feelings do. I know too that I won't be destroyed by this emotion, or by any other. Sometimes the best idea I can come up with is to simply wait it out.
I just don't want this mess, you know? The me mess. I just don't want to deal with it.
Another goofy slogan, one I like much better, is this acronym:
Son
Of a
Bitch,
Everything's
Real!
Yeah, no shit. Everything is very real now. It's better that way, but in some ways it's harder. In some ways it's still hard to accept that this is who I am and this is the life I've made. I'm making good changes, but damn. The road looks to be eighty thousand miles long, and I'm around mile two.
(Are we there yet?)
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