Despite opening and closing my blog like a madwoman, I still think it is important for me to write here. I literally don’t know why I keep closing my blog. It is all tied up with fear, but fear of what? Fear, perhaps, that by writing I am committing myself to a process which I keep slipping up on, and that the slipping up makes the writing null and void? Trying to be perfect, and finding that my constant relapses don’t fit into the version of perfect I’m trying to reach?
Anyway, the fact that I keep coming back here suggests I need it, and certainly I find the writing therapeutic, and the comments really helpful. I know it must be really frustrating to check in here and find the blog closed, so I’M GOING TO TRY AND STOP DOING THAT.
This week has been day one after day one. I’ve been completely hopeless. A bit like the blog closing, I shut out offers of help. I was supposed to be ringing my sponsor if I felt the urge to drink; but instead, I would turn the phone off and drink on my own. There’s that fear again.
All buoyancy seems to have leached out of me. Time to wake up and get that energy back before it is too late. Another day one, then, another day one.