Racked with nerves. Trying desperately to remain unattached. I am not going to read any reviews lest I may believe all of them.
Bullshit. Already read one. It was good. Still don’t want to believe it because if that review is right then so are the ones that will say it is bad, which I’m sure there will be. Believe one, believe them all. That’s the deal.
That’s the deal.
I’ve been feeling like throwing up since my return from Africa. Not from the water, or the delicious Springbocke meatballs, the oryx roast or anything tasty and exotic that I may or may not have tried. Just nerves. A simple case of “What the hell is going to happen,” nerves.
“Whatever is going to happen has already happened. It’s in the gods’ hands now. In fact, it always was in their hands.”
The best and worst part about sobriety (any kind of sobriety, be it emotional, substance, food, etc.) is that I feel every single one of my feelings. Personally, I still have a difficult time identifying all of those feelings (is this excitement or am I seasick?), because the way the feelings hit is like the way waves lap onto the beach. Some smush with others, some squash others, some look like they are going to be huge and scary but then I realize I can touch the ground and stand up. The wave isn’t as bad standing. It’s only bad when I’m up to my nostrils in saltwater and tired of treading water, convinced that deep is much deeper than it actually is.
Releasing a book is definitely a quality problem.
Problème de qualité.
Problema de calidad.
I’m going to stay close. I’m going to stay safe. I’m going to be devoted and faithful to my program. Without that program, none of this is possible.
I just came back from filming Dr. Drew’s show on Headline News. God, it’s validating when they put that little microphone on you. Like, the entire world can now hear every single move you make. Like you will never be alone again. Like what you say carries such great importance, it must be amplified and recorded. Such a slippery feeling. A little tiny microphone and a big slippery feeling. It’s good to know it’s there, addiction, creeping into my life it’s most pure form. Attention. Here it comes.
I admit, there has been a little attention here in this space and that has kept my skies clear. You have helped keep me safe. You have helped keep me accountable. You have let me be accountable to you. And for that I am grateful. Please continue to do so. Please continue to call me on shit. Please continue to remind me of the deadly disease of addiction. Please know that you have all been a sponsor and mentor to me, and I read each of your words, the good, bad and ugly. Please know that without you, none of this is possible.
Here we go. All of us. In this. Together.
Here we go.
Let’s publish a book.