From Scratch...

I keep asking myself what I will become. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t. I must reinvent myself all over again, yet I don’t know what I should be. I thought I could be a symbol; show people how to do it, how to become sober. But I failed.

My mistakes have been chronicled. I have neither sponsor nor sponsee. I met the love of my life, June N., and learned how she fell out of love with me. I know now she will never love me again. I can only image why.

The pity party has started. I’ll start going back to meetings nearly every day, but since I’m not religious, I doubt I’ll have much support. See, Saint Paul is a church community. Either you fain religious affiliation, or you are shunned. Yes, in the process of becoming sober, I learned to believe in God, but I am a former atheist. You mention that term to a sponsor in this town and you can kiss you chances of being sponsored good-bye.

I don’t want to sound like a complainer, but I am journaling this for a reason. I failed, and I don’t want anyone else to fail like I did. I want someone to learn from my mistakes. And just to know, just because someone is sober for nearly eight months doesn’t mean he’s succeeded. There is more to sobriety that just staying sober.

When you build yourself up from scratch, you have to remember all the people you’ve hurt along the way. And just to let you know, I never completed my fourth step. I was once at that point where I could trust enough to work through it, but I didn’t. I lost confidence, and trust.

My sponsee-brother, Mark J., wants me to move to Minneapolis with him, but I’m scared. I know Saint Paul so well. I don’t want to leave. I won’t leave. I will find a way, a path to follow; a new path. I just hope it’s the right path, because I’m really friggin’ tired of starting over from scratch.

But, I have something I didn’t have before: my health. My body works. My mind still works. I still have a relationship with the woman I can’t stop loving, June N., and I learned the most important lesson of all: a man’s word is his honor.

Honor is what no man can give you, and none can take away. Honor is a man’s gift to himself. Never worry of the giving of it; it grows in you, and speaks to you; all you need do is listen. Women are the heart of honor. We cherish and protect it in them. You should never mistreat a woman or malign a man, or stand by and watch another do so.

All I know is that I’m thankful that I had a father for the short time that he lived on this Quiet Earth. Friends of mine didn’t even have that luxury. But I learned a lot from this fine man. I learned a direction. He’s a fine man, and I could be too. I still need a little work.

But just let me say this one thing: I’ve had every drug in my body at one time in my life. Alcohol is the most addictive. I kicked all other drugs, but alcohol is the hardest. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not writing this to brag. I just hope my experience will help someone else.

I’ve been alone most of the last days at the new home, and I know I should get out more, but I feel like I should be alone. I don’t know why. Maybe to re-invent myself.


Without Wax,