A wasted life

I spent about 6 years of my life wasted, then had a life-changing experience and now I've spent 6 years and 9 months sober. 6 years and 9 months seems like a long time, but it often feels like 6 weeks, or even 6 days. I find that sometimes I feel like I've got this thing beat, but mostly it just beats me and breaks my spirit and makes me feel like I cannot be a part of anything real anymore.

Gogol Bordello played Friday night. The band was as raucous as ever - the concert was more wild and dangerous than any metal show I've ever attended. The air stank of sweat, but mostly it reeked of beer. I wanted that so badly- on my left, a bar, behind me the exit door. Someone actually threw a beer cup at Matt and it was making me lose my mind. I stayed for as long as I could, and I bailed fast when I couldn't take it anymore.

This is a damnable thing, it is. Because of this I missed seeing one of my dear friends and I feel terrible. Plus, I cried most of the way home and probably made my poor husband feel like crap, too.

I miss looking forward to weekends for excitement and relaxation and I miss proper parties. At this point, I don't think that sobriety is ever going to get any easier. It's always going to be day by day, and often minute to minute. I shouldn't be posting this, it's far more personal than I usually like to get on this blog. However, sometimes a confessional is somewhat healing, even if it's just me feeling a bit sorry for myself and having a semi-public pity party.

I promise that either later today or tomorrow I will begin posting about Romania, particularly the aftermath of the experience.