Excerpts From a Diary 43
Yesterday Teddy called me & told me that when he got home from work on Wednesday, there was a note on the door from a lawyer representing Del-Van Motors. Teddy went over there & talked to D.J. – according to Teddy, they’re looking for Pat & wanted to know if he knew Pat’s address or any information as to his whereabouts. I told Teddy I didn’t know where Pat was – which is true. But I thought that something was wrong with that story – why would a lawyer leave a note on the door? Why wouldn’t he just call Teddy & leave a message on the machine? So I called D.J. myself. It turns out that Teddy went over to Del-Van Motors himself – he was looking for Pat. There’s no lawyer – nobody put a note on Teddy’s door. But it is true that D.J. & Del-Van Motors are looking for Pat. It seems that Pat owes them several hundred dollars – not $37 – like he told me – a while ago – I always thought $37 was a stupid amount of money & that there was something wrong with that story – but whatever. Talking to D.J. filled in some of the blanks & untangled some of the crossed tales that Pat has been telling me. Neither of them – Pat & Teddy – are telling me the truth – or the whole truth – just telling me what they want me to know & embroidering the rest as they see fit. I’m not mad – I’m too exhausted to be mad – I’m just disappointed – honestly – I’m not even particularly surprised.
In their scramble to hold on to me & keep me from the other, both of them are losing me.
I just talked to Jesse. It was wonderful to talk to him. He’s in Atlanta. I was like – Atlanta! Bob sent him there. He’s detoxing – coming off a 10-year addiction to painkillers – but also coke & booze – we connected on so many levels. A sober Jesse would be a mighty friend to have. Better than a lover. Much better than a lover.
I got a letter from Pat today. It was very short. Apparently, he’s in Cleveland. He’s staying with his brother. “This is going to be a short letter, because at this point you certainly don’t need me. You need space. Your world is crowded enough…My dream showed me the motivation, the karma of us…We will be together again, if not in this world, later on. We were together before this world & we will meet again…I love you completely…enough to perform the ultimate act of love, to let you go. It’s already happened & I didn’t do it…I’ve loved you forever & I will continue to do so; there is no choice in this matter…I feel a universe of gratitude toward you.”
At first I felt sad. I even had tears in my eyes. Then I saw the envelope. It was addressed to “Cori McBride Mitchell”. I thought, what the fuck – I have never used the name “Mitchell” – ever. I have always been “Cori McBride”. Then I reread the letter & I got mad. It was like my eyes were opened. Or unclouded. I wanted to talk to Lance but he wasn’t in so I talked to Angie. She was really glad I saw it – really glad I saw through the words of love to the manipulation beneath it all. I still feel sad – a little – I hate the end of any love affair – especially one that felt as good as that one did. I also feel really stupid.
I started working on my Fourth Step. Lance says that this is one of the most important steps. “Most people never get beyond this point,” he told me. “They start doing their inventory & get depressed about themselves & go back out again. But you’re not going to do that, are you?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not going back out.” But I’m not going to do a crazy-ass inventory, either. I can do one now & I can do another one next year & I can keep doing them. It doesn’t have to be perfect the first time. People go out because they want to do the perfect inventory – so they don’t have to redo it – as a housewife, I know that houses need to be cleaned on a daily basis – some things are weekly or monthly or seasonal – but it’s ongoing. An inventory is no different. I don’t know where people get the idea that you do one inventory & you’re done. In the Big Book, Bill Wilson clearly lays out the whole concept of doing “fearless & moral inventory” of your “character defects” in business terms & I don’t know any business that does one inventory & that’s the end of it. You do yearly inventories – monthly inventories – you keep a close eye on your assets & deficits. Or else you’d be out of business right quick.
Yesterday Teddy drove the motorcycle from Buffalo & met with Lance & Angie & me, of course. I felt it was a very good meeting – a good beginning. After the meeting, Teddy & I went out for a bite to eat. It was so nice riding the bike again! I took him to a Greek place that was nearby – I know he hates seafood. His idea of a fish dinner are fish sticks & French fries that you heat up in the oven. As we were leaving the restaurant, I said, “Maybe we should try again?” The look on his face – well, that’s what he wants – but not the old marriage – a newer better one – well, we’ll have to see. I’m not in any hurry.
I wanted to take him to Manchester-by-the-Sea & show him where I used to live but there wasn’t enough time. I can’t believe I’ve been here over two months & haven’t gotten there once. But I’m not allowed to go that far on my own & it’s not exactly close by.
I know it seems like I hardly ever write anymore. Basically I have to write so much for group that I don’t have time for the diary – or it seems redundant – it’s all about my feelings & my thoughts – just like a diary. But all based around the Twelve Steps & other basic concepts of recovery.
I got a letter from Pat. He’s in a rehab program – in AA – he’s got a sponsor – he’s feeling better. He thanks me. I’m not sure why he was thanking me but whatever.
My heart felt so strange. I had just finished writing about my relationship with Jon. Pat made me feel like I felt with Jon – for good & for bad. When it was good, it was insanely good & when it was bad, it was devastatingly bad. Soon I’ll be getting help from Dr. Barb – a sex therapist – & all these unresolved relationship & feelings & emotions will be resolved – over & done with – put to rest. Hopefully, anyway.
I wrote 3 poems.
I am allowed out more now. I walk all over Lowell & I am getting really strong. I even run a little! I found a great little bookstore & bought The Women’s Spirituality Book, by Diane Stein. I have been reading it all afternoon. It’s really nice to read something that isn’t recovery. But it is – it’s all goddess – you can’t separate spirituality & recovery. & the goddess wants me to be healthy & whole.
I don’t know what to do about Teddy. He writes me these long rambling letters – all in pencil – I really believe he loves me but I don’t know what to do about it. Part of me wishes that he hadn’t come here & met with my counsellors but it’s part of the program & he wanted to do the right thing. He really is trying so hard. I shouldn’t expect perfection – sexual or otherwise – at least not right away! I have dozens of erotic books, novels, poetry, manuals – maybe after we have been together for a while, we can work at synchronizing our sexual patterns – he can become more intuitive, more imaginative & I can become less demanding. There are also other ways to feel like the Goddess. I have come to rely on sex – & performance, dancing & singing – to feel that way – but there are others. It is a matter of imagination, creativity, desire, execution, change. “She changes all she touches & all she touches, changes”. I prayed for change. My affair with Pat was the key – the beginning – the ace. Now am working through the rest of the pack. It all takes time. A never-ending journey.
I tested negative for HIV.
A tough day. I feel so tired out lately – like the flu without the symptoms. I started seeing Dr.Barb – the sex therapist – & I don’t like her. I thought I would but I don’t. I’m not sure why I don’t. There’s something about her – she’s disingenuous. Like she’s not really a woman or something. Maybe she’s not. You never know with some of these women. I feel like she’s a peeping tom – looking through the eyes of a beautifully dressed woman. & she’s really interested in my father. Way more than she is in me. Her first question to me was, “What does it feel like to be the daughter of a famous author?” Like – how do you answer that? I never thought of my father as a famous author. He was just my Daddy. & he wasn’t a famous author until 1970 – he really wasn’t really famous until just before he died – & his death is really what made him a household name. Mom told me that he had to borrow the money to get the dream home in Manchester & he was still in debt when he died – which is why Mom had to sell it off – she said that his fame didn’t do any of us any good at all.
So how does it feel to be the daughter of a famous author? It doesn’t really feel like anything at all. Especially fourteen years after his death – I can barely remember the sound of his voice – only sometimes – like how he said “Low-ell”. If it wasn’t for photographs, I probably would have forgotten what his face looked like long ago. Sometimes I’ll see one of his books & I’ll turn it over to see his face on the back of the dust jacket & it’s always a kind of shock – the 70’s haircut, the tweed jacket – I wonder what he would look like now. Would he have lost his hair or would he have a silver mane? Would his eyes still be even more crinkled along the sides from laughter & time spent in the sun? Would he still be attractive to women of all ages? Would he still have that famous McBride charm?
She wanted to know if I was angry at him for dying drunk behind the wheel & was that why I started drinking. I hear this question all the time, so I was ready for it. “I was drinking long before he died,” I answered. Which isn’t exactly true – it isn’t a lie – but it’s not like I was getting drunk at age fourteen, either – I had some beers now & again. Like all suburban teens. But it shuts them up. All of them – Dr. Barb, Lance, Angie – they all want easy answers. Like I became a drunk & a druggie cuz my dad died drunk behind the wheel with a young woman not his wife when I was sixteen years old. Like it was some kind of abandonment that I can never get over. The truth is – I felt abandoned long before that.
I finished my Fourth Step – it’s a fucking novel – I tried to keep it a short story but it was very tough. I also tried to keep it in outline form – like Bill Wilson says in the Big Book – but once I got writing, I just kept going.
I presented it to Lance & we went over it. He wanted to know how I wanted to “do” my Fifth Step – he asked if I had a sponsor to talk it over with. I have a “temporary sponsor” here in Lowell – a woman named Sharon – but I don’t really want to read my Fourth Step to her. I mean – she’s nice – but I only got her because it was required – not because I felt like we were AA soul mates. Besides – it’s not like I’m staying here – I know that eventually I’m going back to either Buffalo or Cleveland. So there’s no use in getting really close to anyone.
I said I would feel better just doing it with him. So tomorrow, I “take the Fifth” as the saying goes.
Working with Dr. Barb brings up all the old stuff with my stepfather & his ever-present hands. & the Brady Devine & his friends raping me that night in Gates Mills. A lot of this stuff I have pushed so far down into my consciousness that I barely remember any of it & I don’t like remembering it at all. Dr. Barb says that most women alcoholics are victims of sexual abuse & the earlier that we deal with the pain & we start to heal from it, the easier our recovery will be. But most of us want to run from the pain. Well – why the hell not? Once you start remember this stuff – without any drugs to moderate the pain – all you do is think about it – over & over & over again.
I don’t like talking to her about this stuff. She seems like a voyeur.
I want to go home. Even though I am still in love with Pat – I know I am – but there’s no future in that – & I still love Jesse – I always will but there’s even less future there – Teddy still loves me – & I do love him – & I am so homesick – for my kitties & my books – & there’s plenty of AA meetings in Buffalo – I want my own house, my own kitchen, food I can eat – not to have to go to group everyday & meetings everyday & think about nothing but recovery, recovery, recovery! I want to have some fun!
I took off today – without permission – we’re supposed to sign out but I just left. I took the train to Boston & then up the coast to Manchester-by-the Sea. I walked around for a while – I found our house – of course there’s another family living there now, so I didn’t want to hang out – but I wanted to see it. & then I went to the beach. I wore a bikini under my sundress so it would be easy to strip down & lay out in the sun & swim in the ocean. Which is what I did. It was like heaven.
But I CAUGHT HELL when I got back to Blue Star Rehab. Leaving without permission – being gone all day – it was like I had done the worst thing imaginable – even though I have done everything else they have asked me to do & never fucked up once. I had to do a breathalyzer when I came in – even though a fucking moron could have seen that I hadn’t been drinking – & I had to do a urine too & I’ll have to do another one in a few days as well. I just wanted to go see my old home! & go to the beach! & I was never allowed to – I’m 30 fucking years old! – so I thought, fuck it, I’m leaving. I don’t see what the big deal is – I’m fine, everyone can see I’m fine.
They are making a big deal out of me being gone all day yesterday. Both Lance & Angie are on my side but it’s coming from higher up than them. I’ve been here four – almost five – months & you’d think I’d be able to do things on my own – like an adult, not a child. The outpatient clients get to come & go as they please. But those of us who live here – for whatever reasons – we’re treated like we’re mentally ill & can’t be trusted. We have to sign out when we leave & sign back in – there’s a curfew – I’m so tired of this. I wanted to get sober & that’s what I did. I want to go home now.
It is settled. I am going home Friday morning. Nobody is happy about this but I was almost out of insurance anyway so I was going to have to start paying out of pocket or leave – & I don’t have to money to pay out of my own pocket! So now it’s AA all the way!
It’s incredibly hot & humid. Nonetheless, I am packing – I can hardly wait. I’ve been so homesick. Teddy is coming to get me – I don’t know what to think about that. I will try again. But if it doesn’t work, I’m going to leave – I told him this. I am not going to be unhappy & start using again.
I am going to miss it here. I really am. I never thought I would come to love Lowell – such a funny little city – with all the little canals – “Low-ell”. I wonder if I will ever return here.
Four months without a drink – except for those few joints with Jesse when I first left Buffalo in March, I haven’t had any kind of drugs, either. I expected Teddy to have a joint ready for me when I got home, but he said he didn’t have anything & wasn’t I supposed to be sober now? I didn’t know what to think. I am sure he has weed somewhere around here. I never expected to stop smoking weed – not forever – not for the rest of my life.
“The End of the Innocence” is playing – I feel very emotional. I should feel serene & secure in my sobriety but I feel shaky & insecure. Pat’s spirit is with me no less than a dead man. What do I feel? Really? Like I let myself down again. I just wish chemical dependency hadn’t gotten mixed up into it all. How could I remain true to my emotions when I had to dissect every feeling & express it & explain it & put it into its proper little box? Don Henley is mocking me: “How bad do you want it? Not bad enough.” I thought I did. I really did. I still do. Part of me hopes that things don’t work out with Teddy so I’m free – free – free for what? – Pat? I have no real reason to think that we would have a good life together – a happy life – a life filled with motorcycles & camping & joints & shopping like I have with Teddy. No real reason – except love that made me into the Goddess & he into a god – oh here I go again – homesick or not, I have to ask myself – what the hell am I doing here?
The other reason I hope it doesn’t work out with Teddy is so that maybe I can go back to Massachusetts. Not to Lowell but to the coast. I so long to live on the ocean.
Drinking coffee. Thinking about projects – editing & revamping “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Seductress” – maybe change the title – thinking about what poems to send the Buffalo News – making a novel out of the Chaotic Bliss diary – what names for what people & why – how to tell it – diary or third person – plans for a quilt – plans for a recovery sampler – using one of the AA slogans.
Thinking about Pat & trying not to. Maybe this house is charged. Maybe I wove a stronger spell than I ever imagined. Maybe it’s just my addictive/addicted personality coming back. Maybe it never really left.
Last night I was on fire. I could not stop thinking about him. It was like we were together – in the dream realm – floating above consciousness. Teddy was out cold next to me. I moaned – lost in my reverie. Then I sneezed & Teddy woke up. I reached over & touched his cock. Even hard, it seemed small compared to what I was remembering – I told myself to shut up – Teddy ate me out & then fucked me – I was gritting my teeth – I couldn’t believe I had come to this – Oh Pat – I can’t believe this – Me! – merely enduring sex! – after all the crazy kinky sex I’ve had! – what’s the matter with me? – or is it Teddy? Everything he does seems like – textbook –
My heart hurts so intensely I can scarcely believe it.
Yesterday Teddy received a letter from Pat stating that he was not sorry he had an affair with me & that he had never considered Teddy a friend, only a business connection & that Teddy had deep-seated problems that needed attention – especially sexual.
Needless to say, Teddy had a fit. He wrote a letter back to Pat which I had to admit is a really good letter & really to the point – not Teddy’s usual meanderings. Personally – I think Pat is really being an asshole in this case. I mean – what kind of ninth step is that? Who makes an amend & tells the other person that they have “deep-seated problems”? I mean, really?
A hot day. Sunny. Blue skies. A day that demands a beach, cool water & waves. Orange crush & hot dogs.
Money woes mount. Bills that need to be paid before any paychecks arrive – plus money that ought to be in the bank is not there – I have all the deposit slips & returned checks & I can’t figure out that happened – just shit I don’t need to deal with – I mean, who does? But where does the money go to? Is Teddy taking out money I don’t know about? Are there bank withdrawal slips I’m not seeing? He always handled all the money but now we’re supposed to be doing it together. He always did fancy footwork when it came to finances & I’m much more conservative. Maybe not in the way I’ve made my money but in the sense that I got out there & actually made it. & used it to pay bills & buy groceries & then play with it. Teddy plays first & then pays the bills.
Daily headaches & sleepless nights. Ridiculous dreams when I do sleep. Unable to wake up.
Feeling more & more unbalanced. Realizing that drugs & alcohol – especially marijuana – were used to even the scales. I’m wildly up or wildly down.
Reading rituals for Lammas. Thinking of a solitary ritual.
What do I fear most? Impotence – artistic, literary weakness – being a mediocre poet instead of a great one. Unhappiness. My unhappiness in the face of Teddy’s great joy that I have returned. Fear. Fear. Fear. Time to do a Step 6 – yet the words in the book just swim in front of me.
Loneliness. Longing. Want. Want. Overwhelming emotional fatigue.
Last night I had a terrible fight with Teddy about Pat. He simply will not believe that it is over – completely. I admitted that Pat calls the house but I did say that I no longer talk to him. & not because of him – although I didn’t say that – but because of me. Because I want it over. I’m tired of the drama – tired of the soap opera of my marriage. Today – calm discussions. An empty feeling I am trying not to feel. But also the realization that to live with Teddy means no secrets. & I have always had secrets – even when I was a child, I had my secret life. I don’t know if I can be totally open with another person – it’s not the way I am. Another thing – even if it means I never have sex again – no outside lovers. Being married to Teddy means that I have sex only with him – whether or not he wants it – & only when he wants it – the way he wants it. I do not know if I can do that. I just don’t know. I think it’s an awful lot to ask. I mean – if Teddy only wants sex once a month or twice a year or whatever it is – that’s ok for him – but why does that have to be ok for me?
On the other hand, I know where Teddy is coming from because it’s not like Pat is “being a gentleman about it” as Teddy put it – he’s been trying to break up our marriage from the very beginning. I do have to be honest about that – even if Pat isn’t. The thing is – I don’t think Pat even really wants me. He just wants me because Teddy has me. If I left Teddy & went to Pat, then Pat wouldn’t want me anymore.
It’s all so horribly depressing.
I couldn’t wake up this morning. After Teddy left, I went back to bed & had all sorts of dreams – I was at a Grateful Dead concert in Cleveland with Pat – then flying over Lake Erie – I woke up bleeding. I thought – oh, so no wonder I’m so whacked out lately & then I cried for over an hour.
I’m not falling apart – I’m not! I’m keeping it together – barely.
I called Mark Miles this morning. We’re getting together for lunch next week.
Sitting on the porch. A warm, breezy, sunny day. Ribs on the grill. Just out of the shower – clean, smooth, sweet-smelling. I have to continually shoo bees away. Teddy’s in the shower. I’m reading Anaïs Nin.
Almost uncontrollably moody. Suicidal, almost. Wanting to stick a needle into my arm. Thinking – continually – of walking into a bar & ordering a shot & a beer. Feeling hopeless – hopeless.
Teddy’s love debilitates me. He is so happy I have returned. I shrink from causing him pain. Meanwhile I am in so much pain myself I can barely stand it. All I do is think of suicide. I don’t really want to get drunk. It’s too slow. I think of heroin – of faster, more sure ways to waste myself. I just want to end this turmoil.
Evening. Reading Anaïs Nin. Her experiences with Drs. Allendy & Rank are helping me articulate what it is I want out of therapy. She writes, “I felt torn apart by my multiple relationships, & I would have been able to live fully in each one, had enough love & devotion for all of them, but they conflicted with each other.” Also: “I had no in-between existence: only flights, mobility, euphoria; and despair, depression, disillusion, paralysis, shock & a shattering of the mirror.”
I need to learn to live with all this feeling. How to reconcile myself with my various loves & lovers. Deal with the feelings associated with the rape. What to do about Teddy. How to achieve union – or end it.
& then – how to live alone – if need be. How to be happy.
No small order.
Meanwhile – Teddy wants to make love. I honestly don’t think he really wants to make love – he just thinks that I want to so he’s trying to do it for me. & I honestly don’t want to. I have been terribly horny – but I don’t want Teddy – what can I say! It’s not going to work like that!
So last night – Teddy made love to me. Or he tried. It was a horrible mistake. I had to grit my teeth – Teddy was eating me & running his hand up & down my body & I wanted to push him away – I had to involve myself in an elaborate rape fantasy just to cum – because he wasn’t going to stop until I did & I couldn’t cum any other way – I felt so shitty. Then he fucked me & the tears were rolling down my face & as soon as he finished, I was sobbing – ! I want to feel like the Goddess again! I want that fire – that finesse – that excellence again! Oh fuck – what am I going to do?
I’d rather have no sex than bad sex.
I haven’t been this depressed in a long time. And I have a terrible headache.
Spent all day at the Erie County Fair. We had a wonderful time. The only time I was upset & frustrated was when Teddy refused to go to on the Sky Ride with me – it’s a double Ferris Wheel – because of his fear of heights – a fear I admit I totally do not understand – especially sitting in a steel bench with a bar across you lap isn’t exactly unsafe – not like scaling the side of a mountain or even climbing a ladder – but whatever.
I saw Bard Ellison there. He was selling Encyclopedia Brittanicas. We talked a few minutes. He’s going to law school.
Writing poetry. Joni Mitchell on the stereo.
I cannot sleep. I just finished watching a documentary about the Beatles. I am reading Anaïs Nin & having a glass of milk. It has been pouring. Now the rain falls lightly, almost a drizzle. It’s getting windy. Across the street, my neighbor’s wind chimes ring hauntingly.
Something happened to me. Changed in me. In my mind I am moving out. I have been dreaming & in all my dreams, I am leaving. When I am awake, I am making a mental inventory – what I will take & what I will leave behind.
Pat called this morning. He got on my nerves – telling me that I should just turn my back on Teddy & my life here – “Just do it,” he said, like it wasn’t going to cause Teddy or even me any pain to leave – & to leave my books & my things behind – “they’re really not important” – funny how my things aren’t important – that I should just buy a bus ticket & go to Cleveland with just a backpack of clothing & live with him. Yeah, right! That’s a good one! I can see how that will turn out!
Besides, I just can’t do that. I’m not ready. I want to leave Teddy but I’m just not ready yet. Maybe I’ll go to Cleveland but maybe I’ll stay right here. My vision of the future shows a small apartment of my own – maybe on the West Side – or maybe Central Park area – with my books & my plants & my cats – alone. No man in the house. AA – a coven for spiritual work – & therapy so I get better. Working on my poems & my novel.
A nice quiet change – just enough to make my life better – slow change – sober change. Not a revolution – which is what Pat wants. I don’t want revolution – I want evolution. I know it won’t be painless either way but I think my way is the better way. It’s the right way. Pat wants what he wants when he wants it – which is right now.
I went over to Shera’s the other night. It was nice – sitting in the semi-darkness on the porch – sipping herbal tea & talking. I told her all about my troubles with Teddy & how I still longed for Pat & even Jesse. “Have any of these men asked you what it is you want, what is good for you, what your needs are?” she asked. & of course the answer is no. From Teddy, all I hear about are his needs, his wants, his hurt feelings. From Pat, all I hear about is what he thinks is good for me & how I should go about doing that & how soon I should be doing it. Both of them are selfish as toddlers.
I haven’t heard from Jesse at all. Maybe that hurts most of all. I know he’s back from Atlanta. He must be really working a good program – he hasn’t called Teddy for weed & he hasn’t called me at all.
It was wonderful over at Shera’s. A feminine/feminist household. A beautiful altar, right out in the open, no need to hide it or camouflage it as something else. Artwork everywhere. Calm, peace, serenity. Exactly what I need.
Another thing she said that struck a deep chord: “If Pat can tell you to just run off & leave Teddy & your home without a second glance, that doesn’t say much about his ethics. You can’t run away from your responsibilities.”
“Pat did,” I said, laughing – but it really isn’t a laughing matter – & really, he left a trail of creditors behind him – lots of people wanting to find him for various reasons. Another thing – he keeps telling me that he’s going to find a good job selling cars but he’s never made money selling cars before. I know that all the money he did make went to drugs but he wasn’t selling many cars – who the hell is? I was feeding him before we became lovers – he was over all the time, wanting meals. & now he says he’s going to make a load of money & support me? He says he going to make a grand next year. I would just like to see that before I go down there. I’ve had enough of nickel & diming in my life.
& when you think about it – a grand isn’t that much money. I was making that in one week when I was dancing.
How I hate Sundays. Too long – too boring. No money. No joints. A big breakfast & a lot of dishes. Feeling fat & ugly.
Later on, we’ll go to Doug & Danielle – they’ve moved – & swim a little. Until then – reading & more reading.
Newspaper full of Persian Gulf crisis. Already bored with it. Tired of hearing about it.
Evening. We went to Doug & Danielle’s. I had a nice swim but I really wanted a beer – really pissed & depressed that I can’t even have one. I really want to blow off the entire program. Actually I want it both ways. I want my 6-month pin but I want a beer too. I don’t want to get drunk – just a beer! Just enjoy a little buzz.
In tears all day. I’ve been really struggling lately. It feels awful to be so depressed. I have to get to more meetings – I need friends in the program – a local sponsor. I can’t go on fighting like this. Wanting a drink & unable to have one. Unhappy with life.
I’ve been to meetings every day. Monday night – a woman’s meeting – only four blocks away! Tuesday – a meeting at UB. Wednesday – my home group. I may or may not go to one tonight but I am going to one tomorrow night with Marie J., the secretary of Achievement Group. She said she’d give me rides to other meetings too. Things are looking up.