Sober. 24 hours in. The tears have started already. Now that the feelings are no longer being dampened down by my expensive cocktails of doom. It was longer last time before the avalanche of guilt, regret and anger came flooding over me like a tsunami. It’s controllable for now. I will not seek downers to control it. No anti-depressiants. That’s not getting clean. Thats mixing my drinks.

There is no euphoric high yet fron a sense of achievement. There is none. I could fall any time. The Monster is still in the drawer. He stills here. He knows how tough this is going to be.

I have started my round of apologies. For what they are worth. 2 a day. Must not do all at once. Must stretch out the humiliation. Must pay. I can’t make amends but I can say Sorry and mean it from my heart. It’s my head that’s the problem. A constant fight between good and twisted when I allow myself to be weak and useless. When I get lazy with myself and think I’m fine, and certainly not as bad Bert, or Rob or whoever. They got nothing on me.

I will feel much worse before I feel better. I know that. I will crave and I will cry. I will beat myself up and wish the people I let down would let me make it to up to them knowing that won’t happen. I will sweat and I will shake. The sneezing fits clearing out the last of my poison remind me of the damage I’ve done to my body, my mind and my life. And the lives of others. I will have a come down the size of a continent that may last for weeks.

I will reach out but there will be no one there. No one but me. It’s my fight. No one can and should do this for me. It’s my mess to deal with. If there is no one there it’s because I’ve pushed them all away. But boy do I need a hand right now.

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