Day 312
People were impressed with me as a teenager because of my strong compass; right was right and wrong was wrong, and it was an image I was happy to build. Even now, I find myself wanting to be the best at recovery. I find myself believing that if I fail — or maybe even misstep — that I will instantly swing back to some extreme version of the dark side. Living in both worlds was the antithesis to everything I've ever been or thought I was, so I have a hard time believing I could ever do that again; it feels like it's either this life of recovery or that life of giving up and giving in. Every time there's a glitch with my wife in our rebuilding, it feels like it's going to be the straw that breaks the back of our recovery together. It's frightening. I sit in meetings with guys that say they have two or three days of sober time, and I'm embarrassed at the pride I feel when I say I'm now over three hundred days clean. I think that comes from someplace in me that says I could not face them — or anyone — if I can't keep my streak going. I imagine a basketball team that didn't win a game for a couple of years, suddenly turning it around, and now they are on a winning streak that feels like it will never end, but that doesn't seem reasonable. This is not a game. It's my life. I don't want to find out what failure looks like and feels like, but neither does it feel reasonable to not be prepared for imperfection. But that sounds like I'm laying the foundation for failure, and I know in every fiber of my soul that I am not doing that, but why else would one prepare for defeat?
–JR