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I’m a bit of a problem child in the 12-Step support group I’ve attended on a weekly basis since I got sober in July of 2019. Or at least that’s how I feel.

I know, I know. It’s wrong to focus on how I feel. That’s what got me wrapped up in addiction in the first place, right?

See, I’m at that part in the steps where you dig into all your “character defects” and learn how self-centered and self-pitying you are, and realize that the fierce, strong-willed, independent spirit you’ve prided yourself on your entire life was less an asset than a liability, and even though you probably never would’ve made it through school or kept a job — or quit drinking — without it, it has also helped to make you a maladjusted adult who struggles to have faith, practice humility, find peace and balance, and carve out a truly productive place in society.

The hyper-sensitivity that fuels your creativity and makes you good at writing also gets you hopelessly stuck up in your own head, tangled in a web of doubt and fear — which are all forms of self-absorption, BTW, and self-absorption happens to be the root of your addiction and the thing keeping you from living a fulfilling life.

Also, the only way out of the web is more meetings, prayers explicitly written out in the official 12-step literature, and service commitments within “the fellowship.”

This makes sense to me intellectually, but something in me just won’t accept it all as gospel. That damn individuality, that self-will, just won’t go away and let me grow like I’m supposed to!

Not to be flip, but if you want to stay on the path of recovery, sidestepping the inevitable landmines of temptation lying in wait here, there, anywhere…might I suggest heading in the direction of higher education?

I can think of no better way to keep yourself accountable than to air your dirty laundry in front of a grad school admissions board, presenting your own battle with alcoholism as a reason you’d be a great fit for their program, and discussing with great passion and emotion your goal of taking your Masters degree and using it to help other addicts change their lives.

No offense to you internet friends — all three of you — to whom I pour out my sober heart and soul every week on this blog, but I could easily just ghost you and “go back out” without much of a brouhaha. It’s a lot more difficult to say “🤬 it” to Doctors and Professors who just heard your story and thought it warranted acceptance into their university’s Class of…(hamster wheel in head turning)…2024?

On Thursday, I overslept and missed my regular weekly recovery meeting.

The meeting starts at 6 PM.

Such is the surreal world I’m living in at 16 months sober. I’m not sure how it happened, but my schedule got completely out of whack —waking up and doing work at 2AM has become the norm — and during the hours I’m actually awake, my energy levels have plummeted so drastically that I literally cannot wait to climb back in bed. I find myself eating dinner at 3PM, drinking “Sleepytime” tea while the school buses are unloading kids outside my window, and thinking it’s morning when my husband comes in the bedroom to announce he’s done with work.

I’m tired, you guys. More tired than I can ever remember feeling.

I think maybe all the fighting has taken its toll.