I don’t know if I’m the first person to do this. Abandoning sobriety after three years and not calling it a relapse and not calling my sponsor. By the way, my sponsor sucks! I’m drinking, aren’t I? I quit my home group three weeks ago, and the most she could say was, “I really don’t think its a good idea that you quit meetings. Have you thought about finding one near your house, like that church with the red door?” Are you kidding me? What the fuck kind of sponsor doesn’t freak out when her sponsee quits meetings after three years? Mine, apparently.

I certainly doubt I’m the first to do this. Of course when you make the radical decision to abandon a rock-solid paradigm (i.e. I. Am. An. Alcoholic), you feel like the first and only one.

My decision to end my sobriety was not spontaneous, it was oddly well-planned. In AA they teach you that the disease is waiting outside doing pushups while you are experiencing sobriety. That whole idea always bothered me and now I know why. First of all, it was a bunch of people spouting things they had heard other people say, which I can smell a mile away. Secondly, how the fuck am I supposed to enjoy sobriety when I have an “insidious” disease living inside my head that is waiting for one wrong move so it can take over and kill me. Kind of reminds me of the magnet that Ironman had to wear inside his heart to keep the shrapnel at bay. I’m pretty sure my disease did pushups for a while and then, true to my own nature, it decided that doing pushups sucks and being pulled by a stubborn dog on a leash is workout enough. The disease got lazy. so I pounced.

Not having any alcohol in my body for almost 3 1/2 years, however, is an amazing learning experience. I learned that it wasn’t the alcohol that made me do crazy thing like have sex on yahoo chat at work (while drinking) (fun by the way), its just that I am incessantly and incorrigibly creative.

I also was finally able to get back with Jake, the crazy texan I met on FB back in 2008, who was the subject of many late night conversation. Five days ago, we were having hot, sober phone sex. (yeah, the word sober cancels out the word hot, doesn’t it?  Hot phone sex. Yes, it happened. a lot. (he didn’t get married in case you’re wondering) (but that’s another blog) (actually I have no idea why he didn’t get married).

I think a lot. I thought a lot without the aid of alcohol over the last three years. I’d like to say that sobriety is overrated, but its not. However, like taking antidepressants, it is not meant to last forever. At least that is my personal experience, strength and hope.

I am a lot of former things: my two favorites are former christian and former alcoholic. Real conversation starters. Especially here in the bible belt.

Its really hard to put the Jake situation into words without sounding like a complete weirdo. We met on the internet in 2008, carried on for a while, I went to rehab, contacted him three years later, he was about to get married to his childhood love, which leads to my last post six months ago. After that, I forgot about him and then he contacted me again in August, which I promptly ignored. Three weeks later, while thinking about drinking, I decided that while I was considering drinking, I might as well contact that crazy boy who never quite seems to disappear from my life. So I did. And he wasn’t engaged or married and neither was I. And here’s where it gets weird…

We had a thing. a real thing. for nine days. Then I ended it. It was getting too painful because I wanted him. All of him. But I also didn’t know if I wanted him because how can you know if you want someone until you actually meet them? But the ending  is sometimes just the beginning. Especially when it comes to me because I tend to end things in the height of their passion. I also wonder why I’m prefer being the aggressor. Or maybe I only remember when I’m the aggressor…for obvious reasons.

Let me tell you how weird my life is. Its 2011 and I am sitting at the same computer that I sat at 3 1/2 years ago, drinking cheap wine, waiting for Jake to come online. Reg is in the bed downstairs and its a school night, and I can’t sleep.

The facts are the same, but everything is different. First of all, i have no shame, only frustration and wanting. But that seems to be a common theme with me. I guess I’ll just embrace my desire for all things. At this point, those things are alcohol and jake. Once I stop fearing the wanting, I won’t feel the fear of taking action that leads to more wanting. It is desire that propels us forward in life. So all wanting  and pursuit of desire is good.

When I go, I go all the way. Maybe its because I believe the end isn’t really the end. Maybe its because I’m compelled to do what I want to do and experience the full expression of my personality. Maybe its because I’m really hot and I want to experience myself as a desirable, powerful human being. Can’t fault a girl for that. I’ve always been that way, very committed to myself.

So the real question is the one I’ve been asking my whole life: Can I be fully myself in every moment? Throwing myself against the mercy of the world, believing it will protect me from ultimate catastrophe?  Is it because the very essence of me evoked such rage in my caregivers when I was a child?

Why do I want to love something that doesn’t love me? Is it because I can love without fear that the other will not turn around and try to chain me down? If he showed up here… I would probably be mortified. I would probably hate him. So I am driven to chase him to subconsciously keep him at bay? Why am I compelled to that? Is it the very nature of love that one side always scare away the other? I want to experience myself as the aggressor? Not always. One thing I can say for myself is that I’m unpredictable. I don’t even know what i’m going to do next!

And so here I sit, staring at his name. Knowing that the yellow circle means that we are connected once again through the computer screen. A distant connection that became so palpable in such a short time. And years have passed since those days we spent together and I wonder why I didn’t just go visit him back when I had shed every ethic and every rule that kept me on the straight path. Was I under some illusion that I still had things under control? That Reg didn’t know what I was doing? Of course he knew. I should’ve gone all the way when I had the chance. We should’ve realized every fantasy and every dream. Now its too late. I’m halfway sane, Jasmine isn’t real, and Jake is engaged to his true love.  How could I still feel this way after all these years? How could a simple idea conversation take me back to that point of abandon so quickly?

He wrote a song for her. A beautiful song. It embodied all of the pain she went through and then inflicted on him. His pain was real, hers wasn’t.

“Beth, now is the time to show them your real character.”

An AA friend told me that when I shared my sob story about not getting the job. And it clicked. It dropped right into that empty, disappointed of me and fit just right. She told me things would work out if I went back and finished out my contract with a good attitude. Believe me, that was not my original plan, but it sounded so right when she said it.

With those words settled deep inside my troubled psyche, I returned to the company and gave it absolutely everything I had and topped every day off with my signature smile. It wasn’t difficult because I still enjoyed myself there despite the floating deadline that was to be my as-yet-undetermined last day. I even often offered to train the person they had hired to replace me. Talk about high road.

So that went on for about a week and a half. Working there, but not really working there. Having to endure emails about the upcoming Christmas party, complete with Secret Santa drawing and a potluck dish sign-up. This bigger person was not me, but I played her in real life.

Then, a big break. One of the attorneys in our satellite office paid me a visit at the main office and told me that she was lobbying hard to have a position created at her office so that I could work for her. It felt good to be wanted. It was only going to be part-time and therefore I wouldn’t be able to take it, I told her. But it soothed my beaten ego.

Today was not a good day. I didn’t get the job I wanted. The job I’ve been working at for two months. The job that everyone said I would surely get because I’m so well-liked here. The job I was told to apply for if I wanted to keep working at my own job. That job.

And the worst part is not that I don’t have the job. Its that I have to face my demons of insecurity that arise when I attempt to look for new jobs. Somehow I’m a college graduate with no experience in anything. At least not anything that I want to make a career of. And I’m smart! I’m really smart and interesting and easy to get along with. I work hard and I smile a lot. I’m sweet to everyone. And now I’m throwing a pity party. You’re invited.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. But I don’t have to like it. I want to have someone to blame. I want to hate every single person at the company. Especially the ones that said “they really wanted me.” I was told not to take it personally, but that’s a little impossible. I take everything personally!

So here I sit. Not sure how to feel. Glad I don’t have kids to support or a mortgage to pay. Wishing I could just get hired by reg’s mom to take care of every detail of his life. Like I already do. But I’d do it a lot more cheerfully if I were getting paid. I have this feeling that my perfect life is mine for the taking, but its blocked by some subconscious flaw that I’m going to have to explore and heal, which means facing myself, which I work very hard to avoid.

How come there are so many fucked up people in the world making money? Can’t I just be one of those? Somehow its never been that easy for me. I feel trapped inside my rushing brain.

So I’m sitting here, still wearing my scarf, cocky the cat on my lap, picking at my lip and jumping around the internet from hrblock.com to tumblr.com. The emotional void is empty again.

I’m told I’m a good writer. I agree that I have a knack for putting sentences together and can write a clever piece or two. But I’m at a job that I love for its low-impact work schedule and the occasional creative challenge . In short, I’m a slacker and I have a slackass job. I’m not using my talents and I’m completely over-qualified. (At least I didn’t go to nursing school to gain medical knowledge to work in a “medical office.” Yes, my coworker did that.)

I have had times in my life when I feared I would be stuck in a dead-end situation (i.e. renting room in a house occupied by its russian owner and a prostitute). The owner of the house kept accusing me of stealing the canned goods out of her kitchen, which was secured with a padlock when she wasn’t in it. But I got out. Similar situations (ahem…relationships), have seemed hopeless, but I escaped.

I am always torn between wanting to feel content and wanting to find something better. I think its safe to say, at this point, I need a more satisfying job. I deserve something better.  I should be making more money. However, I am grateful for my current situation in that it involves steady income.

Having said all that, I’m off to find my new career. (kind of an abrupt ending, I know, but I have to go to the bathroom).