A potpourri of angst...

Sad to say, but another friend has decided do more research about drinking. Some rather rude people would tell her she is having her misery gladly refunded. Well, maybe she didn't belong with us in the meetings, guys. Maybe she will be able to control it and drink like a lady, like Holly Golightly in her Givenchi gown and hat, all elegant and svelte. And maybe she will wind up looking like a rough version of Ma Kettle, too. Life is, at best, a crap shoot. You can load the dice, and it will still come up snake eyes sometimes. And sobriety, with all its myriad gifts, is an inside job. I have been cheering my friend along, you know, rah, rah, rah, surrender! Rah, rah, rah, let go! Whenever that happens, it is an indication that I am more engaged with her recovery than she is. And that never bodes well. So I spent a few moments feeling sad and kind of depleted. Today, I will take care of my sobriety with my favorite circle of wise women out in the wilds of west county, where there is warmth and healing happening. I find that an apt antidote to the rudeness of life that happens pretty much every day. Oh, and my presentation that I was all nervous about, that was supposed to happen yesterday, didn't. It is up first thing this morning. I stopped worrying after seeing the few that went before me. I am going to be fine here. Well, there's the bottom line. All around me may flounder, but I am still sober, still afloat. Miracles happen.