Breathing my Mind into Your Face

Almost six a.m. on a saturday. I’m drinking a little yerba mate tea for the first time. If it’s good enough for Andrew Huberman and the Argentine soccer team then it should keep me popping and locking. Damn, that shit’s pretty tasty. 

Yesterday was good. I like feeling the burn. Dripping sweat and hoping I’m not having a heart attack at an Orange Theory class is a great 2nd step of my day after my 7am AA meeting. It gives me serenity to go about the rest of my activities. There was a new recruit in our AA meeting yesterday fresh out of rehab. We spoke of our powerlessness over alcohol. I knew I was powerless for a long time. I just allowed it and lied about it. Having a few never brought me much joy. I always wanted to go as hard and long as possible until I passed out. I’d use drugs to help me keep the booze flowing while still retaining consciousness. I don’t recommend. Not only did it make me annoying to be around, it was hell on my body. Brushing my teeth in the morning made me gag. If a few days passed where I wasn’t drinking, my body would feel amazing because it was so unused to being in its non-alcohol saturated state. Then of course I’d promptly try to amplify that good feeling with alcohol and the cycle would continue. My wife pushed me to get help even though she knew she’d lose a drinking buddy. That’s love man. She set up the rehab and told me to go. I would have never thought of going to an AA meeting on my own. Much too scary. I don’t ask for help. I laid on top of her yesterday when she was reading on the couch and told her how much I loved her, how beautiful she is, what a good and true person she is. Sometimes she has this glow in her face that blows my mind. I’m talking some real cherubic beauty there. Very cool.