Ranting Froggy Panties

I spend quite a bit of time reading others' blogs and one that I have been reading is like looking into a mirror of my life. It is incredibly eerie, sad, and surreal. You go through life and situations and think that you are the only one in the world experiencing what you are only to find out that you are not UNIQUE!! Imagine that. I have found that in recovery, there is NOTHING unique about any of us. Our personalities, maybe, but as far as what we've done, how much, to who, etc, it has all been done before and of course more and better. I finally quit trying to compare myself to everyone and just accepted that I'm not special. I never have been never will be.

Anyhow, I actually had a pretty good job interview today. Keeping fingers crossed!! I can't go without a job much longer. Day after day, I sit, scouring the want ads online and in the newspaper, looking, hoping, praying only to be disappointed once again. I'm destined to live my life in loneliness, in my pajamas, curled up under the blankets hiding away from reality, because reality is too hard to face. When I first got sober I had all these visions of good job, paying my own bills, and independence with my beautiful angel of a daughter that I haven't seen in almost three years now. Oh how each of those visions have crashed and burned only to take a little more of my heart, my soul, my self with them. Each day that passes is another day to remember as a failure. I wake up every morning with hopes of something new and exciting only to be plummeted back under the covers by mid-afternoon, cowering and wondering when this will end, if it will EVER end. I'm afraid to even hope of getting this job because it is inevitable that the call will come (or no one will ever call) and they will say, "Thank you for your interest, but we have decided on another candidate." Then he will come home from HIS crappy job once again and tell me how my credit is almost up, I'm not trying hard enough, or whatever tangent the alcohol has sent him on that day. Even with him in the next room, I am alone because he is not actually here. He is only here in body. In mind and spirit he is off, floating in a haze of alcohol somewhere, lost in his guitar and wishing for death. I hate that. The smell, the look, the feel of the atmosphere when the alcohol takes over. Too many days and nights have been ruled by that smell, that haze, which is why I stay away, tucked safely away in my bed, under the covers, again, away from reality. I'm beginning to wonder what reality really is. I'll tell you what I want for my reality, him to be sober, my daughter to be in my arms so I can tell her I didn't leave her, and a purpose. That's it. I want a purpose. Endless days wondering around with no purpose is what is killing me, minute by agonizing minute. I think I will go now and try to sleep away some of those minutes and hours. That seems to be the best remedy for me, then I don't have to think or feel or face anything at all. Just the images in my mind as I fall into deep, fitful sleep. Goodnight.