Tuesday, March 06, 2012

work in progress

It really is just a coffe cup, but right now, in this moment, it feels like a symbol of how I manage to fuck things up.

Earlier today Momma picked me up from my apartment so that I could go to her house to hang out with the kids and more importantly help continue the everday training that comes with a new puppy.

I had laundry to bring as well as my recycling to dump in her bin, and I brought a couple of empty boxes that can go in her basement and not clutter my rather cozy home place.

Shortly before she arrived I'd made myself a cup of coffee which was in the cup she'd gotten for me a couple of years ago. I loved that cup, thrown by another friend who does some really fun pottery. The cup was somewhat special both as a gift from Momma and as a piece created by a friend. It's worth mentioning the coffe as it was roasted by another friend and is really good stuff.

I set my coffee on the trunk of the car as I brought my load out and placed it in the car, the load making three trips carrying stuff followed by one to turn off the light and lock the door. Then I joined Momma as she spoke for a moment with a friend and neighbor at my apartments.

As soon as we arived at Momma's I dumped the recycling into her cart (curbside, single stream ftw) and brought in the laundry and boxes. Then I thought of my coffee and realized immediately that it was gone, but more importatly the cup is now very likely no longer a cup but a few shards laying on the ground. 

And right now, in his moment, it adds itself to a list of my failures, a list my brain makes and keeps up to date, a list that is likely full of things I could not have done differently, things that were never my fault, little unimportant things that don't effect anything but my mood.

But that's how my brain works too often, and I've given it some fuel by drinking two nights that should have been spent otherwise. Instead of remembering the work toward changing the habit that is the goal I focus on a failure. It's kinda how I roll.

But I'm working on that too.

I'll finish by adding that the above was written several hours ago. I didn't post then as it needed editing, and I wasn't willing to do it then. Since then I've hung out with the kids, cooked supper, enjoyed a Coke float and some popcorn, and watched a movie. I was also able, quite a while ago, to put my minor loss in perspective.

I've also thought more about the entire issue which is a combination of things, two of which involve depression and drinking and my proneness (is that a word?) to both. It should also be noted that my dismal financial situation and my unhealthy approach to it was a bit of a trigger.

I know what needs to happen, and the beginning part is to go back to not drinking as much, which I did well with for a while, in a sense. And I know that the beer itself isn't the issue. The problem is that I pour so much of it into myself when I do drink. So the question eventually has to become, can I drink reaonably, or do I need to consider more drastic measures?

I really don't want to not be able to drink a beer when I want, so how do I not want so much?

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