Two days.
So, I read the first few pages of Eat, Pray, Love and all I can think about is first: this woman is rather funny and, second: she was, well, my age when she wrote this (wait, 2006 . . . I was 32. Ok. Three years older than me). What was I doing then? What was I doing when I was 35, for that matter? What am I doing now, now that I'm 3 years older than when she wrote the book?
Nothing, I tell myself. She wrote a best seller, and I, well I work at a steak house. I'm a waiter.
Perhaps, what I'm lacking here is faith and a healthy respect for my alcoholism and sobriety. One is a killer and the other is a God-send, a life saver.
So, 2006: The Red Sox won the World Series. I did a "version" of MacBeth (The M Game. Just in case some one stumbles across this blog and gives a shit). I was seeing the woman who is now my fiancee. I was still getting drunk a lot. Though, the worst was yet to come.
But, how far have I come? Despite my best efforts of selfishness, my fiancee's and my relationship has been repaired. I'm sober. I'm helping men get and stay sober. However, it seems to me, they would have gotten sober with or without me. So, certainly, I can make no claim on their sobriety. I guess all I can do is thank God for sending them to me for they are my teachers. Trying to help the lost find their way home (as I was shown the way home) is all I can do.
So, before I get even further off topic and stray into deep, yawn-inducing self-reflection and self-pity I'll make a note of gratitude for what I have, what I've come up against and the people who are now in my life. Oh, and nothing happens in God's world by mistake. That's a good one. Time to get ready for work.
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