Love Under Will Part 3

twenty eight days away…….

I think that’s what kept me from getting help. I knew if I fessed up to being an addict/alcoholic I would be sent somewhere like Hazelden. I had this notion that my life wouldn’t or couldn’t run without me, and that if I wasn’t there to oversee it, the sky would fall. I was riding a merry-go-round sent lovingly from hell. At first it seemed to move at a safe speed, but then one day I looked up and the rotten sucker was spinning out of control; there would be no stepping off of this freaky-ass carnival ride. My addiction like a twisted carnie, refused to pull the gears and I couldn’t find the will to make my legs jump. My addiction wanted me dead, yet it had convinced me that I would die without it.

But the morning I turned over my dope, the plastic horses faded and that god-awful music stopped. I dropped my head in shame and said…..help me.

That was the easy part. As I sat in the back seat of the car, being driven to my new existence by my mother and my husband, I started to feel like a dog on the way to his vet clinic. I felt my arms and legs start reaching for the door frame….please don’t make me go in…..I’ll be good……leave me my testicles…..I won’t hump the couch anymore. I kept thinking that treatment might be a bit much and about the sacrifices that would have to made in my absence and about a future without my trusted tools. Like I said…….my disease wants me dead and its always talking.

However, You can’t save your face and your ass at the same time…..