"Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters"
I spend so much of the day watching the clock. Spending my time, like it's a currency. Checking to see if it's a 'decent' enough time for a drink. I try to wait until noon every day. Most days I'm successful. It starts when I wake up – usually 3am, though lately it's been earlier.
Watching the clock.
This morning, watching the clock as I'm nearly out of cigarettes. The store doesn't open until 7am, so I'm dividing them to fit perfectly into that wedge of time.
Afternoon arrives, and so does the drink. Levels drop – in the bottle, and in my mood. Anxiety arrives, watching the clock in comparison to how much wine is left in the bottle.
Should I go to the store and get more? They close in an hour.
I'm counting the days until I leave for recovery, like a child waiting for Christmas morning, hoping to get exactly what I've asked for. What I've wanted all along.
Days are beginning to feel like months.
I wonder how time will feel, unplugged and dropped into an entirely new life.
I've decided I'm not bringing a watch with me.
The word itself demands that I give it attention, placing landmarks and permissions at certain numbers and angles, assigning false structure to my day. Clock watching, for instruction on what to do next – how much time I have left today, and how much has been spent.
Times of day turn into triggers.
Two little hands, adding up all the time wasted, not waiting for anyone – they just keep ticking. Speeding up. Slowing down.
Time is priceless.
Waste it wisely.
Sober, alcohol free recovery blogger.
Photographer. Writer. Ex-Blackout Artist.
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