The format on this might be odd again because Blogger has a new update, but that's the adventure of any user interface changes.

It's been almost a year since I stopped drinking, as October 4th was my last day at my old job and rehab started October 7th. I was promised a lot of things that I had emphatically found not true the last couple of times I seriously gave stopping a go, but it never panned out.

Whenever I stopped drinking, my whole body hurt. My mood was ranging from suicidal to mostly depressed. I was promised over and over again that it would get better as one month passed, then three months. I was told that I was still healing, that this would get so much better. I wasn't sleeping and work was a constant stressor, along with all of the "recovery" activities that only exhausted me further to the point where I actually fell a couple of times because I think I hit a microsleep point. Finally, after 9 months one time and three months a second time I gave up and went back to drinking, mostly to quell the bodily pain and to finally get reliable sleep (yes, I know it's not proper sleep, but better than nothing).

My liver was less and less able to handle resumption of drinking though, so last year I decided to give quitting one more try. My shrink's theory was that it can take up to a year before my emotions, physical health, and sleep patterns reached a new, better equilibrium so I indulged him. Circumstances aligned this time with the pandemic, no job, and relocation to my parents house to enforce sobriety, and I've been sleeping 9-12 hours a night with the help of trazodone.

I still hurt; my knees cause pain whenever I'm standing or walking. I can't even dream of crouching or kneeling without needing help getting up. Other aches and pains come and go but my knees are a daily struggle. It's not getting better.

My mood is still mostly depressed and there's no sign of improvement there either. The situation doesn't help either as the family dynamics that gave me trouble growing up have, if anything, intensified to make me wish I wasn't here anymore since I don't seem to matter. I know they don't mean to come across that way but they always do.

In short, a year is not the answer. I suppose it's time to try the doctor merry-go-round again as I've resigned myself to being stuck here for the foreseeable future, but it's time to let go of any illusions that the things that led me to drinking will fade. This is my life now, so I might as well get used to the new normal that just sucks, and live with the pain.