Like Being Dead, But Without the Commitment

“Drunkenness is temporary suicide.”

– Bertrand Russell, The Conquest of Happiness

I actually slept until 8am. For the first time in months (maybe years?) I think it’s mental and emotional exhaustion – all that evil overthinking. I was making great-ish progress on the packing front yesterday, then hit a wall (of bottles) and laid down for what was to be a 20 minute nap, that turned into 4 hours. Woke up, managed to polish off a bottle of wine, then back to bed. Hubs invited friends over, and the last thing I felt like doing was being social. With them, or myself. 

Sleep is just like drinking – the more of it you have, the more of it you want. It’s the perfect avoidance tactic for everything.

Like being dead, but without the commitment.

Which makes it just like drinking.

Today is the last day of my life that I am having a drink.

Or drinks. Or bottles of wine. Unless I drink on the plane (yes, this scenario has already crossed my mind many times since the day I booked my room at detox – my flight is too early to drink at the airport, otherwise I probably would. Just another example of how I build my life and plans around the bottle).

Today is the last day of my life that I am having a drink.

I need to stop thinking of it as going without. As if something will be missing from my life. There will be so many things missing, in all honesty. I will be missing the sense of being absolutely out of control. I will be missing trying to get through the day dragging regret behind me. I will be missing my lack of confidence that I turn to drinking to replace. I will be missing the guilt I wake up with every morning that bubbles up throughout the day and puts me to sleep every night.

Not missing. Missing is the wrong word. Missing sounds sad. As in, “I miss you”.

There will be an absence. 

And I’m going to do my best to replace it with things that serve me. Picking up things I left behind: art, music, writing, friendships. 

Back to my roots. It reminded me of this photo I did 6 years ago. Definitely one of the weirder ones I’ve done. I’ve never understood it, to be honest. Not sure if I’m being born from, or to, the tree. But even then I felt that hollow in my gut. The absence. The gut feeling that something was missing and preventing me from being whole.

Wanting to be alive, but being caught somewhere in between.

Back To My Roots

I’m not even sure where this post is going. On my second cup of coffee, now, I’m just starting to wake up from that rare, deep sleep.

And there it is.

Finally waking up.

That’s where I am on this journey. Despite usually only getting 3 or so hours of sleep a night, I’ve really been asleep for years.

Like being dead, but without the commitment.

I’m eager to see what the morning brings.


  1. This is one of your most revealing posts. Shawn, if you don’t mind tomorrow, the day of your flight to detox, I’d like to do a post of my own pointing people to your WordPress site and asking them to please pray for you.

    Your posts have had an impact on my life. I always question a lot of things, particularly about my Christian faith…What is true? and what has just been passed off as “true” by man? That sort of thing. I’ve come to the point in my life that I believe that whatever is true about Jesus and the Gospel must be true for ALL people, especially those that are hurting.

    This image that you have created and used on this post, like so many of the others, is about hurting.

    My perspective is also from that of a hurting child because I think that no matter how old we may be, so much of what goes on with us as adults is because of that hurting child inside of us. We are always carrying that hurting child around with us, even if hidden (protected) from the world.

    Though I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but it’s often said that God creates each of us with a hole inside of us that only He can fill. This is a perfect visual representation of that, whether you consciously intended it or not. Seriously.

    I have read posts that have argued “you can’t be an Alcoholic Christian” and “there’s no such thing as a Gay Christian” and on and on and on. The reaction by most is, “Well if God hates me, then I hate God.”

    I really don’t think that’s how Jesus sees us though. He doesn’t label us. He never counts us as hopeless. He just sees us as hurt and helpless children.

    Anyway, that may be the theme of my next few graphic posts, I’m not sure. Your posts really make me think.

    I definitely want to do a “Post Without A Graphic” to point people to your WordPress site and to ask that they pray for you. (A “Post Without A Graphic” is sort of a twist for a blog with “Graphics” in the title, don’t you think?!?)

    Would that be okay?

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is the best thing that can happen, you will see. Alcohol is an empty, lying abyss. I’m so glad I escaped. I dont know how many chances a person gets, I’ve had my fair share of chances, think they’ve run out judging by my last relapse. I wish you well on your new adventure! xxxx

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You’ve been on my mind and in my prayers. This post is really good. All of yours are, but this one hit home because for awhile I went through a grieving process. I ‘missed’ my dysfunctional life for a spell… mainly because I hadn’t found what to replace it with. You have a great heart, mind and talent… you will make it. May you find healing and wholeness on this upcoming journey. – janet ps- and I love the image of course- each one I see inspires me to imagine more, and try a little harder 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Awwwww ❤ Thank you so much Janet ❤ I'm definitely anticipating that grieving process (let's just add more grief to the grief LOL). Your encouragement means so much. I'm so blown away by this community and the support. Makes it easier…like I'm not going away "alone". And thanks for the kind words on the photos…I'm really hoping to get back into it when I return. I miss it. Knowing they inspire you, inspires me to do them again. xoxo

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Trying to think of the right words to say, to give you some comfort, peace… Just hang on. I know the feeling of impossibility, the blankness that is like being dead. There is peace and comfort waiting for you, there is possibility. I will be thinking of you and sending you strength. You will have a lot of people here and in treatment, that will be helping you lift yourself up. Living with commitment. You’ve got this ❤


  5. Something you said struck me. You’d miss the feeling of being out of control. One thing that I’ve learned in sobriety is that I was never really in control of much. Never will be either. God runs shit. I just let Him and I try to follow where He points me. It’s His story not mine. I control almost none of it. I’m fine with that. His plans are better than I could ever imagine on my own.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Oh wow, I can sure relate to pretty much everything you described. I just recently wrote about feeling like I’m somewhere between life and death. I get the feeling, reading your blog, that you are a very deep thinking, lovely and strong person. Hang in there, keep fighting, and be good to yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

Let's talk...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: