Sponsor Shmonsor

I am so tired of thinking about drinking.  It is constant.  This relentless chattering ticks away in my brain until I think I may just go crazy.

It's like I am going through this horrible break-up with an abusive boyfriend.  White wine is the man I can't get over, the lover that satisfied my every wanton need, but beat the crap out of me for wearing red socks.  As I look back on all the good times we had, the reasons I left him don't seem so very horrible.  I keep going around and around about how I can fix him.  How I can change him - if I just do this or that or the other, he won't hurt me anymore.  He needs me!  I was his best friend, his everything!  If I don't go back to him, what will I do?  How will I live?  What is worth living for anyway??

It has to get easier.  I've been to meetings and the people there look happy with what they have done.  I want what they have but I don't understand how they got there.  I want to grab one of those smiling women by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattle out of her skull - ADMIT IT!  YOU'RE MISERABLE!  YOU SUCK AT LIFE!  DRINKING IS AWESOME!!  Maybe not the best approach to finding a sponsor.

The things I start to tell myself around 3 o'clock every afternoon sound foolish even to me, but it's a conversation I have anyway:

Yeti 1: "Maybe if we just get one bottle, we can nurse it until bedtime?"
Yeti 2: "One will never be enough.  As long as we're going, better get two."
Yeti 1: "What about when we wake up sick tomorrow - we will need a little something to make us feel better.  Best to grab a couple of those little bottles."
Yeti 3: "Tsk tsk...this is just going to start everything over and nobody has the patience for you to keep doing this to yourself - least of all your liver."
Yeti 1: "But how are we going to make it to bedtime when we just barely made it to nap time?"
Yeti 3: "That is why we need to find a sponsor."
Yeti 2: "Shut up, Yeti 3 - this is an A and B conversation.  So who's driving?"

I truly realize I need a sponsor.  Someone that has been there, knows that it feels impossible.  I'm just horrified of small talk.  I'm absolutely terrified of conversation.  I'm one of those people that will spot someone I know in the grocery store and run in the other direction so I don't have to "chat" with them.  And I may even really like that person!!  It's just this weird social anxiety thing that doesn't make any sense, but it's there all the same.  When I'm in the dredges, calling someone sounds good.  As soon as I pick up the phone, I chicken out and tell myself I can work this out.  I will get a sponsor when I find someone that really fits.  Well, I'm starting to think it's that sneaky little wench, Yeti 2, that is feeding me this line.  I need to get over myself or I am going to end up back in the bottle.  That would be so fantastic to actually be able to get in the bottle...a bottle of white wine so big I could float in it.  One can dream.