The fear I felt coming back on the bus from the Lakewood Rehabilitation Hospital was palpable. I was afraid I could not do it. I would not be able to stay sober. I had tried before. My history reeked of failure, leaving the emergency room of the Atlantic City Hospital or another detox and immediately I would pick up a drink. The simultaneous insanity of me and I, myself and absence of self, my hand, this stranger's hand, attached to this arm, my arm and a glass comfort, a cold-warm comfort, a drink, this drink, insanity in my hand and down. Down. How did I get in here? This is the only thing I have left, the only thing that I can do, what I am.
I felt fear on the bus. A killing fear. I didn't know if I could do it. I fought fear and fear fought back. Every emotion I had had a drink in it.
Off that bus I poured my fright-filled self.
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Day 68)
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