The Deficit of Impulse.

I have very little to write about these days. I run. I don’t drink. That’s been the basic state of this blog for the past year, it seems. I can only imagine my readership is bored as shit, and that’s borne out in the stats: fewer and fewer people are reading this. That’s fine. I’m not insulted. I’m just boring. For an alcoholic, a boring life is a good life.

Exciting things were always happening to me when I drank. I never knew when I’d decide to fuck it and leave the country. When I’d get in trouble. When I’d hurt myself. When I’d get arrested. Life was draining and miserable and eventful. As a sober man, it’s not like that.

Today my life is pretty ordinary. I have a house that needs professional work on a regular basis. I have a partner who lives in a nearby city with whom I get on very, very well. My health is good. My fitness is improving. I have a growing career that supports me. I have professional success and recognition. I’m comfortable.

I have challenges. I’m lazy. I’m sometimes dishonest. I’m quick to judge and often defensive. I have to face those attributes and work regularly to alleviate them. I regularly have to apologize. But I’ve found that addressing those things and apologizing when I fail isn’t the excoriating process it once was.

I have less to say. I’ve stepped away from a lot of the culture wars. I simply don’t have much to offer there, and the world doesn’t really need another privileged voice shouting about what ought to be. I’m happy to follow new leaders there. Fine people have fine things to say, and I’m not usually able to add more.

I don’t have a lot of reason to write at the moment. I’m not solving great problems of identity anymore. I’m not struggling to maintain a new lifestyle. I’ve wrung the blood from all these stones. I normally write when I’m unhappy. But I’m almost never unhappy anymore, except when my house is leaking. And that will get fixed, like all things get fixed.

I’m 40 years old. I’m healthy. I have a life partner. I’m gainfully employed. And I’m happy. This is what sobriety does. This is how Alcoholics Anonymous helps us. It’s opened me up, so that I can experience all the wondrous things in the world. I am a better me, now. And I know how to live here.