Is it wrong that I find Lucifer kinda sexy? He’s such a dick, takes pleasure in his dickishness. I think I take pleasure in his pleasure. He’s no Dean though. Ultimately: no contest. My daughter got me a packet of all the necklaces from Supernatural for Xmas. Gonna be rocking a lot of pentagrams. I’m putting on all the ones with black cords. Gonna hide them under my shirt tomorrow at work so people don’t think I’m a Satanist but then again, do I care?
It’s my Friday so I’m up late. 10:20 p.m. at the moment. Yes that is late for me now because for once in my life I work a day job and have to wake up at 6 a.m. The way I tricked myself into it is I told myself “hey, you don’t like to wake up no matter what time it is and you hit the snooze button at least twice no matter what time it is so what do you care if it’s at 6 a.m. instead of one or two in the afternoon?” (unemployed Covid schedule = whack). Anyway I just took my meds so I’ll be out around midnight and get six hours of sleep if I’m lucky. Eating half a now-unfrozen margherita pizza with a Coke. Might eat the other half. Will probably eat the other half.
Lucifer is really fucking with Sam this episode. Sam’s in the looney bin, locked up. Lux won’t let him sleep and Sam’s going cray. Kinda like me on meth back when. Chasing voices around an empty house. Picking “glass” out of the tips of my fingers with tweezers and a needle.
Today after work I stopped to check out a house that one of the sisters who still talks to me is rehabbing. (One out of three isn’t talking to me and hasn’t for well over two years. Not bad for an alki?) After that I stopped by Walgreen’s and only bought the things I actually needed, well, things that I had on my list. “Need” can get a little slippery when you are consumed with want. The Big Book says something about the “chief activator” of most of our defects being the fear that we’ll lose something we already have or not get something we want (“need”). Actually the book says “something we demand.” (p. 76) So I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist. I’ve been spending a lot of money lately, and I mean it when I say “lot.” I have to watch out because impulsivity and extravagance are signatures of both my bipolar and my ADHD. I bought a BMW once on credit when I was jobless and recently divorced.
After Walgreen’s I went home and straightened up real fast then headed to the Lite Owls meeting. It’s the only in-person meeting I go to right now. Topic was the first step. There were few enough people that everybody shared, just like the good-weather days when we were getting together at Alberta Park. When the meeting was over I was fantasizing pretty hard about my couch (I luuuuuurve my couch) and Supernatural but instead I had a friend over for tea (right after I pounded a Bang at the meeting). “Fellowshipping.” There was a large group going to fellowship at a food-cart, but one person was all I could handle and even that was pushing it. Often in recovery life, your feet say yes when the rest of you says no. So I held to my plan to hang with D. And later I was glad. I am making a new friend. We talked and talked. Feelings welled up in me from all over the place. I started to cry twice but didn’t finish.
This summer I sent the non-talking sister a letter to ask if she would be willing to let me make an amends to her. An amends is where you face the harm you’ve done another and find out if there’s anything you can do to atone. You don’t grovel; you acknowledge and address. If you’re doing it “right,” you listen. I don’t hold it against her, the silence. All I can do is extend a hand.
LOCK IT DOWN 