There has been a sudden epidemic of relapses among the members of my SMART group.
Several people, one right after another, taking their turn to share their story of falling off the wagon. Some people have put off talking about it for a week or so, because they didn't want to add yet another relapse story into a meeting that was already crowded with them. Some of these people are new to recovery, and are still struggling with it, and so that's to be expected. But others have been sober for years. And those are a lot harder to deal with. For everyone involved.
Relapses are a part of recovery, as they say. But though they happen, they're still rare enough that it feels very bizarre for them to be happening in a cluster like this. It feels improbable, bordering on paranormal.
And I can't help thinking about this, as we get ready to go to Dover for the NASCAR race this weekend. I normally have a six-pack all to myself during the race, plus a few other fun enhancers and reality lubricants both before and after. It's always been a party weekend for us. This will be my first time at a race completely sober.
I'm honestly not worried about my sobriety right now. I don't feel I am in any danger of getting fucked up in any way this weekend. Nor am I concerned about my ability to enjoy myself this weekend sober. This weekend is a blast, period, and there's nothing about it that I need to get fucked up in order to enjoy. I know I'm going to have a great time.
But with the way things have been going lately, I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel a little bit like tempting fate.
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