Tied to the Whipping Post

I never thought that I would live day to day again like I did when I first got sober. I often thought that in those early days of sobriety that just waking up without regret was good enough after the life I lead. Now however I am a grown up man of almost 60 and although I say that facetiously I feel like a beginner again. 

Maybe it’s because the economy is so uncertain and I can’t seem to keep myself occupied enough with people to see for my financial business or maybe it’s because my life is so unsettled and the parasites that inhabit my life just don’t know when to leave the host. I keep providing the environs for them to remain without any concern on their part as to what it is that makes me happy. I guess my wife would say that I am doing what I want so that should make me happy. However, I can’t do what I want because I am still shackled to my own whipping post and I am doing the whipping. 

It’s funny to watch me write without a concern for metaphor or feeling the need to entertain those I write about or feel close to. They have come to expect from me stories and now (and this might be my imagination), to provide them with my own personal energy as well.  The question of my own direction beyond this day-to-day existence that I have carved out for myself has me quite frankly baffled. More as it unfolds in my Jacbook.