Count it All as Lost

It's time that I really thought hard and clearly on where my life's going. These may just be some of the latest pathetic musings of a dejected addict with little-to-no successes in his life, as of yet. However, in the certain hopes of a 12-Step believer in Christ - whichever way that sends unbelievers - my identity lies in something higher. One step and one day at a time, sober today and that's all that matters, I'll bite the bullet and chew the cud until all I can see is a successful surgery and nourishment to a famished soul. Really, that illustration takes hold, because I've got to proverbially swallow G-D's recovery message from my head to my heart. The "Sterling Yearling's" two-year-long relapse collapse - having had that semi-short stint in utter recovery - should see its shutters slammed, if G-D says the same. Last spring's collosal college failure notwithstanding, my education will continue, but I'll stay where my hands are at. I'm going to a meeting as soon as physically possible, and had better attend one every day indefinitely. Only then do I stand a chance against all odds. Moreover, this house I'm at now adds a decisive factor to that equation. WE stand a chance against such odds. Onwards we row the tumultuous seas of sobriety. On paper I didn't accomplish either major objective that I set out to achieve today, pantry or plasma, but on the contrary I set the schematic and spiritual groundwork for such greater feats. Just for today, WE plan on making the food & clothing pantry and donating plasma a thing of the distant past. As the lyrics of the song by one of the all-time greats, August Burns Red say, "Count it all as lost, there's so much more to gain".