Psychopaths Anonymous by Will Carver

Author:Will Carver [Carver, Will]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orenda Books
Published: 2021-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

STEP TEN

‘Continue to make a personal inventory, and when you are wrong, promptly admit it.’

Now, I’m supposed to become an accountant. Muswell Hill: Sober Today. It’s the first meeting I’ve been to in a while. I wouldn’t usually come over this way but I’m avoiding some of the old haunts. Jill is there all day at work, I don’t need to be seeing her during my lunch break at The Light Ahead in Euston or bump into her after hours at Wood Green Friends of Bill W. I would like to see if Not Jack is still doing the rounds, though. Jill says she hasn’t heard from him.

She is still stroking dicks and egos on the weekends but looks and sounds healthier than ever at work. She says she’s not drinking during the week now and I believe her.

When I first met Jill, she wasn’t interesting to me. She sounded positive and like she was buying into the twelve steps. She’s like that again now but I’ve seen her at her worst so it doesn’t bother me in the same way.

But it does bother me.

It seems that getting to step ten is something of a milestone because everything before was preparation for a new life. Now, I am to put it to practical use.

The mood here is not sombre. The alcoholics at this meeting are well on their way to sobriety. It’s boring as hell. They’re acting so optimistically.

‘Hangovers from drinking are rough but they are nothing compared to the emotional hangover caused by an excess of negative feeling.’

This kind of talk does nothing to curb my desire to kill somebody in this room.

My freezers are empty.

There’s space for two.

So, here’s the deal: I’ve stepped up. I’ve admitted I’m powerless over an addiction – in this case, alcohol, but that’s the least of my issues – I’ve made my moral inventory. I’ve spoken out loud to someone. I’ve made amends. Now, I have to do the moral inventory thing again.

All the goddamned time.

Constant analysis.

A real buzz kill.

Basically, I am now expected to perform an hourly and daily analysis. And the real kicker is that I’m supposed to draw up a balance sheet. Praise myself for the things that I have done well but also be honest about the other things that are detrimental to my recovery.

Every day. Forever.

And it’s often useful to come back to meetings every six months, apparently. Perhaps have an annual appraisal. A teetotal Care Bear, getting a blow job on Christmas morning at Disneyland would turn to the drink if forced to make these daily evaluations.

‘And remember that we are sober by the Grace of God.’

Oh, not this again.

Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

‘…and it is more His success than ours, for it is His will.’

I have to leave. You can’t tell a group of people to celebrate their successes then attribute it all to a bearded gas in the sky. It’s counterintuitive. It’s reductive. It’s insulting. Maybe that’s the idea. Bring people up then knock them back down and keep them coming back.

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