‘Twas the night before therapy, and I’ve come to espouse
a new approach to recovery: expectations can get doused.
My finances, my weight – although I do care –
can take a back seat cuz it’s not fucking fair
to think I can deal; I can’t even get out of bed!
With all these emotions running around in my head.
My to-do list is shrinking, I’m imposing a cap:
Don’t drink, that’s it! Anything else, I might snap.
I don’t like to admit that I’m mad as a hatter,
The drink is to blame, that’s the fact of the matter.
But who ever said recovery had style or panache?
(I was probably more graceful when I was out on the lash.)
It has finally dawned on me, and I now I know
The key to sobriety is taking things slow
Fuck it if I don’t have something that looks like a career,
I haven’t touched any vodka, red wine or beer
I didn’t wake up and get violently sick
and I know that last night I didn’t act like a dick.
In early recovery there is absolutely no shame
in keeping your taskmaster subdued and tame.
This brain of mine, it needs a good blitzing!
The issues, the traumas, they all need some fixing!
So if all I can bear is to curl up in a ball
or sit and stare at some spot on the wall
Then that is okay, I will let that fly
It’s called processing feelings, and not getting drunk and/or high
It’s the night before therapy and I feel pretty calm
I’ve had a rough week, but I’ve needed no balm
I will do what I need to, there’s no wrong or right
I’m going to bed sober, so that’s a good night!
(I am sorry if I have ruined Christmas for you)