God does for us what we can not do for ourselves:

I get off the highway in OKC with the intent of getting off the wagon. Several things intercede though. The first is just getting off the highway. The exit is one of those that makes an immediate right angle turn onto a frontage road. I miss the right angle turn at the end of the exit and cut across the corner and then onto the frontage road. This is so totally awful but I am writing it out to acknowledge that once again I am powerless over this addiction and my fucking life is un-fucking-manageable.

I get off the highway get on the frontage road and head west to a bridge over the highway, cross that bridge and head east on the frontage road on the other side of the highway. Just as my eyes spy a place called fantasy something or other my phone starts ringing. I pass the place immediately forgetting about it. I make it to the street that was right before where I exited the highway. My phone stops ringing. I head south and then take the first right heading west. I pull into a gas station/convenience store and get my phone that is laying on the floor of the passenger's seat. It was my friend Tara. I listen to the message and try to call her back. (As I look at it, this is actually pretty good because I actually called her back. I mean typically nothing interferes with the addiction, nothing!) Anyway, I say screw it and get back on the highway and head for Amarillo.

In Amarillo I get off the get off the highway to find a gas station in the hopes that there might be some type of "establishment" near by. The phone rings again. It is another friend. I answer. My addictive episode now somewhat weakened or less severe is interupted by this call.

The snowstorm has kicked up and the streets are covered with ice. I skate through an intersection where there is a gas station. I go to the gas station, get gas, and go in to get a bottle of water. There is a cash machine in there. Thinking that cash might come in handy, I decide to get some cash. (The episode, although weakend, is still underway.) The machine spits my card back out much more quickly than I had expected and a reciept is printed. "Insufficient funds" is the primary message. (Cash facilitates my addiction - kinda makes "things" easier to get.)

Totally depressed and full of shame I get back on the highway and head for Albuquerque. The snow storm strengthens. My addictive episode fades. Immediately, I run into stopped traffic out in the middle of nowhere. It takes about an hour and a half to travel the next eighteen miles where there is an exit with one loan gas station on the other side of the highway. I go across the highway to the gas station. The gas station is not open but the parking lot is packed with trucks

I really have to pee. It seems to be really crowded out in the middle of nowhere so I go back across the highway only to see that the westbound lane has turned into a parking lot once again. I continue pass the entrance ramp down onto a desterted frontage road. I stop off to the side of the frontage road, pee into a cup, roll down the window, and dump the pee out of the cup. (better than getting out in the snow and standing in front of the westbound parking lot) I get in the back of the forerunner, climb into my sleeping bag and go to sleep where I sleep quite well.

The following morning the eastern sky is ablaze with the rising sun. The snow storm has passed and so has the episode. Although I had taken a lot of hits, it appears as though I had won the battle. I won that battle with the help from my higher power.

Thank you God, no! I really mean it. Thank you! I am so grateful! I am still on the wagon - on my way I know not where.