I resurrected my search for it this morning. I still can't find it. I did however find the journal from the year before. On this date in 1983 I wrote this:
"This past year of isolation and loneliness has not been good at all for me. I feel about the looniest I have in a long time. I'm so depressed and full of hate. So K. picks this time to assert his independence. He hasn't been home at night for a week. He's been to bars, golfing, bullshitting in parking lots - anywhere but here - with the bitch.
So, I'll drink my beer, and write my stupidness and live another day on this earth. Why couldn't I have been born a normal person? Why have I become this person I don't like? I used to really like myself - but now - what is there to like? I just cook, clean, drink, and scream. What a way to go. .."
Wow. How I remember those feelings. I knew there was something drastically wrong with me, and I knew drinking was a part of it, but I had no idea that drinking WAS THE PROBLEM.
I am so grateful that I have not written anything like that for very many years. I am so grateful that I have found a way of life where I can find gratitude, where I can take responsibility for the things I can, and not take responsibility for the things I can't. I am so grateful that I have a life with God at the center.