this is a contest / writing assignment.
- read the question below, which is a real one from my inbox.
- then imagine you are me, and what MY reply might be. you can pretend to be me.
- Winning answer gets an audio bundle worth $150.
your assignment is to write out a 4-5 sentence reply for this email, from my point of view, what might i write as a reply to this.
post your comments below (or send to me in an email)
i have already written my reply. i think this is a cool experiment to not just look at this how YOU might reply, but to imagine how someone else (me) would, too.
even if you’re new to me, and you don’t know what i might do, try it anyway.
and the winner will get an audio bundle worth $150.
deadline: tomorrow, thursday, around noon eastern.
isn’t this fun? i can’t wait 😉 the last time i did this, the response was fascinating.
HERE’S THE EMAIL:
Leener (day 88): “sometimes I feel like I’m just half-assing the sober thing, like I’m not really invested in it, or like I’m not thinking about alcohol ENOUGH. Instead I’m just head down about it. Keep my head down, ignore wolfie, go about my day, stay sober. Head down. Or, I’m just wafting along in a sea of sober momentum, pulling out the supports when the water gets a bit choppy. [we’re not even at the metaphor part yet.] Okay, here goes.
Imagine that I’m alone in a room with Wolfie. I think of a one-room mountain cabin. Isolated. Part of me (the perfectionist?) feels that to be really kick ass-this-is-gonna-stick sober, I should be in that room with Wolfie, staring him down, watching him wither away while I dehydrate him. I keep my eye on him, I know his every move, and I can see him getting weaker and weaker.
Most of the time, this is what I’m actually doing: I’m in the room with Wolfie, and I make sure to keep my back to him at all times. I can’t look him in the eyes, I’m too scared of him. I’m not going to let him win, but I’m also not going to peek at him. I’m constantly shuffling around the room to make sure my back is to him, so that I can’t see him. But I know he is there. Since I can’t see him I can’t tell if he is withering away. I can’t see him dehydrated and suffering. For all I know he is looming larger than before, right behind my back. But I keep shuffling around, not daring to look at him, hoping that what I’ve been told is actually true… that even though I can’t see it happening, he is actually getting smaller, and suffering behind my back. Maybe one day I will have the courage to turn about and look at him, but that day is not today.
What do you think? Is the latter version of sober still enough? Any sober is better than not sober, I suppose. We have a call scheduled for next Tuesday. Maybe we can talk about this then.”
What do you think i said to her?