There are some dangerous mental places for an addict to be: extremes of anger, sadness, happiness and guilt are but few of the many. For this addict in particular, normalcy and routine can lead to some pretty bad ways of thinking.
When life feels too normal, too stable or predictable my mind starts crawling like lava over rocks with an intense, seething itchiness. I become very irritable, restless and am discontented and it is not a healthy place for my mind to be. Thankfully my thoughts only like to take vacations in those places rather than more permanent residence. This is a result of my experiences in recovery and the self-awareness that those times have cultivated in me. I know what it feels like, so I am able to pick up on it and take actions to remedy the situation.
The tough part is that the part of my brain that craves chaos and reckless instability defaults to goading me into taking extreme measures in response to these feeling of bored, boiling angst. I want to not just take action, but take the most reckless action possible to really stir things up and make life interesting.
My urge to do something so alarmingly foolish has fortunately been checked so far by the other, louder part of my brain that screams "DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING!" That's not to say that it always will be shouted down in this way. There is a nearly ever-present longing for doing the wrong thing; it's as though the part of me that loves a challenge wants self-sabotage so blatant to occur so I have the chance to show the word how else I can come back from the brink of ruin or death's doorstep.
It's certainly much more of a cry for attention and/or recognition than a cry for help. I don't know that help is what I need as much as saving from myself. In times when this pattern of thinking has taken hold, it is most crucial to get outside of myself and talk with someone who can understand what I'm thinking. That can only be another addict. To the non-addicted it seems to be no more than impulsive insanity, while to the addict it is just another truth spoken in our language.
Oftentimes when I'm mentally ill-at-ease, something more consistent and deep is happening and I've glossed over it. A more long-term feeling of dissatisfaction or hurt I've buried bubbles to the surface in the form of this grimy, oozing discontent. Times like these call for a pause to reflect for self-examination. I've got to get to the root of what's happening before I go so far as to decide to take a drink or pick something up.
I haven't gotten that far but have been much closer than anyone reading this will realize. Sometimes the only thing keeping me from saying "screw it all" is the knowledge of how many people I'd be letting down if I did. Consider it a sort of socially pressurized control, and know that I'm okay with it if that's the only thing standing between me and a drink or drug in the heat of the moment. I can't reside there too long, but I'll stay sober by any means necessary in the short-term.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Fear
As I've previously expressed in this space, basically any post I make refers to a topic with which I am particularly struggling at the time. This is no different, but has a special kind of relevance for me today.
Fear is not a thing I often give myself permission to feel.
Pain, hurt, anger, joy, rage, love, gratitude? Sure- often each of those comes into play more than once in the course of my day.
But fear? Not so much. Even if I feel it, it's usually immediately translated into something else (most often anger) or dealt with and eliminated swiftly. I don't often acknowledge it in my own mind when I do feel it, much less let anyone know about my experience.
Today is different. Now I know that when I acknowledge, uncover and tell my world about something, I am empowered to confront it in a healthy way. Lately I have been experiencing fear in a way I haven't in many years.
My father died of a rare and incurable lung disease when I was 21 and he was a month shy of 56. In hindsight it was easy to see how long he'd probably been sick but in the moment we just knew something wasn't totally right, but figured nothing was terribly wrong either. We knew he wasn't quite himself and that his health seemed to be different, but didn't know that he was dying. We took him to the hospital in late July or early August with what we thought was pneumonia for the second time in six months or so. It took the about three weeks and two hospitals to diagnose the true problem and the news was grim: he had idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis and that wasn't curable with anything short of a lung transplant. They figured it out just in time to tell us they couldn't do anything to stop it or treat it and he died a bit less than a week later.
I have been dealing with my own health issues, and while they aren't related to my lungs they are unable to be completely and accurately diagnosed right now. I was told in December that I am anemic (at times severely so) and they aren't certain if it is due entirely to internal blood loss (although that is happening) or intestinal issues causing my body to be unable to properly absorb nutrients (probably part of it, and also due in no small part to my years of alcoholic drinking and drug use) or that my blood is in and of itself just iron deficient (also actually happening to some degree as well) OR ALL OF THE ABOVE, or maybe some of the above with other, different factors at play.
I am frightened because my quality of life has somewhat diminished (although not disappeared by any stretch of the imagination) and there are no solid answers, resulting in no distinct plan of action regarding treatment. I am frightened because my addict brain is telling me that it has to be the worst possible scenario and that I am going to turn out like my dad.
As stated in an earlier paragraph, when I experience fear it turns very quickly to anger and often that escalates almost immediately into rage. I have spent a lot of time being very angry lately, and this to me was the sign that something else was actually going on- these days I am not an angry person, so I knew it had to be a reaction to something more. Upon some honest soul-searching and inventorying, I uncovered the truth of the matter: I am being barraged by fear and it may not be entirely unjustified. I refuse to cower in front of this and I will not become paralyzed by it, but acknowledging it helps me greatly- it's the first step towards overcoming it. I recognize it in myself and now you can take me at my word that I am dealing with it rather than stuffing it away, as is my default.
I can only do this one day at a time (like everything else) and I ask for you to show me the patience I am so often incapable of showing myself.
This is my truth, and now that it has been expressed it is a thing that I can overcome. For me, it cannot be dealt with while it is hidden inside of me. Now that it is in the light, I can confront it, conquer it and not be ruled by it.
Fear is not a thing I often give myself permission to feel.
Pain, hurt, anger, joy, rage, love, gratitude? Sure- often each of those comes into play more than once in the course of my day.
But fear? Not so much. Even if I feel it, it's usually immediately translated into something else (most often anger) or dealt with and eliminated swiftly. I don't often acknowledge it in my own mind when I do feel it, much less let anyone know about my experience.
Today is different. Now I know that when I acknowledge, uncover and tell my world about something, I am empowered to confront it in a healthy way. Lately I have been experiencing fear in a way I haven't in many years.
My father died of a rare and incurable lung disease when I was 21 and he was a month shy of 56. In hindsight it was easy to see how long he'd probably been sick but in the moment we just knew something wasn't totally right, but figured nothing was terribly wrong either. We knew he wasn't quite himself and that his health seemed to be different, but didn't know that he was dying. We took him to the hospital in late July or early August with what we thought was pneumonia for the second time in six months or so. It took the about three weeks and two hospitals to diagnose the true problem and the news was grim: he had idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis and that wasn't curable with anything short of a lung transplant. They figured it out just in time to tell us they couldn't do anything to stop it or treat it and he died a bit less than a week later.
I have been dealing with my own health issues, and while they aren't related to my lungs they are unable to be completely and accurately diagnosed right now. I was told in December that I am anemic (at times severely so) and they aren't certain if it is due entirely to internal blood loss (although that is happening) or intestinal issues causing my body to be unable to properly absorb nutrients (probably part of it, and also due in no small part to my years of alcoholic drinking and drug use) or that my blood is in and of itself just iron deficient (also actually happening to some degree as well) OR ALL OF THE ABOVE, or maybe some of the above with other, different factors at play.
I am frightened because my quality of life has somewhat diminished (although not disappeared by any stretch of the imagination) and there are no solid answers, resulting in no distinct plan of action regarding treatment. I am frightened because my addict brain is telling me that it has to be the worst possible scenario and that I am going to turn out like my dad.
As stated in an earlier paragraph, when I experience fear it turns very quickly to anger and often that escalates almost immediately into rage. I have spent a lot of time being very angry lately, and this to me was the sign that something else was actually going on- these days I am not an angry person, so I knew it had to be a reaction to something more. Upon some honest soul-searching and inventorying, I uncovered the truth of the matter: I am being barraged by fear and it may not be entirely unjustified. I refuse to cower in front of this and I will not become paralyzed by it, but acknowledging it helps me greatly- it's the first step towards overcoming it. I recognize it in myself and now you can take me at my word that I am dealing with it rather than stuffing it away, as is my default.
I can only do this one day at a time (like everything else) and I ask for you to show me the patience I am so often incapable of showing myself.
This is my truth, and now that it has been expressed it is a thing that I can overcome. For me, it cannot be dealt with while it is hidden inside of me. Now that it is in the light, I can confront it, conquer it and not be ruled by it.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Of Course It Doesn't Make Sense
When I was in college, I saw a shirt for a fraternity or sorority that said "From the outside looking in, you can't understand it. From the inside looking our, you can't explain it." This is a pretty effective way to both pique curiosity and project exclusivity. It's also a fairly apt description for many things in this life that hold mystery to those who aren't members of a particular group, and non-addicts looking at addiction from the other side of the proverbial glass are no exception.
For most normal folks, the concept of never being satisfied is something to which you aspire. This way of being can propel you much further than the alternative in most all of your endeavors. Never being satisfied is the double-edged sword held to the throat of the addict. We can't be satisfied - one is too many and a thousand is never enough, remember? For us, that unsolvable problem has potentially deadly consequences. We chase the unmet satisfaction even as the chase is killing us.
By definition, alcoholism is an addiction to alcohol. An addiction is characterized by a lack of control - the compulsion is so strong that when active, it is outside of a person's capability to resist. In active addiction, you have no control of and no power over this compulsion to act directly against your own physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health. You cannot stop it and you cannot hope to contain it. If you have any true grip on your action related to an unhealthy substance or activity, you may be in the early stages of addiction and have the opportunity to deal with it before the issue takes over.
There are plenty of behaviors in or characteristics of addiction that don't make sense.
- Why can't you just stop? If I could stop I would, buddy.
- Are things really so bad in your life that you have to drink yourself straight into oblivion? I'm an alcoholic- they don't have to be. Good, bad or indifferent I feel the urge to drink until I don't know my own name.
- Aren't you afraid of the consequences? Nope. Not as afraid as I am of being sober, anyway.
- Don't you love yourself enough to want better for yourself? Nope. The capacity for loving oneself is reserved for someone who isn't such a screwup/loser/idiot/disappointment.
- That seems like a good enough reason to have a drink, so why not? Fact is, I don't need a reason; I'm an alcoholic.
You see, I don't have control after the first whatever- drink, drug or other vice. Without consistent effort I have no defense against the first whatever, either. In and of my own capabilities, I may be able to make it stop for a bit, but I can't keep it that way. I know this because I tried more than once without success. If I could do it on my own, I would've done it on my own a long time ago and saved myself the embarrassment.
If I am able to continue to do the right thing and ask for help when I need it, I've been granted a measure of power back. I have to bear in mind that the price of that power and freedom is eternal vigilance, to coin a paraphrase.
If that doesn't make sense, maybe it doesn't have to. It just has to work for me, for today.
For most normal folks, the concept of never being satisfied is something to which you aspire. This way of being can propel you much further than the alternative in most all of your endeavors. Never being satisfied is the double-edged sword held to the throat of the addict. We can't be satisfied - one is too many and a thousand is never enough, remember? For us, that unsolvable problem has potentially deadly consequences. We chase the unmet satisfaction even as the chase is killing us.
By definition, alcoholism is an addiction to alcohol. An addiction is characterized by a lack of control - the compulsion is so strong that when active, it is outside of a person's capability to resist. In active addiction, you have no control of and no power over this compulsion to act directly against your own physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health. You cannot stop it and you cannot hope to contain it. If you have any true grip on your action related to an unhealthy substance or activity, you may be in the early stages of addiction and have the opportunity to deal with it before the issue takes over.
There are plenty of behaviors in or characteristics of addiction that don't make sense.
- Why can't you just stop? If I could stop I would, buddy.
- Are things really so bad in your life that you have to drink yourself straight into oblivion? I'm an alcoholic- they don't have to be. Good, bad or indifferent I feel the urge to drink until I don't know my own name.
- Aren't you afraid of the consequences? Nope. Not as afraid as I am of being sober, anyway.
- Don't you love yourself enough to want better for yourself? Nope. The capacity for loving oneself is reserved for someone who isn't such a screwup/loser/idiot/disappointment.
- That seems like a good enough reason to have a drink, so why not? Fact is, I don't need a reason; I'm an alcoholic.
You see, I don't have control after the first whatever- drink, drug or other vice. Without consistent effort I have no defense against the first whatever, either. In and of my own capabilities, I may be able to make it stop for a bit, but I can't keep it that way. I know this because I tried more than once without success. If I could do it on my own, I would've done it on my own a long time ago and saved myself the embarrassment.
If I am able to continue to do the right thing and ask for help when I need it, I've been granted a measure of power back. I have to bear in mind that the price of that power and freedom is eternal vigilance, to coin a paraphrase.
If that doesn't make sense, maybe it doesn't have to. It just has to work for me, for today.
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