I was lost in thought the other day- half way between meditating and thinking of new ideas- when I had this moment where I realized my life was no longer consumed by my previous PTSD/Depression. No longer did my identity revolve around the murders, or the harmful ways I attempted to address that pain. For the longest time I didn’t even realize I was living this way. PTSD and the depression that sprung forth stripped away so many things I loved. I even stopped enjoying djing for awhile. My heart wasn’t into it, and the fact that not having that love didn’t even feel off to me- looking back at those times I didn’t fathom why I no longer cared that something I loved so much I could brush aside so easily. Or why I would get soul crushing anxiety anytime I would have to play out in public. Thats the real crime of depression is it robs you from experiencing the things you love to the point you can’t even remember why they gave you joy in the first place. It was so bad that I didn’t even make a dj mix for over five years. Music become a chore- something to be endured not enjoyed. So in the past year being able to experience the joy of djing brought me all the way back to my teenage years in my basement mixing records. Having that passion rekindled in me has been beyond a blessing, and a blessing I will soon be able to share with you with a new mix in the coming weeks.
But before that glorious day my hours passed in a fog of frozen hell. I had no idea all those years later that the despair I fled in the wake of the deaths would eventually wreak so much havoc in my subconscious, and subtlety weave it’s way into my whole view of the world. It was as if I was wearing those Roddy Roddy Piper glasses in They Live- but instead of seeing aliens my eyes were clouded lenses of tragedy and fear.
Thinking back the dogma of AA prayed upon and played into those fears for many years. I was indoctrinated that I drank- not because I hadn’t properly dealt with some serious emotional pain I was suppressing- because all my pain was just resentments that the fourth step would cure with the turnarounds. For those not aware there are 12 steps in AA. The first three are basically saying you are powerless to alcohol and only god(higher power- something greater than yourself can save you from your drinking.) Alcohol is this big boogeyman in AA always in the parking lot doing push ups, and other body focused isometric exercises. Alcoholics do some terrible shit while drinking so AA professes that deep down all alcoholics are selfish and resentful at their core, and thus it’s not really your fault since you just never were were not giving a proper design for living(aka Big Book and 12 steps)before to deal with these bedevilments. So the fourth step is where you first write out all your resentments to the world- so anyone, or anything you felt has wronged you during your entire life. This is also the step where you have to to do a turnaround on said resentment- which is where you show the role you played in the resentment. For example the resentment of my brother murdering my sister, niece, and nephew was my fault because my reaction to the trauma was to drink to avoid it. Never mind the batshit logic of having to explain where your at fault for a murder is fucking nuts. Even worst AA loved when I said that. Real taking of accountability the old timers would snarl- but if you look at this beyond the surface why the fuck I am exploring such a deep and nuanced subject based on anecdotal science from a hundred years ago with a sponsor(for god bless their souls and my past ones were the best people!) whose only qualification for exploring this process with you is they themselves completed the steps. These are not licensed counselors you deal with- just normal people. So imagine the type of harm that can happen from these types of exercises even if the outright intention is not malicious. After completing the steps, sponsoring others (three of which who were in their early twenties who passed on), going to multiple meetings daily, and running a sober house I still wanted to drink. No matter how much I prayed I was still miserable. So I would drink again and then have to go back to AA and grab a newcomers white chip and start all over. And have to lie when I shared that I didn’t trust god with all my heart enough as the reason for my drinking again- not the mental anguish and toil going on from unstable brain chemistry mixed with unresolved emotional trauma. Nope just not being 100 with GOD. Or I drank because I didn’t pray hard enough, or I just didn’t want it enough- because AA is not for people who need it, it’s for people who want it. Looking back the whole process makes me want to puke.
In AA everything centers around alcohol- and the program becomes all consuming in your life where meetings serve as your new addiction. I know today I can not drink- I ruined that ability in the midst of trying to avoid my emotions. I abused this liquid escape to a point my body can no longer consume without being a total asshole that you don’t want around, who will sabotage anything good in his life. I am at peace with not drinking- plus drinking makes me fat. At my peak depression about five years ago I weighed 280 pounds-this morning I weighed in at 221(more nutrition posts to come I am into overnight oats now) But just losing the weight didn’t make me happy either. Long story short what made me happy was a long and arduous journey of self-discovery full of too many failures to count. Being able to write while feeling joy is something I feared I would never be able to experience. If I followed AA’s path I would still be stuck in that purgatory pain fog which was a living death. But as a part of my journey I am thankful for the lessons I learned along the way in AA, and the amazing people who came into my life because of it. I am not here to destroy AA- because for those it works for it is a beautiful thing. But for the others struggling today to I want them to realize there are different paths to happiness, and to keep searching to you find the right one.
My dear readers you can rejoice for I have returned. I apologize for the delay but my brain’s been a bit foggy these days. The words scattered in my skull; my thoughts a jigsaw puzzle floating through outer space as I desperately fly to each piece to sort them together. The aftermath of my last post led to a stay in the hospital where I came off a cocktail of 8 meds to a new lean new two piece of a mood stabilizer with a shot of antidepressant. So far I feel decent- not too high, not too low. So of course for me that means I feel uncomfortable. It’s funny how we get so comfortable in those undesirable emotions such as turmoil, depression, fear, or pain. Those feelings are like a warm blanket to me compared to contentment, and well just the fucking normalcy of the day. I also hadn’t been able to write so I thought I would cure it with a drink. I figured the drink would spark everything back and break me out of the void I had falling into. In reality it was just my brain tricking me into a return to an old comfortable feeling- the numbness and escape that first sip brings. The fleeting myth you chase every time you succumb to your poison. So I embedded myself into the alcohol, like a journalist in a war town country to a squadron, and gave in and drank. And of course James Baldwin did not enter my soul and come out through words on my paper. In fact the only words that did were lies to myself and others. The lie that alcohol can somehow make me whole- while in reality it’s just making the hole inside me even bigger. The hole of self doubt, hatred, insecurity, and fear. The hole you fall into where lies become the safety net. The hole you know you will eventually be buried in if you keep down the path that the drink wants from you. And a hole dug so deep I didn’t want to tell anyone I had fallen into it again. So I just pretended it didn’t happen, and let the halo on top of my head fashion into a noose. That noose got so tight I needed a drink to loosen it- and since I hadn’t shared my shameful secret from the night before the alcohol slipped right in like a Viking from the shore. His battle-axe a pint of vodka to my heart. I know my defense now is just being honest. Being vulnerable letting everyone know I failed another alcohol test. I gave in like a chump. But through failure comes knowledge. A loss is the best way to learn how to win. So I woke up early determined to write words. To prove to myself I don’t need alcohol to write. To prove to myself I don’t need alcohol to live. And to prove to myself finally I don’t need alcohol to survive. So today, July 15th, I declare my goddamn independence from that demon alcohol. And already I feel that noose loosening from my neck as the sun gently rises on a new day ahead, and I embrace this new journey where getting really fucking uncomfortable is going to be me striving for my new norm.
I haven’t wrote here in awhile- at first it was because things were going so well. The chaos was behind me so the words stopped flowing. My brain though- through years of repetition, repeating past cycles, and being able to grasp in its clutches the one thing that still caused me pain- however was sly. It’s like I jumped in the front seat of a Cadillac while never noticing the killer in the back, with a halo in his hands meant to choke out my existence. The thing was unlike before I wasn’t in deep despair- nor any longing for the embrace of a breathless existence. Things just became too normal- everything was going too well. It just made me too uncomfortable to be comfortable and free from calamity’s oasis. So embraced my old mistress and took a sip of the pleasure of my pain. Ruining the friendship of the person whose past pain was similar to mine, and could relate in a level so much deeper than most. Instead I found umbrage in embarrassing fb messages, and the matrix of dating sites. Not wanting a connection till my brain was on autopilot, and my past code took over control. My future was so bright that each night I blacked out the night- inching ever so closer to those future days I was actively trying to destroy. A catch 22 of the madness of despair. I named this blog Broken Resolutions because it was an ode to the past. And while today I start a new journey- I learned a new lesson. You can’t fix anything in the morning if you are actively destroying it each night. Comfort equals despair when your actively trying to change. The only thing I was mindful in those almost two months was my dishonesty to myself, knowing all the right lies to trick myself. So here again I am freeing my secrets- sending them out so they can’t hide in me no more. Feeling the night so I can enjoy the brightness of the day. Still wondering in confusion, but tonite I am sober. And tomorrow will follow. And from there just like doing lunges at the gym I am just going to enjoy the suck- knowing the only way to be freed from past sins is falling into the arms of the the destruction of that oasis of my past love, chaos. And if all else fails l’ll just pretend I am John Wick, and booze was my dog’s killer. Taking revenge on that bastard by never taking that first sip.
I quarantined myself to my house like I was in that Alway’s Sunny Episode (shout out to Boyz II Men). This mental obsession seems to grow worse everyday, and if I leave I know alcohol would be the first thing I searched for. I am mindlessly watching old episodes of Hell’s Kitchen in a bit of a librium haze. Loneliness surrounds me, and all I want is the embrace of all those past lovers I left behind for the warm embrace of alcohol instead. Alcohol is the most enticing mistress I know- never has something just touching my lips gave me such comfort before, and with the ability to take away all my negative feelings. But tonight is almost over, and ideally tomorrow will be another day sober. I know my insecurity is the devil’s tool that is consuming my mind in these early days. That fear that wipes over me as I get sober is normal since I am taking away the solution I have used for so long to mask myself. But think about the fact that any perceived insecurities are created from false thoughts created inside me, or from belief in the false negative from outside influences that take myself away from realizing the truth in myself. So today I am looking deep into me heart and realizing this obsession will past. Even though tonight will be brutal- this discomfort will help me grow. Or so I have to believe this to get through the night.
It’s day four and sometimes my brain feels like it’s fighting itself- when I start to feel good I always want to destroy it. I realize that for some reason I hate myself deep down and I don’t know why. Alcohol helps with the sabotage turning myself into that person I despise. The person who tries to ruin every relationship I have. I am trying to change this, but I don’t know how to sometimes, and I just feel pain. I want to find the love I am missing inside, and I am going to keep on searching. If not only for myself, but for my sister, niece and nephew for the love they lost I want to regain. So on day four I want to give myself the gift of forgiveness, and I hope that freedom allows me to work to be forgiven for all my past sins. I know words can’t undue what I said or how act while drinking, but I hope as time passes in this new year I can work my way back to the person I know I am deep inside, and hopefully you will get to know that person too as I continue to write more. Today has been brutal. Every portion of the soul of my body wants to drink. The Librium the doctor gave me is not helping as much as I would like. My IOP and the hour long yoga session web did helped for a bit. In the session today they asked when they should know when I was bullshitting them and myself- and I said when I hide my emotions and pretend everything is alright. I also admitted for my initial intake interview this past Monday I had a fifth of vodka with me, and never told my counselor about that Edgar Allen Poe Tell Tale Heart in my pocket. It was my eldest brother’s birthday that day which was something else I failed to mention. He is currently in jail for triple murder from a schizophrenic break from reality when he murdered our sister, four year old niece, and two year old nephew in a blackout. I have just rekindled a relationship with him after s few years, and understand he was mentally ill and not in his right mind during that fine. Although I hate the situation I don’t hate him. The realization was I hate myself for my reaction to it after it. That incident is what led to my alcohol dependence, and the turmoil I put myself into in the aftermath. So today I am reaching out for help, and putting my faith in this universe around us. And also opening myself up to all you strangers reading this, and hoping my honesty can help another person, and also my own self struggling just be able to get through another day.
Emotions are terrorists to our brains. They are grenades that shatter reality and destroy rational thought. It’s funny how depression can take everything beautiful in my life and distort it to all I see is ugly. How it can make everything wonderful in my soul- in my heart- and in my life become a weapon of self destruction. Ohh how many nighs I fought it off-did what I was supposed to became the Hulk Hogan of recovery- I said my prayers, took my meds, followed the steps, and helped others- everything they told me would keep that pain away. But then the pain resurfaced- disguised in a new garb- not thrift-shop but a fancy outfit this time. I didn’t see it coming. Slowly the pain started to distort my view- the beauty of the forest disguised by a dead tree-diseased and pock marked like an old man whose only joy is being the proprietor of sin- never realizing the so called the whores at his disposals where actually angels lusting for their wings. I don’t know why god needed me to hit so much pain again- but he did and I hit it. And I hope it’s the last time he asks me to do that because I am not sure I can overcome it the next time. My soul is getting tired- and I just want to be free someday. So maybe if I tell someone it will relieve it. Maybe if I confess I am tired god won’t see fit to have me trudge through this misery anymore. Cause god am I tired- so fucking tired.
Yesterday I passed out while drinking a fifth of vodka. I was supposed to be detoxing, but instead of reaching out to the people that care in my life I decided to pour the one thing that keeps ruining my life down my throat. I worry without alcohol I won’t be able to write, be creative, or even dj again. My depression and suicidal ideation doesn’t help- but alcohol only increases these abhorrent thoughts. It’s a sit and spin of increased terror. I am riding deranged Disney tea cups that will never stop until I pass out, and vow once again never to drink. Alcohol has already ruined so much in my life from friendships, to girls I loved, to jobs I gave away for a simple taste of spirits, and finally the trust of my family. So this is day one of sobriety. It’s funny how I think putting this out to the world of the internet will keep me more accountable. And maybe in the end it will, and ideally maybe help someone else who is struggling. Day one for me is usually a lot easier than day two or three. My anxiety stays relatively low, and the guilt and shame from my last debacle usually keeps the cravings at bay for those 24 hours or so. I like to isolate which is not the healthiest, but I did get to see my family for brunch today which helped. Usually I am avoiding the world- specifically social media or text messages- because I have tendency to blackout and send messages that are embarrassing, inappropriate, angry, or a combination of all the above. Honesty will set me free they say. So if anyone is reading this that has received that type of message from me I feel like that Casual song, “I Didn’t Mean To.” That’s for the obscure 90’s rap heads, and it’s actually about him hooking up with a girl with a boyfriend-which does make sense since I did cheat on my sobriety with that devil named vodka. But today I stayed sober. Tomorrow is another day and another test. But I will pray tonight to help me trudge forward with god in my heart, and Wu Tang in my headphones.
I am not big on resolutions-especially New Year’s one. I used to have a blog called Drunk and Focused which I wrote about drinking, culture, music, and even reviewed every flavor of Maddog 2020. But it’s the first day of 2019, and my first day sober once again- and yes I know how fucking cliche it is to get sober on January 1st. Getting sober on the first is on some basic as fuck shit that it could be an American Eagle commercial. This also a chance to prove I am not washed up in the blog game. This site will not just be about not drinking, though I will journal each day of my sobriety, but it will also highlight the myriad of many other things fucking up my mind these days. So I will write about the joys of mental illness, rap music, tv, pop culture, rants, wrestling, why you should never Facebook message people while in a blackout, and a place to share my writing to prove all that student loan debt I am in was totally worth it to get an MFA. So get ready for the return of the LeBron James of this blog game- this time with a 12 step habit.