Tonight, I seek oblivion
Sometimes feelings get to damn much. I am sitting here trying to write a reasoned response to recent articles I have seen about ‘toxic masculinity’, but my own depression and the 3 gin and tonics I have had are getting in the way.
(This is a depressing and maudlin read, more like a whiny teenage livejournal post than anything. But this stuff has to go somewhere)
This is the first night in a while where I don’t have to be somewhere tomorrow, or take care of my daughter. It has been a hard day, full of petty annoyances and small failures on my part. Nothing so grand as losing a loved one or personal injury.
But these small things weigh on me. I can’t seem to complete my masters application properly. Just can’t get word to page. I am so completely out of touch with academic writing, on top of my own lack of writing ability. Its like writing a job application.
Got caught up by a scammer on tinder. Let myself have a small amount of hope for some kind of human connection. I realised quickly, but that little bit of hope for a lonely man hurts quite a lot.
Systems issues, annoying assholes at work, minor small things that seem to add up and make life harder than it needs to be.
The oblivion of intoxication sounds appealing. I know it is counter productive, I know that it does nothing good for me, I know that I will just pay for it tomorrow, I know that it does nothing good for my myriad of health issues.
But it would be nice to not have to deal with my emotions for a night. The creeping loneliness, the self-despair. Sometimes I wonder why humans never evolved a release catch or a reset button. It would be nice to go back to a baseline of mental health every one in a while. To have a break from ourselves outside of chemical intoxicants.
Maybe some people are better at handling it. Their psychological makeup or neurological construction are just better at handling these small things. It would be nice to be a person of apparently endless strength, that can just seem to handle it all so easily.
Humans are made to handle being in a jungle, hunting for food. Our fight or flight reflexes are made to save us from dangerous creatures. A general sense of worry about our finances or the existential fear or being alone kind of throws our primate brains for a loop.
It is strange. temporary oblivion has such an appeal, even though it doesnt do anything. I could drink myself stupid, and wake up tomorrow with exactly the same problems. I wouldn’t help me to deal with it at all, but the appeal of going on a misery journey enticing.
To throw caution to the wind, to stumble at the precipice of oblivion knowing that you will fall eventually, to not care about the outcome. I wish I could not care to that extent. To live boldly, without fear or restraint. To say and feel without concern for the future or for the welfare of others.
It reminds me of people who fall in love with strippers. Deep down they know that it is all an act, but they have fooled themselves into happiness even for a little bit. I see faith as much the same thing. It is howling at the darkness, desperately hoping on something without proof. To turn off the part of your brain that says “Yeah, everything will probably not be ok. Stuff is a bit shit really”. Isnt that the nature of happiness? Temporary, fleeting as the wind. And perhaps more valuable for being so.
Even as I type I can feel the alcohol blurring my vision and my thoughts. I seek oblivion and catharsis, but the alcohol only allows me to feel the things I don’t wish to feel more deeply. There is a tipping point for peace, and I haven’t reached it yet. More drinks, more blurriness, enough to keep me from being so damn maudlin.
So is the answer more drinking, or less? Do I strike out on a bold course for the edges of insensibility, or hold off and let the alcoholic tide subside? Do I sacrifice tomorrows happiness (and a probably sever headache), for a night of sweet intoxication and oblivion?
I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps one more drink.