Soak it up

Rehabilitation is like being a sponge to all the good in life. Self destruction is like being a sponge to all the bad. Yin and Yang. I’ve experienced both, and I’m still kicking. There was a time when I was barely moving. I was doing the death twitch dance like that sparrow in my previous entry. I’d still be rocking it on the dance floor today if it wasn’t for my family and friends. AKA my support system according to rehab. I’m very lucky to have the people that I do standing behind me, but unfortunately they can’t be with me all the time.

I passed a test last night. I was sitting on my porch getting stickier by the minute due to the humidity. I was listening to Marc Maron’s podcast (naturally), and I was running out of cigarettes. (I know, I shouldn’t be smoking. One addiction at a time though folks.) So I decided to walk to the local convenient store to restock. Here’s the kicker: it’s located right across the street from my favorite bar. Dun dun dun! In all seriousness though it was very difficult fighting those cravings. The cravings for the atmosphere of that bar, the people, and of course the booze, but I’m still sober. I managed to stick to the cigarettes and fight that internal part of me that no matter what only wants to drink life away. I was alone and scared I wouldn’t be able to fight it, but I did, and although I was annoyed the rest of the evening because I wanted to drink I didn’t let that part of me take control. So my plan is to learn to soak up as much good in this world as I can, and continue to wring out the bad that has stuck with me for so long. It won’t be easy, many of the stains run deep, but if I keep having small victories like last night those stains will start to fade.

Isolation before rehab was probably my biggest problem next to alcohol. Sure I was surrounded by people because I was inhabiting popular bars, but I was alone. I’d have my headphones in 90% of the time and listen to the same 10 angry songs on repeat. If I needed another drink I wouldn’t take my headphones out, I was a regular so most of the bartenders knew which special sauce I preferred. They’d point at my empty glass and I would nod in response meaning: “More.” Now I’m learning to turn the affects of isolation on my mind in the opposite direction. The truth is I love being alone. I always have. I’ve been taking solo walks through the woods to clear my mind since high school, but this is planet Earth. Other people inhabit it, and I suppose I should be around them occasionally. Speaking of which I passed another small test two days after my discharge. I had a fire at my parents house and invited a group of friends over. I was open with them about where I’d been for the past week and said if they wanted to drink then they had to bring their own booze. I did this to test myself, and because I wanted people to have a good time. I was completely fine with being around alcohol and not drinking. I still had a good time. How about that? I just have to keep reminding myself of where I let alcohol drag me, and that I’m not lame or a square because I have to take a break from it. It’s just who I am, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

I’m beginning to recognize the warning signs of my alcoholism, one of them being what I was feeling last night. In my previous entry I wrote about how everyone is chasing something, everyone has a hole in them that can’t be filled. I realized last night that alcohol temporarily fills that hole, or makes me forget about it, and that’s the only reason I wanted to drink. I was feeling bored and empty, and wanted to fill myself up. I’m learning that in my case if I’m ever going to drink again I have to be in a good mood. I think that’s a pretty obvious guideline for drinking in general but for me it’s vital. Like taking certain psychedelic drugs. If you’re not in a good mood you’re going to have a bad trip man. Like I did for at least 2 months of drinking every day. No more bad trips for this guy.