Staying “lit” without alcohol

In order to fully embrace my newborn sobriety I need to follow the instructions I carefully constructed in rehab. It’s not homework but I’m treating it like it is, and that’s saying something. I hate homework yet I’ve assigned myself guidelines to follow for the rest of my days. One of them that I began to embrace immediately after discharge was informing people of my condition. Building up my already powerful support system of friends, family, and my super model girly friend. If I keep people in the loop of what I’m feeling when I need to then I’ll never have to keep my head up alone. I owe it to myself and others to express my feels. Being a guy that can often be a difficult chore, but I’m not going to back down from it. So if I do fall off the wagon I’ll have people around me to help climb back into it. I’m doing great so far, and I’m almost ready to return to work and become a contributor to society once again. I’ve needed these past few days off though to absorb and accept where I am, and to keep this newfound positivity alive and on top.

It just started raining. It wasn’t supposed to storm today, but ya know. Summer rains. Is there a metaphor to this sudden change in the weather? To me there’s always a metaphor ready for consumption. I can remember a time a couple summers ago when my family and I went tubing down a river with some of my mom’s work friends. One of them had raspberry vodka soaked gummy bears that I devoured most of, along with at least four beers. At one point my dad and I were discussing the unfortunate death of one of my heroes: Kurt Cobain. I felt that there was an inner turmoil within Kurt that he just couldn’t shake on his own and that’s why he took his own life, and that his music was a representation of this theory. My dad’s thoughts basically emitted this: “He was a pussy, and his music is a bunch of whining.” In a way he isn’t wrong. Kurt could’ve and should’ve sought help for the sake of his family and friends, but mostly for himself. He chose not to. He chose to let his addiction destroy him. I could’ve ended up the same way, and still could, but I’m choosing not to. At one point when I was drunkenly trying to state my beliefs on the subject my dad cut me off and said: “Ryan, you need to stop reading so much into everything.” I disagree to this day. I’m not trying to talk shit about my old man. He’s also one of my heroes as well and always will be, but he didn’t understand my thought process at the time. I’m not religious, and never will be. I’m an artist. I don’t choose to look at things a certain way. That’s just the way I am. If I do believe in something close to religion it’s that everything happens for a reason, and there’s always something waiting to be uncovered that’s the cause of it. Whether it’s the way someone acts or an event in general, and whether or not this is because of a higher power I’m not sure, and don’t need to be.

I’m not going to fight my thought process anymore. I’m not going to shut it down or degrade it. I’m going to embrace it the way I always should’ve, and I’m going to kick this world in the ass, instead of letting it kick me.