7/5/24

“As you know, madness is like gravity…all it takes is a little push.”
― The Joker – Heath Ledger

Just shy of a year of sobriety I’ve only begun to understand my disease of alcoholism. A disease that brings with it a voice. A voice that mimics my own. A familiar sounds that seems almost impossible to ignore. A voice that comes in passing thoughts. A loud whisper. The lies it feeds me. A trap it sets. I have only myself to blame. A mind that’s constantly being convinced to feel shit that’s simply untrue. Believe the visions that replay through what someone might call a normal day. It’s like playing pretend… only these days are not fun. I could spend hours searching. Wasted days just in a spiral and still not find a reset button. The same thought. The same voice.  Almost a year.. well you could probably just handle one now. 

I allow the voice to act up and cause  internal drama. Mentally I broke myself when I put down that drink. As I continue to dig deeper this all started way before I picked up that first drink. I’m too hard on myself. This has been my life. The feeling feels normal. I expect the best out of me. If it not good enough everything will be looked at as a failure. If I don’t fuck this up… then the world will. I want to be perfect all the while knowing perfection is unachievable. But still that’s the standard I must set for myself. I’ve seen so many people become what they used to laugh at. Am I now one of these people? Do you still think I am a good person?

I attack my sobriety with the same mentality. Stay committed and keep coming back. Raise your hand no matter how much the other one is shaking. Make the change so you can change the narrative. Do the next right thing and good things will follow. Then there’s days I’m waiting for that good thing to follow. Days are low points in this moment. Days when the voice is almost deafening. A mind with no off switch. Thoughts are like a lighter to gasoline. Sleep is where I do find relief. A break from the insanity. But how can an anxious mind begin to feel safe when it is asleep? 

There’s days when I think I could be a better friend. However I’d be there for you even on my worse days. I’ll paint a smile so that you don’t worry. Because today is about you. What can I do to help… YOU? I’ll be there for you because I don’t want you to know how its feels. To think no one is going to be there. But does a good friend lie? When asked and I say I’m good. You?  It comes from a good place I tell myself only just to justify it. Rationalize it. Sometimes I’m afraid to ask for help. Because I’m afraid of what you may think. I don’t want you to worry. You have your own lives and I don’t want you affected by mine. I don’t know how to live sober. I feel so stupid for even saying that sentence but its the best way I know how to describe the feeling inside. In between the highs and the lows. There’s a fine line I’m trying to walk. I don’t allow peace because I used to thrive in chaos. But I have tasted it in sobriety. It is pretty sweet. I feel as if I’m hanging on to every good thing. Good moment. Clutching every milestone as each one passes. As if letting them go will cause me to suffocate as I come back down.

As one day spills into the next I say I’m feeling better. A response without thinking. I do feel better. But am I really? When everything around me remained the same. Mentally, myself included. Nothing changes if nothing changes. People say I’ve changed. Agreement to the fact I’m a different kinda person. Inside. Some days. Feeling like I’m still that 7 year old that was never taught how to self love. Searching for someone to see the sadness in me. I don’t want attention. Or to become a burden.  It’s easier to type some days than to live with thoughts people are all talking about me. 

Mentally I’m still a mess. Maybe after the next 11 months I will have a better handle. Currently I still feel like I’m being put to the test. Time. Things change with time. Maybe I’ll find a better way with time. Most days I understand why my disease reacts the way it does. I’m an alcoholic. I allow the voice to sit inside me. I listen  intently as it begins to preach. Mentally the days become exhausting. Looking for an outlet. I choose to type. My circle is small. The inner circle is even smaller. It’s your voices that hold me up on the days when I feel stuck. I forget sometimes that this too shall pass. But when your mind is racing it’s hard to see anything that not directly in front of you. I hope I keep inspiring those around me. Even if I don’t feel always worthy of your friendship. I’m grateful for your existence. Because it’s you guys who are able to understand the voice of my alcoholism.