I used to embrace my hangovers. I used to wear my bloodshot eyes as badges of honor, a reminder of how hard I had partied the night before, how far I was willing to push myself. I used to enjoy my next day on the couch, or the bed, or the bathroom floor, foolishly thinking that it was the price to be paid for having a good time. I used to honestly believe that the pain was necessary, the guilt and shame that accompanied it were just parts of life. I felt this was something I had to go through on a regular basis in order to feel some sort of emotion. Maybe not happiness or even good at all, but at least it felt real.
When I was in high school my life changed. No one died, I didn’t get sick, nothing outwardly tragic happened. I moved. I left the place that was familiar and comfortable for a place that was foreign and cold. Eagan's a cold place to newcomers. Not that big of a deal, I know. Tons of high school kids do it every year, a lot of my good friends moved in high school and were fine. Then there was me, I didn’t want to make friends, I didn’t want to fit in. So I didn’t. I taught myself how to be cold, how to get along alone, how to forget about caring. To largely forget about what it meant to be happy. And that’s still a huge part of my life. To be unfeeling, uncaring. If you don’t get attached, you don’t get hurt. Every young adult understands this lesson to some extent. When you don’t get too up in life you can’t fall that far. I fell that far in my own way, and never wanted it to happen again.
So time passed, and I made new friends, really good friends. I’m beyond fortunate to call some of the best people in the world my good friends. But I never let up with trying to keep myself distant, not caring, not being let down. And somewhere in towards the end of high school and the beginning of college I discovered alcohol. Here was an escape, a path allowing me to feel something, be it a euphoric high or a horribly depressing hangover. But at the same time, I didn’t have to get too close. I could always blame everything on being drunk. Drinking itself doesn’t interest me, it’s the being out of control, the allowing myself some emotion, and some feeling that I’m so into. I think it’s time I let go of alcohol and figured out how to feel something without 15-30 drinks beforehand. I have, even before drugs and alcohol, a really self-destructive streak. Maybe its for attention, I’m not entirely sure. I want to see how badly I can fuck up, to get someone, anyone to pay attention to me. Which leads me to doing incredibly stupid things. I am exceptionally talented at fucking up the good things I have going in my life. The worst part about it is that when I know that I’m fucking up, and I make no attempt to change my actions.
This last month has been a really horrible one. I’ve managed to offend just about every single one of my good friends. I’ve offended friends of friends. Cab drivers. It takes a lot to get kicked out of First Ave. Bartenders, servers and bouncers. Old friends and new alike, it’s made no difference. I’d met the most wonderful girl, the first new girl that I’ve met in so long who made me feel something, and I’ve completely pushed her out of my life. I was afraid. I was weak and immature, and as soon as things didn’t go exactly how I wanted them to, I freaked out. I was so mean, so hurtful, that it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t want to be friends at all, let alone something more.
I’m sorry to every single one of my friends. I’m sorry to my family. I’m sorry to the people I’ve hurt directly, and those I’ve ignored. I am a better person than this. You deserve better from me.
They say you have to hit rock bottom before you can get better, I think this is as far as I want to go.
A few years ago, I saw a psychiatrist for awhile, was on medications for depression and anxiety. Not a lot of people know that. Now a lot do, and I’m ok with that. I’d even recommend therapy to most people. I had a lot of family issues, I resented my parents for moving me in high school, and haven’t really gotten along with them since. I was having trouble with school, work, friends, and for the first time, drinking. The meds might have helped, maybe not, but I wasn’t really getting any better, so I ran away. That’s something I’ve learned, it’s easier not to get close to people, to allow them to get close to you if you’re not around them. So I ran, and felt better for awhile. Eventually things got worse, so I ran away again and got better.
When I take off, it’s because I can’t handle my situation anymore. School, family, friends, work, girls. I quit school because I couldn’t handle it. Not the work, just the routine, the normalcy, the fact that it made me a functioning person, it made me normal. I could only do it for so long before I started getting restless, drinking more, drinking harder. The same thing with my friends. My wonderful friends make me feel so good, better than I feel myself, I couldn’t handle them. There’s a really good Henry Rollins’ quote talking about his fans, strangers, who love his music, “I don’t like myself as much as they like me. How fucked up I am these days.” That’s exactly how I’ve felt for so long. I have such amazing friends, the best people in the world. I don’t like myself, so how can they like me? And so I drive them away, and if that doesn’t work then I run away.
I had always thought I was searching for a home, someplace I’d feel like I belong. Somewhere along the way I realized that you have to feel right inside before you can feel like you belong. I haven’t felt right on the inside for as long as I can remember, but I don’t feel like running anymore. So I’m not going to. This has to stop, I need to feel good again.
This is my declaration to everyone I know.
I’m going to be a better person. And I know it’s going to take time. I’m going to lay off the drinking to get trashed and out of control. I’m going to stop the destructive behavior as a way to get attention. I probably won’t go out very much for awhile, I don’t know that I can have just one beer or even a couple beers without having a dozen beers. I’m tired of my hangovers and the shame of trying to figure out just who I need to apologize to the next day. As ridiculous of a job as I have, I like it because it’s steady. I like the normalcy, the routine. It makes me feel like an adult. And I want to be a writer, so I’m going to work on that, but I’m going to keep this job too. I’m going to start working out more regularly, eating healthier too. I’m going to start going to church more regularly. I know that I probably don’t believe all of it, but I do know that it gives me a sense of peace, maybe it’s the routine, but maybe it’s something more. I’m going to be as sweet as I can to that girl, maybe it’s not too late. And if it is, I’m going to work on being alright with that. I’m going to get right with my family, they deserve better from me. I’m going to get right with myself.
I’m going to be a better person.
This is going to take time, but I’m going to work at it. I’m ready to be happy. Thank you for all you’ve done for me.
1 comment:
I think this is my favorite one.
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