I woke up this morning reflecting upon my time in active addiction, and the process which led me to surrender to the possibility of something different. I seem to always do that this time of the year having just celebrated another "birthday" in sobriety. On January 31, 2011, I got sober. I finally conceded to my innermost self that I was/am an alcoholic and my life had become unmanageable. I had been stalled out, wheels spinning, halfway through that process for many years before the day finally came. See, I knew from the first time I took a drink that there was a chance I may be an addict. I was certainly compulsive, and I was certainly gaining relief... and I most certainly could not wait until the next time I could numb myself out with whatever chemicals I could get my hands on ...so with what little bit of knowledge I had about alcoholism and drug abuse (my grandmother is in recovery, and i occasionally attended meetings with her as a kid)..... I figured maybe i fit the bill. BUT I didn't care. Not even one bit. Because in the early stages of my disease, the chemicals worked. They worked for what ailed me.... like medicine for a heartache... like ointment for a gaping emotional wound. And I used them just in that way. They worked when I was depressed and couldn't bear the weight of the world. They worked when I was happy and waiting for the other shoe to drop. They worked when I felt judged and unloved....when I found out I couldn't pray the gay away. They worked when my past caught up with me..... day after day. They worked when i didn't want to deal with the path of destruction I'd created as a result of my addiction. As a matter of fact, they never stopped working. I was always able to achieve the desired effects produced by alcohol and drugs, but the time got shorter between the high and the low. Toward the end, I spent most of my time chasing that feeling (or lack thereof) which once would come to stay for an entire evening. For now it would only visit in brief moments throughout the night, and each time it would abandon me again, the fall was harder. I knew how to find it, but I literally always wondered if it would be the last time. There is nothing worse than trying to focus in on reality when you've created so many of them. I chased and chased and was eluded each time.
Now that I'm sober, i can see clearly where some things began to turn for the worse. When i was in 8th grade, we moved to a bigger school. Mom and dad thought it would provide more opportunity for my brother and I, and boy did it, although, I'm convinced the trajectory of my life would have been the same no matter what town i lived in or which school i attended. When i arrived, i felt an intense need to fit in. Essentially i had transitioned from big fish to minnow in a matter of minutes... or at least, that's how it felt. When basketball season commenced and everyone figured out i could dribble and shoot a round leather ball a little better than most, i had no shortage of 'friends'. And though i could hide behind my athletic talent, i NEVER felt like i fit ANYWHERE. I always knew i felt most comfortable with the "outcasts", but by this time, there were certain things expected of me, and hanging around "goth kids", or "band geeks", or the smart kids even, were certainly not acceptable. So, i suppose i did what most kids do when they are confused and scared.... i acted accordingly. This included behaviors such as forsaking who I was in order to allow people to be discriminated against in my presence and/or not standing up for their rights. Because, after all, they were my rights, too.. I was just so terrified that someone might find out. I was so terrified that someone might find out i was "different" too that I literally shunned myself to avoid the fray. Oh, the irony...
I remember trying a few different tactics throughout those years in an attempt to salvage some part of who i was. It usually materialized in the form of wearing baggy clothes or not fixing my hair... or some other type of completely unrelated rage against the machine. I was a kid, and i didn't know how to articulate my feelings so naturally, i began "acting out". I was rude to my teachers. I was an asshole to my classmates. Like taking a jackhammer to the foundation of who i really was. It was the best and worst of times, and to some extent, i think everyone goes through it. I just had this weird set of circumstances where i was gifted and talented and pretty and some of my relatives were teachers, and i could easily hide behind all of those things. I could wear them like armor into battle against myself. I grew to resent all of them at one point or another while simultaneously shuttering at the pain I stood to suffer without them. I remember when i would dress like a boy or not fix my hair or wear make up... my friends would beg me to let them make me over. "But you're so pretty." "So and so has a crush on you, don't you wanna look hot." Um, no. The answer was no, but I got the makeover anyway. In retrospect, i think everyone was just trying to help, but on my end, the message was always the same.... you are not okay the way you are. And so...eventually i conformed. Which prompted an immediate and rapid spiral into the abyss. To conform is to spit in the face of who i am. To conform was, is, and always will amount to imprisonment for me. I can say now... looking back on all the times in my life when i allowed it... if i should ever allow it again, i sincerely hope i stop breathing soon after. Because i will be dead already. I've sold out more times than I'd like to admit, and it is a complete disservice. It doesn't serve me and most of all, it doesn't serve the greater good of humanity. It's not about rebellion. It's about never compromising the divinely unique purpose within.
This reminds me of a poem i wrote in Mexican History class at Oklahoma State. Most of my college notebooks are full of material unrelated to education... of the collegiate variety, anyway:
I should preface this poem by creating an image of the notebook page itself. In the top right corner it reads, "10:15 am, Thursday, 9-21-00, Thinkin'....). In the middle of margin at the top of the page I drew a giant arrow pointing downward toward the poem below and above it, it simple says, "Me."
Then the words:
Only the lonely are lost in this crowd,
And only the silent are screaming aloud,
For all who are higher are living below,
the platform of morals that humble men know.
But wandering still in such vacant disguise,
Are those who have chosen their spirit's demise,
And all for what reason has life welcomed death?
If only for loneliness breath after breath..
In search of companionship, comrades.... or foes,
No matter the company, solitude grows.
So now our society's kings have conferred.
That only the lonely can "choose" to be heard.
Yet many a man will expire alone,
Dispersing the heartache which once was his own.
And those who befriended his fortune and fame,
will soon not remember his soul or his name.
'Tis so superficial, this life we all lead,
Where money is power... and power is greed.
And all that we are is enveloped in wealth,
Now soon we'll be nothing in absence of health.
This poem is still one which speaks loudly to me each time i read it. I am so grateful i can look back on that time in my life and continue to learn the most valuable of lessons. TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE. The people who mind don't matter, and the people who matter don't mind. And perhaps the most profound ... live in love. Because love... real love... doesn't need approval or money or fame or boyfriends or straight A's or face paint. Love is enough. And loving myself, though it took years to accomplish, is the only way to truly give it back. I have no capacity for it if i don't believe I am among the ones who truly deserve it. In sobriety, I've learned more about why i drank and more about how i eventually used and perpetuated the pain in my life to continue drinking... because there came a point when i didn't know how to exist any other way. Sobriety has allow me to compile these experiences into a reference book, and i can open this book any time it is needed without pain. I embrace them just as much as i have embraced the pleasant parts of this journey because someone else will need them someday. And i will be able to share them... just as someone once showed their own scars to me. And that is love at it's finest.
I could go on about love and shit all day, but it's time for me to go upstairs to the art studio and give it legs. :) Be back soon...
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