I have a largely addictive personality. Vices are a normality to me (and so I try my best to not look at vices as a negative thing) and balance is something I’ve always struggled to achieve.
I love the grey area. I live and strive in it. I’m generally a driven, positive, happy and motivated person 99% of the year. I’m a great shoulder to lean on for friends in need (I actually genuinely like picking up the pieces and helping people mend), and an even better ass kicker when needed, but logic wins, and every now and then I crash.
Too much of a good thing.
I drink to get drunk. I smoke to get high. I’ve been drinking and smoking since I was a teenager. I love being fucked up just as much as I love being straight. Last year I had an epic wobbly. I wasn’t sleeping much (about 4-5hrs a night). I was smoking way too much weed, and instead of feeling all the benefits (calming anxiety, feeling creative etc) I felt the opposite. I had my very first anxiety attack. I don’t even really want to talk about it as thinking about it scares me so much. I can only describe it as a pain you want to massage, but for some reason you can’t quite find the spot to massage.
I bounced back from that pretty quickly by cutting down, but for the past few months I’ve fallen into that hole again. Smoking too much which in turn has me ignoring people, losing motivation and most crucially losing self love. Just the other day I hit the bottom once again, I even had a good cry on the phone to a friend (who was fucking shocked lol! I’ve not cried since my Dad died when I was 18, and holy fucking shit crying felt so fucking amazing!!!!!!!! MUST CRY MORE!).
So 3 days ago I broke my bong, with my Dad’s hammer too which I’ve held on to ever since I was a kid. It felt good. I’m feeling sharper already 3 days in. I’m smoking more ciggies and tempted to hit the booze, but I’m sure I’ll cut those down too in good time.
Rehab is for quitters.
In regards to drugs. I’m not sure I want to quit drugs entirely. I love how my mind works on drugs. I love myself, and if I really wanted to quit I am sure I could, but if I “try” to quit and I don’t succeed, well then surely I’d find myself liking myself a little less and that’s a sure recipe for disaster.
/rant.
PS: It feels good to get this out. If reading this has triggered some thoughts, whether it’s a similar experience, or tips on cutting down or even quitting, or anything really! I’d love to hear them, so please share in the comments below.
