It’s day three sober and my brain has me feeling like the Geto Boys as I stay steady staring at candles like my mind was playing tricks on me wishing I could be like Holden Caufield- just a catcher in the rye. Just standing on some crazy cliff catching addicts before they fall off into the abyss. I wish I can catch their pain, sadness, and fear and devour it away. Just take it all and store it into my soul. I know eventually one day all that ugliness, sorrow, and horror would tear apart my insides like a machetes through the unwanted orphans that surround my heart- but I would do it. And I know I could carry it for them, and if that pain destroyed me it would be worth it to free just one person from that living purgatory that seemed more like hell than hell could possibly be. And I would gladly choke on the bile of bitterness trapped in my throat all day if I could see just a hint of happiness in their heart. I would devour that pain with a smile if they only asked me to. Because suffering for the freedom of others is a noble gift. And self sacrifice- even when it means eternal damnation for yourself- is truly blissful at the end. For I was blessed to carry this pain with me so they wouldn’t have to.
Tag: self-care
A Catch 22 on Day 2
As night falls on Day 2 of sobriety, and the wind grows as cold as my soul has felt these last few weeks drowning in liquor, I am not feeling my normal detox symptoms. My usual extreme anxiety, tremors, creepy crawling skin, and a brain that feels like it’s on loop as if it was a air ballon lost in a hurricane hasn’t happened-well yet. The mental obsession is here of course- but weirdly the cravings haven’t had me figuring out ways to sneak to the liquor store. It could be that I am on high alert, and finally went to a new IOP that I thoroughly enjoyed this morning. Or, maybe, this blog thing is keeping my anxiety in check because I am not keeping any secrets from the world anymore. Being vulnerable is terrifying because it opens you up to emotions which can paralyze you in fear. Fear which makes you settle for a comfort zone that makes you miserable. But misery can be a safety blanket from that fear. The catch 22 of pain because it’s all you know. I have lived for so many years in a haze of anesthesia numbing myself with anyway I knew just so I didn’t have to feel life. Emotions terrified me. And from that fear I ruined so many relationships, friendships, and opportunities for success. But I finally realized my greatest strength is vulnerability because it makes me feel pain so I can experience joy again; a freedom to connect with others, and break down my wall. A freedom to pursue my dreams and realize even if I fail I am growing. And most importantly a path to the peace I have always been searching for under those bright stars that hide in the sunlight. Never had failure looked so tempting because on the other end is the journey to the joy of success.
Emotions Are Terrorists
Emotions are terrorists to our brains. They are grenades that shatter reality and destroy rational thought. It’s funny how depression can take everything beautiful in my life and distort it to all I see is ugly. How it can make everything wonderful in my soul- in my heart- and in my life become a weapon of self destruction. Ohh how many nighs I fought it off-did what I was supposed to became the Hulk Hogan of recovery- I said my prayers, took my meds, followed the steps, and helped others- everything they told me would keep that pain away. But then the pain resurfaced- disguised in a new garb- not thrift-shop but a fancy outfit this time. I didn’t see it coming. Slowly the pain started to distort my view- the beauty of the forest disguised by a dead tree-diseased and pock marked like an old man whose only joy is being the proprietor of sin- never realizing the so called the whores at his disposals where actually angels lusting for their wings. I don’t know why god needed me to hit so much pain again- but he did and I hit it. And I hope it’s the last time he asks me to do that because I am not sure I can overcome it the next time. My soul is getting tired- and I just want to be free someday. So maybe if I tell someone it will relieve it. Maybe if I confess I am tired god won’t see fit to have me trudge through this misery anymore. Cause god am I tired- so fucking tired.
That Day One Sober
Yesterday I passed out while drinking a fifth of vodka. I was supposed to be detoxing, but instead of reaching out to the people that care in my life I decided to pour the one thing that keeps ruining my life down my throat. I worry without alcohol I won’t be able to write, be creative, or even dj again. My depression and suicidal ideation doesn’t help- but alcohol only increases these abhorrent thoughts. It’s a sit and spin of increased terror. I am riding deranged Disney tea cups that will never stop until I pass out, and vow once again never to drink. Alcohol has already ruined so much in my life from friendships, to girls I loved, to jobs I gave away for a simple taste of spirits, and finally the trust of my family. So this is day one of sobriety. It’s funny how I think putting this out to the world of the internet will keep me more accountable. And maybe in the end it will, and ideally maybe help someone else who is struggling. Day one for me is usually a lot easier than day two or three. My anxiety stays relatively low, and the guilt and shame from my last debacle usually keeps the cravings at bay for those 24 hours or so. I like to isolate which is not the healthiest, but I did get to see my family for brunch today which helped. Usually I am avoiding the world- specifically social media or text messages- because I have tendency to blackout and send messages that are embarrassing, inappropriate, angry, or a combination of all the above. Honesty will set me free they say. So if anyone is reading this that has received that type of message from me I feel like that Casual song, “I Didn’t Mean To.” That’s for the obscure 90’s rap heads, and it’s actually about him hooking up with a girl with a boyfriend-which does make sense since I did cheat on my sobriety with that devil named vodka. But today I stayed sober. Tomorrow is another day and another test. But I will pray tonight to help me trudge forward with god in my heart, and Wu Tang in my headphones.
Broken Resolutions
I am not big on resolutions-especially New Year’s one. I used to have a blog called Drunk and Focused which I wrote about drinking, culture, music, and even reviewed every flavor of Maddog 2020. But it’s the first day of 2019, and my first day sober once again- and yes I know how fucking cliche it is to get sober on January 1st. Getting sober on the first is on some basic as fuck shit that it could be an American Eagle commercial. This also a chance to prove I am not washed up in the blog game. This site will not just be about not drinking, though I will journal each day of my sobriety, but it will also highlight the myriad of many other things fucking up my mind these days. So I will write about the joys of mental illness, rap music, tv, pop culture, rants, wrestling, why you should never Facebook message people while in a blackout, and a place to share my writing to prove all that student loan debt I am in was totally worth it to get an MFA. So get ready for the return of the LeBron James of this blog game- this time with a 12 step habit.
Patrick Bernard 