I been sick the last few days- I am on day five of a headache, sinus infection, and overall everything just being sore. The doc ordered fluids and rest. Which has me thinking that I have a bed with a headboard now- yes I am so fancy. I mean I think when you move your mattress off the floor you officially become an adult. Usually the progression goes from mattress on floor, mattress on a frame, and then boom headboard!You have officially won at life so bring on the kids and 401 This headboard keeps me up at night- it squeaks a lot, and I have to put a pillow in between it and the wall to shut it up. I think it even mocks me sometimes- yes, I will say without a doubt the headboard mocks me. It also gives me the illusion I have made it. It makes me let down my guard and be like life I got you- check out this headboard. But sometimes- and especially with my recovery- I feel like I should just have a mattress on the floor. Who am I trying to impress with this fancy headboard? I think sometimes we all get caught up in appearances rather than reality. Sometimes on the outside we present ourselves to the world one way- when in the inside we would rather be snuggling our Linus security blanket on the mattress on the floor. It’s comforting and we know how it feels down there. Having a headboard is scary- it represents change and that I am growing as a person. But I am changing and I do accept my life is now going to be full of headboards- it’s one of the so-called perks of growing up. And if I am lucky one day I might even be able to share this headboard- but I hope the lucky lady knows I am in no rush for her to see this status of adulthood on my bed. That my intentions are pure and I would never do anything to harm her. Because I understand how fragile it is coming back from the mattress on the floor, and I know fellows like me can be her poison. So I am cool with just being the extra blanket hanging out on the end of the bed. And hopefully she knows she can always rely on me to snuggle, and to warm her up when those nights get too cold. But she will also always have her foundation of that beautiful quilted comforter she worked so hard to make, making sure she followed the steps to perfect it so she can always wrap herself up in that warmness when she needs it. As I finish writing this I lay alone, and my head still pounds. The headboard squeaks if I move- and I try to ponder life as this coffee fails to awaken me fast enough. Sometimes I wish I had something beautiful next to me so we could curse that damn headboard together- but I don’t and that’s fine because everything is the way it should be right now- and the headboard squeaks because recovery itself is not perfect. Life is not perfect. Love is not perfect. The only thing that is perfect is a genuine connection between two lost souls- and even in that perfection the headboard would still squeak in the background.
I quarantined myself to my house like I was in that Alway’s Sunny Episode (shout out to Boyz II Men). This mental obsession seems to grow worse everyday, and if I leave I know alcohol would be the first thing I searched for. I am mindlessly watching old episodes of Hell’s Kitchen in a bit of a librium haze. Loneliness surrounds me, and all I want is the embrace of all those past lovers I left behind for the warm embrace of alcohol instead. Alcohol is the most enticing mistress I know- never has something just touching my lips gave me such comfort before, and with the ability to take away all my negative feelings. But tonight is almost over, and ideally tomorrow will be another day sober. I know my insecurity is the devil’s tool that is consuming my mind in these early days. That fear that wipes over me as I get sober is normal since I am taking away the solution I have used for so long to mask myself. But think about the fact that any perceived insecurities are created from false thoughts created inside me, or from belief in the false negative from outside influences that take myself away from realizing the truth in myself. So today I am looking deep into me heart and realizing this obsession will past. Even though tonight will be brutal- this discomfort will help me grow. Or so I have to believe this to get through the night.
It’s day four and sometimes my brain feels like it’s fighting itself- when I start to feel good I always want to destroy it. I realize that for some reason I hate myself deep down and I don’t know why. Alcohol helps with the sabotage turning myself into that person I despise. The person who tries to ruin every relationship I have. I am trying to change this, but I don’t know how to sometimes, and I just feel pain. I want to find the love I am missing inside, and I am going to keep on searching. If not only for myself, but for my sister, niece and nephew for the love they lost I want to regain. So on day four I want to give myself the gift of forgiveness, and I hope that freedom allows me to work to be forgiven for all my past sins. I know words can’t undue what I said or how act while drinking, but I hope as time passes in this new year I can work my way back to the person I know I am deep inside, and hopefully you will get to know that person too as I continue to write more. Today has been brutal. Every portion of the soul of my body wants to drink. The Librium the doctor gave me is not helping as much as I would like. My IOP and the hour long yoga session web did helped for a bit. In the session today they asked when they should know when I was bullshitting them and myself- and I said when I hide my emotions and pretend everything is alright. I also admitted for my initial intake interview this past Monday I had a fifth of vodka with me, and never told my counselor about that Edgar Allen Poe Tell Tale Heart in my pocket. It was my eldest brother’s birthday that day which was something else I failed to mention. He is currently in jail for triple murder from a schizophrenic break from reality when he murdered our sister, four year old niece, and two year old nephew in a blackout. I have just rekindled a relationship with him after s few years, and understand he was mentally ill and not in his right mind during that fine. Although I hate the situation I don’t hate him. The realization was I hate myself for my reaction to it after it. That incident is what led to my alcohol dependence, and the turmoil I put myself into in the aftermath. So today I am reaching out for help, and putting my faith in this universe around us. And also opening myself up to all you strangers reading this, and hoping my honesty can help another person, and also my own self struggling just be able to get through another day.
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.
Patrick Bernard 