There are two kinds of people who don’t drink. The extreme religious types and recovering alcoholics. I am neither and I don’t drink, yes I used to be very religious and learned my morals from a church but now I am no longer part of a religion I have chosen to keep the values which I feel will benefit my life. I don’t know if I will ever understand the concept of getting drunk for fun. I am not slating any of you who drink as I respect your right do to so, so please don’t attack me unnecessarily. I just don’t get it? I understand how someone would drink to numb the pain or self abuse but for fun? I am someone who constantly feels out of control and the last thing I would want is to really be out of control. As a young adult it does make me feel a bit of an outcast that I don’t want to drink alcohol and get drunk but then I’ve tried it once or twice and just felt like a fraud. It just wasn’t me, it wasn’t what I wanted to do. So now I’m weird because I don’t do it. I just don’t see how making an idiot out of yourself and then throwing up continuously can be seen as exciting? It sounds frightening to me. I don’t want to lose self respect or wonder who I may have slept with. I’ve had so many people really attack me for saying I don’t want to drink, it’s like instead of people hearing “I don’t like drinking alcohol” they hear “I hate black people”. I wrote this post because I was discussing Uni with a friend and he said “I’ve heard the first year of Uni is great because you get to get pissed all the time!” Great…I thought, isn’t University about studying for your future? All I hear outside my window every night are drunk people screaming or shouting at or attacking each other and it makes me scared. I remember a “friend” who said I was very high and mighty because I don’t like getting drunk and I just felt like I was talking to a brick wall. Everything I said was wrong and to him I hated everyone who drank alcohol but that’s not true. I dislike the alcohol. I have people in my family who NEED to drink to be sociable or loosen up and it makes me sad that they can’t achieve these things without being a little intoxicated. It’s a problem that nobody sees as a problem. We should be able to have fun without alcohol shouldn’t we? I can’t even count how many time I’ve heard “How can you have fun without drinking?!” And I just think well, I just don’t drink and enjoy other people’s company or whatever I’m doing. Isn’t it that simple? I’m not saying don’t have a drink to have fun I’m just saying people shouldn’t think it’s impossible to enjoy life without a few drinks. I’ve known alcoholics and how destroyed their lives can become and how it effects the people around them. Yet we freely allow ourselves to say “I need a few drinks to get loosened up.” There shouldn’t be a need…right? Or am I just horribly ignorant…Why am I so horribly different? And why do I have to feel so outcast because I want to have control and don’t enjoy the taste of alcohol. I don’t understand. All addictions are harmful and I just wish people were more careful. There are so many people who when they are upset, get a drink. That’s one of the bad habits that can turn anyone into an alcoholic. And nobody deserves to have to suffer with addiction. That’s why I don’t drink. If only I didn’t feel the need to have an excuse to not drink.
Archive for the ‘Numb’ Category
Dear Little Me,
Why did you have to be so awkward. There are reasons why they never liked you, why they used you. Even your parents couldn’t love you enough, especially her, she only loved you if she wanted something. And he was always selfish, you were always second. Why couldn’t you just be good enough. You were always overweight and disgusting, that’s why they laughed at you. That’s why they called you a freak. You were just weird, not good enough to be their friends. They were better than you. Sure, you were smart but who cared about that? You thought maybe being smart would get you somewhere even if you weren’t attractive but you were just too quiet to be noticed. Plus, your friends were smarter than you anyway, so you were never smart enough. I know you tried to look nice but you made a fool of yourself. They laughed and asked what was on your face or what had you done to your hair. You just could never get it right. Your clumsiness made you stupid, your clumsiness made them hit you. You stupid child. Nothing made sense in your world anymore, you could never figure out why you were hated. But did they need a reason, you were just destined to be locked away. You hid a lot, I know, it was safer to be alone. You cried and made sure no one heard and if there was a knock on your door, your face was immediately bright and cheerful, of course nothing was wrong. But maybe you deserved to cry? Not that it mattered. No one would come. No one would know what to do with you. Even if they did, they would get sick of you and leave at the first chance. Why did you keep going? I don’t know what possessed you. Did you believe that one day, you would be saved? What made you think they would suddenly change and take care of you. Are you delusional? I think so. Who in your life has never stabbed you through the heart? Everyone is destined to break you because you are breakable. And hell, do you deserve it.
Love Adult Me.
The first things that always comes to mind are hard drugs and alcohol, sometimes extending towards sex/prostitutes/gambling (i.e. the glamorous life ;] ) but it’s the quiet ones; the simple, succulent subtle self-services that keep our days ticking over. Well all have them, don’t deny it…..
“What’s yer poison?”
It’s gone. It’s all gone, you feel EVERYTHING closing down, falling in, it’s all lots it’s all gone. GONE. Look up, see the sky, see it shrink – feel the sunlight leave your skin……… nothing left…….
Think about that for a moment; really think about it. Now imagine it, imagine how it would feel to lose the most important thing that’s been keeping you going for a very very, long time.
That’s when people realise, that’s when they see what has happened – you’re dependant. You’re utterly, completely, undeniably dependant on that one thing, that one key vice that you’ve physically and mentally bound yourself too in order to prop yourself up in the swirling storm of life.
Then all can see the perfectly pinnacle point of pressure released all at once when you lose your vice. Viciously vicarious, you wish you could replace – yet only to find an equally seductive replacement.
So you’re dependant? So you freaked out like all hell was breaking loose and freezing over at the same damn time when you lost your one deliciously dependant lifeline and guess what? It’s your fault. It’s always your fault.
At least, that’s what other people will tell you, that’s what they’ll think and you can bet that’s what they’ll believe too.
Why? Ignorance; where? Anywhere it occurs; what? Well anything, you’re clearly a bad person to be so dependant on anything; who? Anyone, it doesn’t matter, people think they know – they think they can tell; when? The instant it becomes apparent – and it will become apparent.
People see the consequences not the causes because consequences are easy to see, easy to spot and easy to assume the cause of.
Alcoholism? – Clearly an alcoholic drunk, they made a specific decision to become dependant on the devil’s breath and they must, therefore, suffer the full consequences.
Or not? Perhaps? Free will has it’s part to pay of course, there was at some point in example A’s life when they decided hmm, maybe if I have another drink, it will make my day that bit better. Then the next day, then the day after that and before you know it; you’re dependant. You need to have your fix because if you don’t you don’t want to keep existing without it and the only thing other people see is how it’s your fault for deciding to become addicted, you clearly aren’t mentally and physically capable enough to control your own life and surroundings and thus don’t deserve to have full control over them.
Which came first? The chicken or the egg…
My point being it’s never that clear cut and only myopic fools consider their instantaneous judgement of such a complex situation to be instantly correct. Sure, people become addicted and lose control of their life. Yet similarly: Sure, people have had control over their life taken from them. Now how easy is it to decide which came first?
What is addiction? It is a defence mechanism, as common as any other, inherent in every human being on the planet. So you’re saying people that becoming addicted to a certain something are doing it because they’re under attack?
Why yes, yes I am. Addiction is a defence mechanism because it is a Coping mechanism; it internalises any and potentially all problems we are unable to resolve normally by any means and thus ignore, or just aggravate unconsciously – resulting in addiction. With things out of your control, you find something you can control to give you ever essence of release you are in dire need of because you’ve tried and you sure can’t find it anywhere else. Yet only when you’re waist-deep in the glorious glorious freedom of addictive release do you realise – you can’t get out and as soon as that addiction goes nothing can get out. You kick and you scream and you sue the world for all it’s wonders just for that next delicate drop of release.
People CAN control how they act but so can other people too. You can’t look at one person’s problems objectively without looking at least five other’s too. That is because as a social species, we are constantly interconnect and interacting with each other.
“Where mister, are you getting your facts?”
Why from observation of course – and the sad sad truth of personal experience.
So people can cause other people to find other, unconventional methods of dealing with someone else’s problems forced, unknowingly, upon them. Then it is a downward spiral and only when you’re halfway on your way to doom and despair do people realise that something is amiss – and then they blame it wholly-incorrectly on the addictee.
Addictions can be broken, you can escape and the point I’m trying to make is keep trying. Search for help where you can find it and where you may have the slightest inkling that your confidant may understand. That’s what’s helping me, and there are more than one (although not that many more…) and they can do their best to help salvage your situation and tackle the real problems, you know the kind of people I’m on about and if you don’t…. open your eyes and realise that they’re already there, just waiting for you to reach out.
Addiction is one of the few real tragedies in life and the blame is almost always impossible to pinpoint entirely; nor is it ever usually sensible to even try. Addiction can be beaten but first it must be understood. Once and only once you know your enemy in it’s entirety can it be stood up on two feat and defeated finally.
It may never leave, it’s rotting corpse may haunt your memories, I know that those explosive moments when you fought for freedom will continue to scare the living daylights out of you but I also know that they will pass and they will fade. I know that as you begin to fully appreciate your situation that you can begin to conquer it and that as you do, that rotting corpse of what was once that most sweet sweet joyous release will fade, ever further into your past as you step up and step forwards into the rest of your life. Free from addiction.
Yes assertively assailing assonance is assuredly one of mine most actively appraised addictions. It is small and may it never end.
This will only be short, I need my beauty sleep.
As all people with BPD, I have massive innapropriate moods swings. Lately, I’ve lost them, I’ve become very numb. My angry outbursts at my boyfriend for excessive gaming are gone, I no longer cry about feeling neglected, I haven’t cut myself over it, Dr L was confused. I’ve done it again, from one extreme to another but I’m sort of liking this one. I’ve stopped caring and numbed myself to the things that usually hurt me. It may not be a helpful mechanism but it’s so much less draining and I can breathe without pains in my chest. When I cry and scream, he continues gaming yet I feel like shit. When I don’t care, he carries on gaming but I’m not emotionally drained and I don’t hate myself. It seems good…for now.
Criteria 7 isn’t it…chronic feelings of emptiness. Hmm.
I am currently reading Sometimes I act Crazy. I am up to the chapter on the impulsitvity of borderlines and it explained that the difference in impulsivity with self harm is that with borderline it is mostly triggered by a dissapointment and not random. I thought that sounded very true, I don’t usually self harm without some kind of disappointment or feeling of abandonment. Although, in a way it made it sound like with other illnesses self harm is random, which I didn’t feel fair. But I wouldn’t know. My dad’s form of self harm is picking at wounds so they don’t heal, bad personal hygiene and just general not caring for himself. Which is definately different to mine. As mine is “planned”. I decide I’m going to do it, whereas neglect of hygeine and skin picking isn’t neccesarily decided upon, you just do it when you’re not feeling too good, out of laziness or just not caring.
I know I write about self harm a lot but so many people misunderstand. It is better that summer is almost over as I can don a cardigan all the time and not boil but sometimes I feel I shouldn’t be ashamed and go out without one anyway. I’m not neccasarily trying to show off my scars but I don’t want to have to hide myself just incase someone wants to judge me. In a way I hope someone who sees my scars will want to know why and maybe look up self harm online and even educate themselves, but I guess that might be wishful thinking and they will think I’m disturbed.
I remember when my aunt, who works as a receptionist at the child and family clinic, said to me “have you ever heard of something called cutting?” I looked at her confused and said of course I have. I was in shock that she had never heard of self harm or even knew that some people hurt themselves when depressed. She then asked if I I’d ever done and oddly I said in a cheerful voice yeah, as if I was stating the obvious. She was in shock when she saw my arms and I felt like saying “it’s not a big deal” because to me, it doesn’t feel like a big deal. I could be hurting my internal with drugs and alcohol instead. But it seems more acceptable to do that. When I see someone who has SH scars, I smile sadly. I’m not happy that they’re self harming but that they are not ashamed of their pain and that they are still here is enough. It makes me feel less alone. I want to say to them, “we can do this together”. And we can.