Update: I just took an alcohol shot prior to attending an N/A meeting. Go me!
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
I'm completely at a crossroads in my life right now. Once again, I'm afforded the opportunity to be my own person, albeit with certain restrictions, but I'm once again taking control of my life and attempting to ascend to a level that i know I should have already eclipsed. 24, employed full-time, and finally living life on the rules that are set before me, instead of being the rebel that I for so long glorified, attempting to convince myself that I was comfortable with the way i was living, when in reality, I lived in a fictional world that was induced primarily because of the lack of fucks alcohol allowed me to give, only waking up when my "turn up" money had depleted, or when the police were summoned because of my intense irrationality, and my constant justification of such.
As a former stoner, I look at the drinker that I had become, and have nothing but disgust for that side of me. From enjoying a few shots to drinking an entire pint of alcohol to fucking look forward to after a shitty retail job, it was one of the most pathetic times of my life, and in true alcoholic-Tim fashion, I hid it quite well, only slipping when the intoxication superseded my rationality, to the point of complete blackouts while still somehow interacting with other people.
I miss the marijuana and the memories it allowed me to experience. From driving up and down New Jersey fixing computers and phones, to just smoking out in my car inventing new ways to make money, it was a reality that played like a dream, and my descent to alcoholic played moreso a dream that was reality. In other words, I was happy before. I'm miserable now.
Making a conscious effort to realize that I cannot continue to live this way and be productive in my life, but I still long for the isolation and my hypno-sedatives.
Progress. Or something like it. I can sustain extended periods of sobriety now, which is an significant improvement from a 375ml bottle nightly (on a good night, anyway) but I still miss it.
Is that my sickness?
Sunday, July 5, 2015
My ex girlfriend was consistently right, all of the time, and I never gave her the time of day on her opinion of my problems. I was the "intelligent" one, mind you, book-wise, but not mentally. Mentally, I was an idiotic fuck who ignored those who I was superior to intellectually, and at 24, I realize my ignorance hindered me from seeking out the true problem of my anger, my fucking mother.
At 22, I had it all. Car, I worked for myself, I had a beautiful woman I could claim as my own, and I was attending college. Some would claim that my life was "great", but I never felt like that. I began to abuse marijuana to achieve a severe spike in my endorphins, because it was never enough. Ever. Nothing made me completely happy. I needed marijuana to fill a void that I, for years, stated it was because of the abuse I suffered as a child, mainly through my step-father. I was able to realize that, while he played a part in my dysfunction as a child, he wasn't the root, just a fucking branch that I isolated as the problem. It wasn't until I lost nearly everything and was forced to move back down to Maryland, that I figured out it wasn't him that I harbored my anger towards. It was her.
I beat the shit out that man nearly a year ago. I put him in the hospital, I bruised him physically and mentally. I told everyone that once I released all of this anger I had contained at him, I would be "fixed". Beating the shit out of him, while it served my ego extensively, it didn't solve shit. Before I knew it, I became an alcoholic, because it started to release the "real" me. The unfiltered "I don't give a shit about your opinion and fuck you by the way" me. It made me superficially happy, only while I had the drink inside of me. It didn't last once my body purged the ethanol out of my system. It didn't occur to me that maybe she was the stress in my life that I didn't let go. That she was the root cause of everything. That she was the enabler.
I figured that out once I voluntarily checked myself into a recovery house. Initially, I even regretted, and at times fought the decision to move into here, but I can honestly say it was the best thing that has happened to me. I'm mostly sober, I no longer feel the burdens and responsibilities in my life that I unfairly had placed on me. I no longer have to worry about my money being stolen from my own mother, I do not have to be subjected to the persistent abuse from my mother that, at times, made me want to shove a knife deep into her chest and watch her suffer in pain slowly, as I had to do for years.
I'm away now. My endorphins escape, and there's not a need for the alcohol or the marijuana to force their expulsion. It's a beautiful feeling. I'm not fixed yet, but I'm starting to reach a point that I can accept my life as my life, and worry about Timothy. For years, I was worried about things that I had no real reason to worry about. I realized that my mother was dragging me down, and that's the reason she was unable to find a consistent partner in her life. I realized that, once the cancer is removed, there's the possibility of recovery.
So here I am.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
And, you, remember when we played Madden 10 times that one night and I beat you 9-1? You probably don't want to remember that one haha. College was the worst, how'd we pass?
I could gaze at you for hours, my heart latched onto you simply from your interaction, satisfying my cravings until my tolerance built up. Aye, aye? I run this. I smirked, so smile. Show the world what I fell so in love with. I'd trade 2 of my last 3 minutes just to smell your sticky sweet aroma.
You'll always be my favorite, you were the first. I asked for you, and you graced me, 10 years your senior. Then you, and you. I've been terrible as a sibling, but understand that I love all of you. To know you're all smart and have bright futures ahead...
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Thursday, May 3, 2012
My thoughts and desires confuse me. They confuse me because though they are simplistic in nature, the difficulty in obtaining such desires stress the question, is it really worth it?
Simplicity in difficulty... a hell of an oxymoron. I'm trying to figure myself out and you fill my blanks. I say why I did something and I don't have to explain my reasoning to you, because you know me.
I think the level of comfort and attachment you develop with a person ties with a compilation of both bad and good experiences, and how those experiences weigh upon each other. You had be figured out though before we even crossed the friendship plateau. You didn't see a marijuana addict with a fucked up mask, you saw me...as you would say, "Timothy".
You loved me like no other, and it made me question the love I had for the woman I was "in love" with two years ago. I was looking for love and I plastered it on the wrong female, and I never wanted more than to give you what she got, because as you deserved it, she didn't.
You like the rough me though. The man in me. As I'm in love with your innocent side, your wild nature turns me on just as much, your strengths fill the void on my flaws and my talents are at your disposal. If perfection was an actual concept, our harmony would be it.
Its dark, I lie, its dim
Our candle burning slowly
Our love personified
We rush to protect it
Keep the flame hot
Try and defeat our plot
Eglantine is Eve
Tenacity in T
The flickering flame grows broader...brighter
Don't you see Eve?
Fuck the candle
Build a fireplace with me
(Originally typed 4/27/12 -- Revised 5/3/12)
Friday, April 20, 2012
It's funny, I was asked the other day at work why I was so evil. "I wonder how you treat the people you care about!"
The one woman I have the most affection for doesn't even get me everyday. She would if I was with her, but as of now...
"Not that well," I admitted. "She knows how I feel about her," I thought, twisting my face.
Frowning somewhat, the beautiful little munchkin bursts into my mind.
I have an odd ... affection...love(?) for her. I care about her immensely, can write prose about her forever, she is as amazing as the first time we talked. She always remained amazing to me, overly important to me, I'd do anything for her, with a smirk.
For the amount of whatever I feel for her, it's funny, even I don't think she knows what it is. It's "us". An acknowledged like, a daunting situation, stress, etc, "us". I know my place, however.
"Us" always made me happy. She allows me to seep into a deep state of bliss, I smoke weed while talking to her, not out of necessity, but just to maximize the overall state of bliss she gives me. She is crack, she's dangerously addictive; there is no one dose of her, I've tried various forms of "rehab", but she's my habit & I don't want to quit her. I used to let my mind wander, get demi-jealous sometimes, but it was never anything excessive.
Something in between.
I write about her for the double effect; a woman that is flattered to be talked about + a man who enjoys simply thinking of her = ... a lot of words, a lot of chances to know I make her smile. That's more than enough payment, to me.