In my previous post here, I explained my absence. I've recently realized that I am an addict, and I realized that because I hit the bottom. If I hadn't; if circumstances had been different and I had been allowed to continue down that path, then I am certain that's where I would still be. I don't want to go back there anymore. I don't want to go back, but at the same time I miss it very much. It was as if I had a small corner of my life where I could run to when push came to shove and cope with the stress, the anxiety, and the rage. I don't have that anymore, and it's almost like trying to figure out how to walk again. Now that  I don't have the familiar methods of coping, I have to figure out a new way to live my life - one that doesn't involve self-destruction and dishonesty. That's a tall order for someone who has spent the past several years living a chunk of his life out of the awareness of everyone. 

I've been sober now for five weeks. Others have told me that the first 30 days can be the hardest and the most likely time for a relapse, and that if I can make it past I'll feel a lot better about myself. My addiction was not to alcohol, but there have been times when I bought the beer then poured it out, figuratively speaking. There have been other times when I could feel the love that people in my life have for me, as well as the love that I now have for myself, and I've felt I could move mountains and not break a sweat. So at best, it's been mixed - but I suppose the important thing is that I've been sober.

Being sober, and being able to speak with other addicts, as well as having time to think, has brought me to some important realizations. Probably the most important one is trying to understand the nature of my own addiction. I've been in a great deal of pain for a long time, and I've never really even realized that. I was able to largely ignore it and present a united front to the world, even though it was always there, just beneath the surface. In one of my classes before I hit bottom, I volunteered to roleplay a therapy session with the professor in front of the class. She was the therapist, and I decided to try to play the role of a PTSD client who came back from Iraq. It was just supposed to be for a few minutes, but we ended up taking most of the class period. I played the role extremely convincingly and with great intensity. At first I thought it meant I was going to be a good therapist if my convincing portrayal stemmed from a good sense of empathy. However, after I told her about what happened, she said that she thought I was in a great deal of pain but kept it secret, and that the roleplay betrayed that secret.

After that, I realized something. First off, I realized that she was right. I'm not a great actor, and I'm probably average as far as empathy goes - the reason I was able to do what I did so effortlessly was because I was mired in suffering that I never really even acknowledged; because to do so would be to acknowledge my addiction. Second, that suffering was one of the things that both fed my addiction and perpetuated it. Perhaps the most important thing I realized following what she told me is that I am Dr. Jekyll as well as Mr. Hyde.

 I was walking back to my car after classes one day, and I felt that I'd always had a sense that part of me was missing - a "hole in my soul" so to speak. I always thought that I could fill it with the things that were killing me. But I've come to understand that there was never a part of me that was missing - only hidden. The part of me that was hidden was...well, it was me. But not really me, some version of myself that I didn't recognize. It was me, but this person was alone, scared, in pain, angry, and had no idea how to cope with life. He was, or is, my addict. My Mr. Hyde. He is both my worst enemy and my closest friend - as he is truly a part of me.

That might all sound kind off like I've gone off the deep end, but it's really the only way I can think to describe it. It's almost as if I became someone else when I was caught up with my addiction. Someone who is pretty much the mirror image of the person I believed that I was. So now I don't know what the appropriate stance is to take towards that person. Should I be angry? Should I start throwing punches at him and curse and spit? Some addicts do. They curse the addict inside every day. Should I accept that the addict is and always will be there, but that I must try my best at repair and reconcilliation? In short, do I want to unconditionally love myself in spite of my flaws or do I want to try and kill that part of myself? I wish I could explain how conflicted I feel on that point.

Anyway, I've blathered on long enough. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. 

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