|Posted on 23 August, 2016 at 22:00|
I started to realize there was something really wrong when I spent my 23rd birthday in the hospital getting my head stitched up after smashing a pint glass on my head at a bar the night before....that's right. I smashed a pint glass on my own head. I spent the sunday on my own driving around looking for someone to stitch me up before I had to front up home for birthday celebrations and explain to my parents what made me do such a thing. It would come as little surprise to them though. My intense self destruction had become so common that they couldn't have been more worried about their unstable and highly self loathing and destructive son who would leave for days at a time and come home after benders of booze, drugs, very little food and some kind of injury or wound. Then disappear into his room for 3 days struggling to limp through life from day to day.
In a 1 month period I managed to break my foot (kicking a metal pole as hard as humanly and drunkenly possible), split my own head open (the aforementioned pint glass), get my cheekbone cracked from a brawl (after snorting a gram of Speed in a bathroom I walked out to some dude's fist in my face for something I apparently did) and bust my AC joint and not be able to lift my arm for a month (betting my mate I couldn't leap over a 6ft high fence), all while being completely off the planet under the influence.This shit still continued for some time until I met the most beautiful, loving, caring and kind girl on the planet who is now my wife. Yet it still continued even after we met, just a little more toned down.
So those monday morning reflective periods of time after a weekend were a great source of 'What the fuck even is this life!?' For a long time during these periods of wanting so badly out of the vessel that was my life, I was engaging in a process I now know as Creative Visualization. I had no idea that it was a thing, but I used it to make my present reality more bearable.
I dived headfirst into alcohol to numb the pain I'd succumbed to on many levels years before, even though I technically shouldn't have been due to the Roaccutane medication I was finally taking for my acne, and the glandular fever which knocked me down for about half a year. My liver had already taken a battering as it was so alcohol would certainly contribute to the damage already caused. But my 'Why' was stronger so of course it didn't stop me.....
I'd caught up with some old mates I hadn't seen since high school and then began to jam with them so of course, after not having a social life for a long time due to isolation, I jumped at it as best I knew how. The problem was I was a wreck and it would always show more heavily when I was drinking....the first time I saw a mental health professional I was there to get medication basically, and I did. I drove to my appointment in my mate’s car still drunk from an insanely hectic night the night before seeing on of my favourite bands at the Palace (Lamb of God). Sacrament tour it was so it must have been 2006 (only 10 years ago, wow). This amazingly astute professional (I’m being sarcastic) had no real idea of the mess sitting in front of him. Probably because his eyes were closed most of the time. Here was this mess of a person sitting in front of him still slurring his words, reeking of booze and vomit which I had unleashed in the cab that morning. My mate had kindly cleaned it up with the cab driver as I was in no state for interaction by that stage. I then went to sleep in the back of my mate’s car for a few hours before he was due to go to work. I awoke at his work a few hours later, took a leak outside his work while his bosses watched on, asked to borrow the keys and took off hoping I didn’t get pulled over as I was still pretty much smashed. So when I arrived I assumed some sort of deeper intervention than the surface level work I got. But I got my meds so I was happy. I was on those for roughly 8 years and have now been off for 3 years. They were beneficial to a point, and I now say they were a help for transitioning from where I was to the point where I had done enough work to not rely on them for my states of being. That required 8 years or rigorous self-work, devouring as much content as I could and entering states of reflecting often as I could aswell as some modalities which have been hugely beneficial (kinesiology being one which I'm now trained as a practitioner in the emotional realms).
That is one of many stories which obviously I use for contrast, but there are so many more that I forget them, until I’m with some mates who were around for that period of time and they remind me. It's stuff I don’t always care to remember a whole lot of anyway, as it was a different time and not always so fun, but also I was rarely sober so the memory is foggy on most of them anyway. Something which resonated with me at one point in time was when I realized just how bad you must be, when you have people who are also like I was, self-destructive and crazy loose units, telling you and your friends and family ‘I worry for this one’ then you know you must be bad. I now understand that as I’ve seen people like me many times over the years, and I worry for them and hope they can come through safe and well. I barely got out of it alive and was blessed to make it through instances where my self-destruction almost did cause me to no longer exist. I used to fantasize about ending my life so often that it would take so much of my thought space there was little room for much else. But I also knew it had to be better than this. I would hope I could just drink myself dead and certainly tried. I did make attempts to end it a few times in various ways, and I still wear the scars from the self harming element which I would go down when I was in a really bad state....how did I get through this period? Divine intervention? Sheer will? The need to be here to type this blog and be doing the work I am doing now? There were a few factors certainly, and I am fucking grateful for every day on this beautiful planet and rarely go a day without affirming that.
So a couple of things in the next few years that followed this period completely changed the trajectory of my life. You almost have an intuitve sense that these pivotal moments will shape your life at the time it occurs, but you aren't able to imagine just how much. First though, I had to survive long enough for them to occur....