The other night, as I lay crying myself to sleep wrapped in the loneliness and pain that always seems to cling to me, I asked myself why. Why do I always end up in this miserable, empty place? Why, with some solid sobriety, am I still crying myself to sleep feeling like the only person in the world that feels this pain? Why do I victimize myself? Why do I create situations that make me so miserably unhappy? Why do I do things I know will cause feelings of shame, guilt, remorse, and worthlessness? Why do I make myself so unhappy?
It’s because I think I can control it.
I can create situations that make me unhappy because I’ve had YEARS of practice, and I’m good at it.
I can talk myself into feeling all sorts of negative shit because I’ve done it for so long that it has become my nature.
I’m afraid of the truth.
The truth is that I am still at the mercy of an ego that tells me I am shit, even though I somehow have the ability to convince others that I’m not. I am still at the mercy of a mind that wants to kill me, humiliate me, and push me to that drink because that was my solution for so long. But am I really at the mercy of all of this? I supposed that’s the easy way of saying I’m comfortable with a sick mind, and that I’m beyond miserable, but it’s familiar.
I am in control.
I am in a hell of my own making and a drink is not the problem. Day after day, I chase misery like I chased that drink and even though I abhor the end result, I get to be in control. In pain is where I am comfortable because I know pain. I don’t know how to be happy. I don’t deserve to be happy. Or maybe I do, but I’m terrified.
Pain, misery, discontent, struggle, and chaos have been my companions most of my life. I know them all intimately and can keep them effortlessly. Happiness, on the other hand, is a stranger to me.
Happiness isn’t something I can control. That’s never been my experience.
I am sober, yet I still wage a war with myself every second of every day because I want to be in control. To be powerless…to admit I am powerless…scares me more than anything, and I can’t figure out why. Being the over-analyzer that I am, this is really tough for me. I know what’s wrong with me, and even how to fix those things. However, if I am unwilling to take action, too scared to let go of the familiar, what that does self-knowledge get me?
I live in “whys,” and I’m sick of it. I live in a place where I KNOW what I need to do, I know what’s messed up about me, and because I want control I’d rather stay miserable because that comes easy, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of hating who I am.
The truth is, I’m tired. Bone deep, soul-weary tired.
I’m in a constant battle with all that drinking taught me, sober, and I’m barely surviving because having control means that I don’t have to be powerless.
I can’t cry anymore. I can’t ask why anymore. I can’t feel my soul bleed anymore. I can’t face another day of trying to control the uncontrollable. I can’t manipulate another defeat anymore, just to confront it and start all over again. I can’t close my eyes to the miserable woman I see slowly dying inside day after day in the mirror. I can’t take one more minute of a mind that tells me that to control is the only way to live. I don’t want to just survive sobriety. I don’t want to be here anymore, so I’m asking you…where do I go from here?
This post was submitted by Nena B.