A Letter to Self, page 1

Thank you all for your kind and encouraging words, it really means allot to me. I have come along way but I still have struggles and thoughts of using or drinking on a daily basis. Depression and anxiety are my biggest triggers as well as depersonalization and disassociation disorder.

I wrote this a few years ago while in active addiction. I post only to give a idea of what being an addict or alcoholic is like. After a back injury and some unforeseen life events I fell into addiction by abusing my pain meds and drinking in an effort to numb the pain. Once you get caught up, the choice to stop is no longer easy.

I often wonder how much easier it would be to get off of opiates if I did not suffer from reoccurring anxiety and depression. It is quite a dilemma in which I cannot seem to overcome and I am starting to think that perhaps? I never will.

There are days that I do not feel the heart crushing sorrow and ache that depression brings. The void is filled with joy and I even have the delusion during these days that maybe I am like everyone else. I even feel optimistic about my chances of “getting clean” . It actually seems so easy and I go about making plans in my head to accomplish this apparently easy goal.

After a long “happy” day of optimistic planning and I am fatigued with the days events, I lay my head down on my pillow. I soon fade into lucidity with warm thoughts of freedom flashing through my scattered thoughts.

At 3:30 a.m., my alarm grabs me by the hair and pulls me out of my sweet dreams kicking and screaming as I open my sleepy eyes to a new day. But I immediately sense that something is terribly wrong. Something is missing in the pit of my stomach or perhaps my soul. The joy of life, the optimism of sobriety, the will to get out of bed…to breath? All of these idea’s and impulses were snatched away as I was busy in my sleep playing Crisco Twister with the “Three Jessica’s,” Biel, Alba and Simpson. It’s as if as I slept, a dark ominous shadow slipped into my room and poured a large ice cold bucket of “the Nothingness” down my throat and I drank every bitter drop. All my previous recovery plans that where on fire in my soul and consciousness have been snuffed out , gone. Not even a scent or ash to be found.

The Nothingness that I speak of, and which you may be familiar with as well, turns hope into hate, love into lies, peace of mind, into pessimism. The bright confident eyes that I recognized in the mirror have oddly enough been replaced as well. I know this because the ones I wore before could see the beauty of the world with magnificent colors exploding of off God’s creation. I could also see the happiness in peoples eyes as they went about their daily business. But more importantly, I could see me in the future living a clean and abundant life being the best husband and father that a man could be. The eyes that the Nothingness apparently lends me on frequent occasion , have a very different and dark perception. The sun that usually brings warmth and comfort is now blinding and somewhat irritating. And it is also apparent that it prefers the darkness, so the darkness is where I reside while in this sickening mode. I no longer see the beauty of creation but the burden of living on this abysmal and painfully immoral rock in which we call earth. I no longer see the happiness in the peoples eyes but discouragement of mundane living, the shattered dreams etching deep wrinkles on their unsatisfied and unfulfilled faces. The day drags on painfully slow and I can only think of relief of any kind and any way. And so…I do.

I often wonder how much easier it would be to get off of opiates if I did not suffer from reoccurring anxiety and depression. It is quite a dilemma in which I cannot seem to overcome, and I am starting to think that perhaps? I never will