Stage-Five Clinger: Alone for Over a Year

Struggling with polysubstance abuse and self-medication issues for over a decade has burned a lot of time and relationships for me. As tired and lethargic as I feel anymore, I don’t know how I must have propelled myself through my twenties, landing a steady, non-stop string of boyfriends that always managed to initially see me sober (or under the more clandestine cloak of pills), and sadly, assume the steady role of codependents or casualties of the influence my addictions have had. It was usually always the latter, and we’d secure our commitment in our simultaneous dependencies. You become comrades in your commencement and dedication to maintain this. Together, you mourn the loss of your financial security, your friends, and any plans for a serious future. Such casualties are MUCH easier to stomach when you have someone reeling at these losses by your side. In my case, the guys usually end up faring better, for metabolic reasons or better self restraint, and until the bitter end, my more severe self-destruction consistently has resulted in heart-wrenching abandonment. Until the past year. The tears and pleas to come back froze. I have no explanation for my last loss and lack of immediate emotion. Maybe the rattling, life-threatening throes of fatal withdrawal consumed me. It’s hard to process anything emotive when your BAC is .69 and recuperation warrants you unable to communicate; absent your desperate pleas for intravenous Ativan. Anyhow, back to the absence of tears. They eventually come, in sporadic episodes of a massive mix consistent of all-consuming sadness, recollection, remorse, resentment, doubt, and finally, resignation that isn’t final; it keeps wreaking temporary moments of havoc on your emotions.

I’ve drawn enough negative attention upon myself to almost justify my reclusive retreat from society. I’m terrified of Facebook and, for reasons I’ll probably elaborate upon later, am currently on disability and love/loathe my solitude. Despite my cynical sebattical, I don’t want to stop existing and doing what I love: writing. Silencing my inner-critic and perpetual self-consciousness, I’m trying to contribute and channel these experiences in a different way than I’m used to.

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