It’s dark in here today.
Or maybe the word I’m looking for is Sober. Turns out when I’m not pumping my body full of alcohol, it doesn’t quite know now to be happy. Interesting science behind this here.
What that translates to in my case, apparently, is a lot of darkness. Kind of a flat darkness, like my brain doesn’t know how to navigate it – unlike the usual depression I feel, which I’m now associating with alcohol use.
I’ve decided to give a name to the insidious voice in my head, telling me I can’t do this. That it’s never going to work. Or the even more dangerous “You’re not an alcoholic, really – you can just have one drink, why are you even doing this?” I’m going to call it Despair. And it looks a bit like the picture on this post. It’s the voice of self-destruction.
By giving it a name, I’m hoping to separate from it and focus my energy on defeating it. It is my enemy, seeking only to steal, kill and destroy.
Fuck that voice.
It’s made a fool out of me before, but I am determined that it won’t again.
I plan to frame a favorite picture of my family to place in my safe zone as a reminder of the reasons I’m doing this. Behind it, hidden in the darkness, I will insert this picture of Despair, as a reminder to remain vigilant.
Poem: It Comes In Every Storm, by Olga Orozco
Music: Way Down We Go, Kaleo