Self Medication

During my first six months of sobriety, I remember looking back on who I was a half-a-year prior and marveling at how far I had come. "Who was that guy?" I didn't recognize the person I had turned into while in my addiction.

So why did I drink?  It was the only thing that quieted the demons, silenced the voices, and shut off the noise.  

To be clear, there were no audible voices, nor did the family dog instruct me to kick-start a chainsaw while my family slept.  It was just... "noise."  More specifically: Emotional chaos that blared like a siren, constant and incredulous. The fear of being alone with my own thoughts scared the hell out of me and alcohol was the only thing that shut it all down.

It was a spiral of depression and self loathing. I couldn't look at my own reflection - if I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror or store window, I would look away. I was unable to face myself. Too ashamed. 

My self esteem was in the toilet. I would find myself repeating, "Guy is great... Guy is awesome... You rock.  Guy is a rockstar..." en sotto voce, over and over, to sooth myself into placation. I had to constantly reassure myself that I was not trash in order to keep moving forward.

But alcohol... Alcohol was the great emotional suppressor.  Problem was, the more I drank, the more I loathed myself, the more I loathed myself, the more depressed I became, the more depressed I became, the louder the emotional chaos. How to turn off that emotional chaos?  More alcohol.  

The process of overcoming the noise, without the aid of alcohol, was a difficult one. I knew I'd get there because I could remember a time, before I started drinking, when I lived without the noise. And as with all good things, it took a lot of time and practice to get back to level ground. Once I did, I knew I never wanted to go back to the bottom because I never wanted to have to climb out again.

My wife tells me it breaks her heart when she hears how low and desperate I had become in my disease.  

My answer: It wasn't me.