Week 75 – Sabotage

What causes the most problems in Greek mythology

Ok, I’m going to be flat out honest here, I very nearly didn’t write this latest entry. With recent events and as anonymously I think I write this diary, I had to seriously think about how I was going to write this. Do I put something out in the public domain for all time for something I did to be judged, or do I write something bullshitty and tripe and maybe talk about sunshine and lollypops?

OK, look, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve come to realise I might not necessarily be in as good a place as I thought, and I think I have a serious problem. I don’t think this is a depression and anxiety problem (although that does come into play) but I think it’s a problem that may be worth discussing.

I have written about alcohol being an issue for me. Like for many sufferers of depression, the hangovers from booze can have severely negative consequences bringing some of the lowest lows you can ever experience in life. Regardless of knowing this and regularly experiencing this whilst drinking I still continue to drink. At points I’ve considered quitting, at other points I’ve tried to at the very least lower my intake, but lo and behold I still end up binge drinking at least once every few weeks. I just don’t seem to understand how to be in a social environment and be sober.

Drink away all of the depression

This is nothing new. I’ve known for the longest time that I struggle at social events without a drink in hand; almost think of me like Raj from The Big Bang Theory… Except I can talk to girls sober, just not necessarily that well.

So I’ve been out twice in the last 2 weeks. On both occasions I got exceptionally drunk, wound up in a weird situation, ended up back at someone’s home, compromising my morals, and returning home with the sun high in the sky. The first night I found myself experimenting with one of many substances I swore I would never do (I really don’t want to go into specifics on this) and the second night I wound up spending the night with a married woman. No, she wasn’t an older woman. No, I don’t mean we stayed up all night talking.

I'm so sorry, Doctor. It's a fixed point in time.
I’m so sorry, Doctor. It’s a fixed point in time.

Usually when I drink it lowers my inhibitions enough that I still have some self control over certain situations: I’ve never begun a fist fight whilst drunk, I’ve never been a sex pest in a bar – I’ve always been able to retain the morals I keep in high regard.

But this, I just don’t even know where to begin. This is like I was some other person on both these nights, with an over inflated ego and confidence you’d only see in a cowboy movie. Just… Who was this person, and how the hell did this happen?!

Seriously. I’m just speechless with myself. My hangover the last few days has replayed all these events over and over to the point where I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself as much as I do right now. I’m not pissed for having a one night stand; I’m pissed at myself for sleeping with a married woman for Christsake! And drugs?! What the fuck?! I don’t need something that’s going to fuck with my mind when my mind is already fucked!!!

I’m just so angry with myself. I’m also entirely angry that for moments on both those nights I actually felt proud of myself. Who the fuck is proud of doing these sorts of things?! An arsehole, that’s who! GRRRRR!!!!

If I believed in heaven and hell I’d know for sure now that I’d be going there. I honestly used to believe I was a good person. Now I know I’m the worst.

Normally being hungover means copious amounts of undeserved self loathing. This time it is all well earned. I’m not looking for pity, I’m not writing a suicide note, I’m just saying this because I always said that here, on this little WordPress blog I’d always be honest.

So if I’ve let anyone down this time, I’m sorry. I’ll try and make things up to you for the rest of my long ass natural life – because we all know that only the good die young.

Peering over the curtain


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