WARNING! The following post is not funny, or witty or smart. Trying to regroup my thoughts and you are all going to suffer! Do not feel compelled to reply, I understand! There will probably be many posts over the next few days, turn away now and it will all be over soon!
These are just my thoughts on the matter, stupid and incoherent, and they are no substitute for seeking professional help...
OK, on with the show...
Daddy was a drunk, a raging, sloppy mean alcoholic about 4 times a week. Mommy was Italian, making food and shoving it down my throat as a sign of love. Now I am not in anyway saying that being alcoholic is a nationality or that being Italian is a dysfunction, I am simply depicting an aspect of my youth. I also don't blame my parents for my problems, they may have started the shit, but I own it now.
Addictive qualities seem to be transferred from generation to generation. My Grandmother, on my Fathers side, was also an alcoholic. My Father of course, and 6 of his seven brothers, one of which was high when he was killed in a car accident, my favorite uncle of the bunch.
Of course I had my own troubles with alcohol and drugs, and set adrift in the vastness of college life, unaccountable to anyone, I did some serious damage, to others as well as myself (see post "history lessons suck" 4/13 for more insight). After all that I was lucky I did not develop into an alcoholic, I guess some where along the line I blamed my body image and food for all my troubles and just stuck with that. There are some similarities between the two but there are some vast differences as well. My father (15 years sober now), knows that he can NEVER touch another drink, doing so turns him into a vicious animal, he could hurt himself or anyone around him. I can't give up food, I have to cook it for others, I have to eat it to survive, the best I can do is make a few better choices. If I go on a binge, I disgust myself, maybe others, but no one else gets physically hurt and I can still operate heavy machinery. Here are some ways I think we are very similar...
Addicts do not really like, or enjoy the long haul. We look for release, constantly. Maybe that comes from a shitty childhood, maybe it comes from hating your life or not having the tools to deal with the things in your life. Maybe its because we never had the patience to develop a decent hobby like stamp collecting or knitting. But for whatever reason, we want out. We want to say "aw, just fuck it", as if we have some kind of right, or that it is somehow more courageous to hide.
Addicts like me are seeking something, always. Answers to the inside and outside of life, looking for the thing to fill the void left there by the negligence of our parents or our Gods. If we were Type A personalities or had the patience, we might be scientists, novelists, winning Nobel Peace Prizes, solving world problems, but most of us are not very organized or good at goal setting. Very often we get tired of that searching and seek instant gratification instead. Booze, drugs, sex, food. Hell, lets face it, even television sometimes does the trick nicely. We see it, we drink it, we taste it or we bang it. All natural things that everybody does, only for addicts, we are users only, just taking it to satisfy, to fill our own holes, nobody else.
Addicts always, always, always, effect others around them, this is after all a contact sport. Growing up with a drunken father is obvious enough but what about me and what I am doing? My son sees a parent unable to find balance, self control. A parent wandering through life by the grace of God and the pity of others, a parent not living up to the potential of the life given, procrastinating days away like rain drops in a stagnant sea. I am a walking living example that goals can not be met, a constant bitter reminder of failure. NOT self pity here, just cold hard facts.
Addicts are at a loss from the beginning, we are missing something we should have gotten, something we need to survive. Inevitably we find something, but it is not what we need, only what will kill the need, the hunger, only what will drown it, stuff it, numb it. There are programs to join, professionals to pay, friends for support, there is courage and willpower but in the end, they can never be that "thing" that has gone missing, they can only help avoid the search.
At the end of all things, I believe, addicts need something to hold onto, something to infuse into their bones and blood, something that gives them hope and life and the promise of something better for both. Something that does not try to fill the wound, packing it with perishable things, but something that heals it, drawing it to a close.
I need to find that something...
It means a lot to me guys, really, thank you for your comments. Do not think they were made in vain, I will take them all to heart.
Margaret, I am sorry to hear about your brother. I can only imagine how difficult and painful that must have been for you. Thank you for sharing something so very personal.
Posted by: FB | May 17, 2005 at 23:34
What a very powerful post. My brother killed himself at age 24 because he couldn't get past his alcoholism and just got fed up with even trying. You hit all the proverbial nails on the head here.
Posted by: Margaret | May 17, 2005 at 20:32
One of the best things I've ever read on addiction. Absolutely NAILS how I feel about mine.
Posted by: Faith | May 17, 2005 at 17:58
For this comment, I am not "Bunny". I am Chris, a very concerned friend. You have just laid out some sad, but true facts about your life growing up. You are obviously very aware of the effects it has had on your conscience...on your self-confidence. I admire the fact that you are able to admit and identify the weaknesses. You say that "something" needs to fill the space of longing, where the food currently resides. But the truth is that the only one, the only thing, that can fill that space is you and how you see yourself. How you view yourself and how you feel about YOU. The food has become a safety blanket to block out the bad feelings. You need deal with those feelings first to jump the food hurdle. FB - get a therapist. Truly. I have one and it is making a difference in my life. Making me see things - my life - in a way I never even considered. I FEEL better about myself and it is changing the way I see things - the way I see myself.
Posted by: Chris | May 17, 2005 at 13:30