Seeking joy and meaning in a joyless mind and meaningless existence

Sunday, May 18, 2014

When You Follow Your Dreams

You take one step after the other
At times you may not know
Which way to go
You open one door just to find another
{Missing Persons, "The Closer That You Get"}

I felt as if I might implode today.  Job stress.  Family stress.  Interpersonal stress.  All backlit by my seemingly perpetual alcohol withdrawal.  I went into work to try and organize my desk, but I didn't get very much done before I had to leave.  I drove home—screaming in my head—and then walked over to the gym before it closed.  Half an hour on the elliptical gave me a perspective on things: I'm going to get myself ready for the week, go to bed early and focus on my job in the days to come.  Everything else I'm obsessing about can wait until later.

So Much to Give
I want to quote Carol's line in the middle panel to everyone I know.

My hypnotherapist in Los Angeles gave me a copy of The Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain of Growing Up Gay in a Straight Man's World by Alan Downs, which I haven't actually read it yet.  But like any member of a marginalized group, I don't have to look far to become angry and frustrated with the status quo.  However, I think my anger issues also have a more personal dimension.  I had a lot of na├»ve expectations for life that didn't bear out, and most cynics are idealists who found the world to be apathetic, at best, and brutish, at worst.  I appreciate that I only have "first world problems," but the struggles of the wider world don't make my personal struggles any less difficult.

Such a Good Boy

Day three of not drinking.

Opiates are actually my drug of choice, and the person living with me has Vicodin from some recent oral surgery.  I'm surprised at how little temptation I have to steal them, seeing as how that was my modus operandi for two and a half decades.  Maybe I've actually learned a lesson and remember how truly horrible opiate withdrawal is for me, so much that it might even necessitate a short leave of absence from work, opening up an infinite can of worms for me there.  Similarly, the other day I was over at a new person's house, the friend of a friend, and I made the conscious decision not to ask to use the restroom and then snoop for any narcotics that they might have.  Maybe I just don't want to be that person anymore.  I certainly wouldn't miss that aspect of myself.

And awhile ago, I resisted looking for pain pills I think my parents might have while over at their house doing laundry while they were out of town.  I definitely don't want to betray my parents' trust ever again, especially at their sort of age, and don't want them to question whether they should allow me a key to their home or to have distrust embedded in the foundation of our relationship.