I usually drink so I don’t have to feel or think about anything. When you have an overactive mind with excruciating attention to detail like I do, things can become a bit too much on a daily basis. Normal things, like the noise of traffic or machinery running, the hum of the filter on my fish tank, the vibration of my phone when a notification happens, even just noticing minute differences in things that are not entirely symmetrical. I tend to overthink about things in my life like relationships and hobbies I have, projects I’ve started and never finished, friends and family members I closed myself off to because of one reason or another. I can seriously hold a grudge… even against myself.
The funny part is, I can give the greatest advice. I’m usually the one my friends come to when they need help with something or just need to talk and vent about their problems. And I’m usually very happy to oblige them. My generosity can extend pretty far, but there is no gray area; I’m either incredibly happy to do something – or I’m making up excuses as to why I’m too busy to deal with it at the time. I have no “in-between” the two feelings of wanting to be social and wanting my solitude.
My drinking, however, has very little to do – if at all – with those feelings. I’ve been this way my entire life. My addiction on the other hand? That’s a whole different story. I try to control my alcoholism the best I can. I tell myself I can’t be that bad because I still make my car payment on time, my rent on time, and other bills on time. I go to work, excel at my job, and still continue to throw myself into my hobbies and learn new crafts. But then I look at my bank account, the excessive amount of money I spend, the days I have stayed home from work because I drank until I was sick the night before, and the arguments I’ve’ had with loved ones while drunk that I can’t even remember the next day. It’s a double-edged sword, and I cut myself with it every day.
Maybe getting back to writing will help. Hell, I have piles of journals and binders full of writings from when I was younger and it was all I wanted to do. Ever since I was a child my mind has worked faster than my hands could write or type. My mind is filled with sentences and phrases and things I want to say but have no idea how to organize. It’s even worse when I drink. All I want to do is open myself up and pour all the words out on the floor like a game of pick-up-sticks so I can finally see them instead of think them.
Time will tell if this helps.