Brian Young5 said:Look, I didn't mean to sound snobby.
But regarding the whole "no alcohol" thing, it’s not nothing to me. Sometimes I get hit with this wave of gloom thinking I might have to be on meds forever and never taste a single drop of that divine nectar again (there it is—that part of me that still romanticizes and glamorizes booze as an escape from painful emotions, anxiety, and loneliness). And then there's my favorite disinhibitor—since I'm naturally shy and introverted and struggle to open up, alcohol used to pave the way for smoother socializing. When I'm alone, I don't even think about getting buzzed, but being around people feels like they're poking at the little devil inside me and triggering that nostalgia for the times I loved that intoxicating rush of blood in my veins, that delicious dizziness, and that slight, euphoric floating sensation where everyone seems likable and everything feels right while under the Dionysian influence. I know drinking is strictly off-limits for me and I have strong willpower, so maybe the problem really is just the people I run into. Regarding this guy who acts sixteen: he was born in '76 (!), but he definitely shows signs that he hasn't quite grown up yet.
There's also this gap between the "pharmaceutical consumers" and the casual drinkers: people who drink are in this blissful state—euphoric, talkative, emotional, and high-spirited—whereas my meds just level everything out and distance me from my own emotions. It makes it hard to establish real, deep, intimate contact with another person or to be hilariously witty or extraordinary. It takes a long time for people to actually reach me. With my specific chemistry, all I can really do is pretend to be having a blast. Sure, sometimes I feel almost hypnotized by the energy around me and the excitement rubs off, so even sober I'll dance, laugh, and crack jokes—especially in good company—but often the difference between the beer drinker and the Valium user is painfully palpable. And that's where the real issue lies.
Clearly, I still need to work on not giving a damn about people trying to tempt me into sin.
Oh, and thanks for that supportive post. 🙂
I have to admit, you described that rift between desire—or need—and the actual reality of things quite well. And like I mentioned in my first reply, I think I can relate to you. I can’t, or rather, I shouldn't drink because I spiral into alcoholism; you shouldn't drink because of that specific cocktail of medications you're on. I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy those moments of being buzzed or drunk, either. During this latest relapse, which dragged on for eight months—not that I was drinking every single day, but more like falling into these deep, dopamine-driven binges—the social component, that pressure to fit in, was what messed with me the most. Now that I've actually gotten back on track, that pressure bothers me less. It's not gone, just... less. So, yeah, I know none of this is simple. For context, I was talking to a buddy of mine a few days ago who’s an ex-heroin addict, and we touched on that kind of stuff. He told me he wouldn't trade places with me—meaning, regarding the type of addiction. There's some truth to that. Social pressure has objective triggers, but the reaction to it is entirely subjective. That's where the work happens.
Getting back to your story. You might feel this sense of despondency forever as long as you believe it stems solely from the inability to drink. Most of that gloom will lift once you address your shyness, your introversion, and the fact that you find it hard to open up. You can tackle it by becoming less inhibited and more open, or simply by changing how you perceive those traits. Honestly, if you stay shy and introverted for the rest of your life, there’s nothing wrong with that. I know plenty of people like that, and they're great. But if it eats at you, then work on it. Work on your socialization too—develop strategies to make interacting easier. It's the same prescription. As long as you view intoxication as the only solution, and knowing you can't afford it, that feeling of emptiness is guaranteed. As for that Dionysian rush? There's no magic formula for that. I wish I were a bullfighter. But hey, I'm not. Or, to put it in this context—I could sing odes to the sensation I used to feel when I'd hit that dopamine spike (I used heroin periodically, though despite the myths, I never felt "hooked" in the traditional sense). But I don't feel like getting specific about that right now. How do you recreate that feeling? Falling in love. Sex. Intense physical exertion with a purpose. Success. The human brain is incredible if you give it a reason to perform.
Regarding the second part of what you wrote about pharmacology, I don't think I'm qualified to give anyone 100% solid advice anymore. It’s been a lifetime since I was on pills, so the details are fuzzy. I truly don't know how much of a barrier they act as in forming emotional connections. There are people on this thread far smarter than I am who can speak to that. But one thing: it’s an illusion to expect alcohol to provide genuine, intimate, deep connection with another human being. Those illusions are all over Bukowski's work and they take root during puberty. I've had plenty of relationships, but the three that were truly real, intimate, and deep happened when I was "normal." Sober and clean. Everything else was either tragic or comedic, but it wasn't real and it wasn't deep. To end on a slightly pathetic note—love is the strongest drug you'll ever take, the one you're glad to be addicted to, and the hangover you face while drinking coffee in the morning has the best taste. Something like that.
Alright then. Wishing 🙂
all the best.
PS. Ugh. My apologies to the mods if I drifted too far off-topic or went on for way too long.
