Raised by Alcoholic Wolves: This Will Destroy You

Metaphorically speaking. . . this "ism" has constantly existed, veiled dormant just below the surface of it all. Something ancient as time itself, surviving the eons, weathering the cataclysms, whilst spanning every generation of man ever conceived.

I have an undeniable itch buried within the internals of my psyche. It's a sensation I've felt for as long as I can recall.... the inclination to do something, anything to get outside of self. Fittingly, as a young child I could always be found outside. Growing up the first 5 years of my life at the end of a winding dirt road on 20 acres in rural West Virginia. It was an adventuresome boys dream-scape, & I explored it from dawn till dusk.
I ran. I searched. I chased. I escaped. From what, I genuinely had no idea. I knew when it was present, the only way I could figure out how to suppress the feeling was to not be.

Always searching.. under rocks, logs, debris & streams.

Some say there are a million ways to die... choose one. I'd say there are just as many ways to be addicted, to escape, to check out of reality. Many are illegal, considered immoral, unhealthy, unsafe, mind altering, or taboo. Some are part of everyday mainstream society, accepted & even condoned. Chances are, that if you partake in any process or substance addiction over time it will alter your brains chemistry, from caffeine to Heroin, sugar to porn, from chasing love to cutting yourself open (same damn thing~one scars your insides, while one scars your outsides )

While the main focus in my recovery has been refraining from drugs & alcohol, those are not even my real inner-most problems, as they were once my solution to make my life somewhat manageable. I have come to find through my research that I am in fact allergic to drugs n' alcohol & if used I break out in handcuffs. I become a frequent visitor of jails, hospitals, & institutions. Every time without exception.

Fall down nine times get back up ten.

Life usually goes well for me in a short amount of time when I refrain from using a substance or taking a drink. Though if I am true to myself & this entire process, my addiction can & does manifest itself in many various forms. These ways may be the lesser of many evils, & will most likely never land me behind bars, or strapped to a hospital gurney. However, I still feel like it's a trade off of one thing for another .. keeping me a prisoner behind these self-soothing walls, as a way of avoiding the discomfort of just being me, of the sensations I don't want to sit in & feel.

Are you escaping to your addiction or addicted to your escape?

I am here to call myself out on my shit. In the past 11 months of sobriety I have used the following to self-sooth &
to scratch the itch..

Experienced Over-eating / heaviest weight of my life
checking out on social media for escape
posting on social media for validation
partaking in a (healthy) dating relationship
workaholic / fixaholic tendencies with my business
falling madly in love / in crazy
energy drinks / more caffeine than reasonable for human consumption
sugar... (see above over-eating)
riding my dirt bike excessively / with intention of escape
losing the weight I previously gained (yo-yo dieting?)
writing this recovery blog... journaling, writing these goddamn feelings out.
Getting more & more bad ass tattoos

How else can you escape into addictions? Here are some popular ones along with the obscure.

Shopping, gambling, strip clubs, chocolate, coffee, compulsive working out, over exercising, cycling, extreme sports, tanning, cosmetic surgeries, chewing ice, pulling your own hair out, world of warcraft, online dating, video games, prostitutes, piercings, eating dirt, sex, masturbation, alcohol, religion, sniffing aerosol, adrenaline, stealing, fetishes, applause, drama, crime, people pleasing, risky behaviors, sexting, travel, voyeurism, women, the occult, love, joking about serious matters, isolation, hoarding, endorphins, attention, sleep,

Here is what I have came to realize. I am & have always been the common denominator of this "ism" that I try to run from day in & day out... but why? You're supposed to love yourself. I'm suppose to love myself. Everybody should know that. I DO know that.. it hasn't been as rudimentary as it should seem for me to connect the dots.

Don't get me wrong, I think I'm a pretty swell guy most of the time. I think I'm one radical dude, good looking, charming, sense of humor, & gosh darn it, people like me.

I even like myself... a lot. If I were someone else, I could see falling for me as a semi-rational choice.
Since I've been working an honest program, I must confess that I am my biggest critic, I am very hard on myself, & find it somewhat hard to forgive my own mistakes, my own defects of character.

It seems that when someone else loves me I tend to feed off of that, becoming me the best version of myself. But I've got it all backwards, if I feel external love, it validates reasons to have internal self love. If that external source goes away, fades, or proves inadequate... well, then my self worth begins rapidly to spiral downward. I take it all very personally that there IS something broken about me.

Now that this unbecoming plight of self has been exposed for what it is, I can begin to rebuild. To make progress.

I will do the internal work sufficient to obtain my emotional sobriety, the best version of self that I no longer desire to run from.

Upon meditating and praying to a greater power of my own understanding, I summoned "What am I supposed to learn from my recent struggles? ..."

An immediate and resounding response boomed back of "SELF" I take this omen as guidance to do the work of recovery on myself / for myself. Take care of myself, physically, mentally, spiritually.. Being the best version of myself in each present day. Eventually this will lead me to love myself completely. I need to get the fuck out of my own way & allow everything the ability to fall into place as it should.

Will getting a tattoo reminding me to have love in my heart for myself actually make any fucking difference? Who knows.. but all the drugs, alcohol, women, or other various forms of escapism weren't a permanent solution.