Wtf is wrong with me?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Sorry for the profanity. I guess.

No other way to kick this off.

I just burped up this acidy glob of evil. There’ll be many more globs to come before the night is spent.

My body is bloated. I feel like a sumo wrestler. I’m bursting at the seams.

I drank 12 ounces of Robitussin, and I don’t feel high. Dextromethorphan doesn’t even make me flinch anymore.

But I keep doing it anyway.

What in the flying fuck is wrong with me?

After all this time, all this striving. I’ve analyzed myself to the deepest depths, and have endlessly attempted to integrate powerful systems of recovery into my life. I have knowledge galore. My neural pathways are interwoven with the wisdom of revolutionaries.

And here I am. Stuck. Again. Just like every other time.

This is bigger than addiction. There are all kinds of maladies and labels we could throw at this thing.

Bipolar. Depression. Borderline Personality Disorder. Attention deficit disorder. So on.

The highs and lows are astounding and confounding.

It is obvious that help is needed. But from who?

Personally, more times than not, the process of getting professional help is riddled with barriers. Surmount those barriers and the help on the other side may or may not be the right fit. It takes a lot of effort and often results in supreme frustration.

This, my friends, is the path to yet more self-medication. Robitussin. Disgusting.

I’ve never been able to figure out how to consistently function and be happy. There are expanses of time where it seems like I have it figured out, but then it crumbles and I gotta start again. This is the pattern of my life. And it is scary because I am 34 and am flat broke and don’t have the societal stamina to take care of myself.

I think my time of darkness and negativity is coming to its end soon and I will be given a time of peace and prosperity. If history is any indication, I will have several months of joy and productivity, before slowly falling back into this quicksand that permeates my life’s borders.

The pendulum swings back and forth, and I have no ultimate say in it.

Sometimes I can choose to focus on mindfulness and love.

Other times, I cannot. It’s like a switch that gets stuck in one position. It should be able to move to the other position, but is rendered immobile.

When my next season of awesomeness begins (and I do feel it coming) , I will make the most of it. I shall use my energy to do amazing things. Potentially, this surge will take me to greater heights than I have ever known.

But from those heights there will be a waterfall of tears that bleed into the murky pools of the darkness to come.

If ever I should decide to get off this ride early, would you really blame me?

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