* I absolutely do not wish to trivialise alcoholism in this blog, but I do intend to explore the roots of my own negative behaviours, which happen to involve drinking.*
I’ve had a lot of difficulty with my behaviour when I drink recently.
I’m not talking a little tipple with dinner, I’m talking really drink. Mixing gin with wine and shots of tequila, drink. This kind of drinking has recently been the key to a lot of pent up anger. I’m like a Cockerel which has been caged before a fight. I could blame the drinking, think nothing of it because it’s just a personality shift triggered by the alcohol in my system. But even I don’t buy that. No, it’s something happening inside, something I’m holding in which is only unleashed when I lubricate the cage door.
On my birthday my friends and I went ‘out out’ after dinner. I had drank ALOT of alcohol. One minute I was dancing at the DJ Booth and the next I was dragging my poor friend Holly to the toilet so that she could hold my hair as I threw up some, but not all of the tequila. There was no stopping me, I wiped my face, re-applied my lippy and resurrected. I began to drink and dance to escape, I didn’t know what I was escaping I just knew that I didn’t want to confront the obvious issues which were fuelling my destructive behaviour.
I’m sweating and dancing as if I’m on a podium in Ibiza when Faye taps me on the shoulder and says: ‘We need to leave’. Well, those words were a red flag to a very drunk and now angry bull. We took it to the streets. I couldn’t feel the cold and I didnt want to listen to what anyone else was saying. I just didn’t want to stop. I dug my heels in, screamed and shouted, and forced everyone to go to another club.
Club is a generous word. It is a basement filled with middle aged men and the misfits that haven’t anywhere else to go. That’s where I wanted to be, I didn’t give a shit that everyone else in their right minds, was having an awful time. Eventually I could argue no more and I was dragged to the taxi rank, not before yapping at a girl behind me in the ATM queue. My card was being declined so I had to transfer some money and she was complaining about having to wait. I snapped my head and shouted ‘Well why don’t you fucking transfer me £20 so that we can all go home?’
I slid into the front of the taxi and began to tell the driver my qualms.
‘They just don’t want me to have fun, they just didn’t even let me dance’ I slurred as the poor man tried to focus on the road.
‘I don’t know, I think you have pretty great friends, they got you home safely and you must have danced, it’s 4 in the morning’.
‘Who’s side are you on Ramesh?! Holly, I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you this is your fault.’ Holly sat in scilence, as she had for most of my drunken fury.
‘You don’t know how hard it is, I’m just so angry because I haven’t inhaled any oxygen tonight, not even one breathe, my trousers are so tight and you wouldn’t understand how that feels’.
You get the jist, I was irrational and fuming, a version of my self which I don’t love to be around. My friends, god bless them, waited patiently for my apology and handled me like a fragile package; with nothing but care.
I won’t go into detail of all of my recent drunken escapades but similarly they are tainted with darkness. A sign that I may need to assess how I am feeling, and what it is that is being unleashed when I get on the sauce.
I have a tendency to press self destruct, I always have. Not solely through alcohol but most certainly through negative behaviour. It’s a warning from myself, to myself that I’m avoiding something. Things may be happening that I don’t want to confront, feelings resurfacing which I would rather push away. It’s hard to stop and listen when the problems you are facing are not easy to digest. I have the tools to manage anything I may be going through. I have yin and meditation, friends and support systems, I have air to breathe and food to feed my soul. I am privileged, though this privilege often makes the guilt stronger. Pathetic to have such problems when the world is so full of dispair. What do you really have to worry about?
This kind of judgement is unhelpful however, it doesn’t make problems go away and it certainly won’t stop the suffering in the world. It’s all relative. Yes my problems are insignificant in the great scheme of things but, they are still managaing to affect me negatively.
SO I shall put the gin and tonic to one side, calm the aggression and I will sit, and listen to myself. I know the answers, I’m just avoiding them through distraction and intoxication. It was all fun and games until I started calling my friends ‘skinny bitches’.
If you too are feeling like you have a niggle which you don’t feel like listening to, I would suggest that the tactic to avoid, is not healthy. No matter how big or small, there is an answer. Tune in and don’t be afraid of what you hear. Help is always a phone call away and often is not waiting for you at the bottom of a shot or in the early morning hours in a dingy basement club.
We are all so desperate to ‘feel good’ that it’s potentially this very expectation which leads to disappointment. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again IT’S OK NOT TO BE OK.
Cliché? yes! Accurate? Absolutely.
What is not ok is letting it fester, grow and manifest in petty arguments and snap decisions. My friends did not deserve to be on the recieving end of my own darkness, I’m sure they have their own to deal with.
We should just talk about everything shouldn’t we? Just get it off our chests. If you’re not a talker, then write it in a journal. Get it out in a safe space that isn’t alcohol fuelled or in haste.
I’m giving this advice to myself really, as I so clearly need it, but you can listen too if you’d like.