Rock bottom. Mine's different from yours, we're all different people. Yours might be a one hour breakdown, a heroin addiction, snapping and yelling at a loved one, who knows? A week of alcholism, spending Christmas Day, the weekend before, and the entire week afterwards completely drunk, sending heartfelt offensive letters to those closest, tearing apart five friendships in the course of a week, well... Maybe that's my version of rock bottom.
So after all that, how does one reclaim themselves? It's difficult. There was a time where I could never understand how someone could get so wrapped up in it that they'd lose themselves and begin to fade away, but one day I found it happening to me. How did I reclaim myself, I'm not sure. It's so tempting, so easy, to just wash away all the pain, to lose yourself in that lovely bottle of rum, whiskey, whatever's around, and I did. Every single day I'd reach for that bottle and in an hour and nine shots later be in a blissful land of non-existance.
The cutoff point. When one of your best friends is smashed, spilling his heart out, smoking a cigar he's unknowingly been chewing to bits, sitting around an electric heater in a half built garage in hardin county, you take a step back and it hits you. That's what I've become. He told me a story about how he's fucked up the best relationship in his life, and how he's trying his hardest not to ruin it worse, how he's trying not to let it eat him alive, the sorrow spills out of his mouth like bile and it lands all over me, his pain and sorrow and drunkeness is a mirror at myself, and that liquor instantly loses it's appeal.
You're cut off. When she's there sitting in your chair drunk and pissed off, emotional and confused and you realize part of what she's feeling is from that cup in her hand, and not all of it is from her heart. When she's begging you to do something that you want to do so badly but you realize that it's the liquor talking and not her, and suddenly every bit of drunkeness leaves your body and somehow, somehow your weak and instantly sober self manages to have the will to say no, that's when you realize that you don't need this, that what you really need is to cut yourself off from that bottle.
My problems aren't the biggest. My rock bottom isn't the lowest. But these are my problems, and that was my rock bottom, and this is my story.
It's time I pick up the pen and stop letting other people write it for me.
So after all that, how does one reclaim themselves? It's difficult. There was a time where I could never understand how someone could get so wrapped up in it that they'd lose themselves and begin to fade away, but one day I found it happening to me. How did I reclaim myself, I'm not sure. It's so tempting, so easy, to just wash away all the pain, to lose yourself in that lovely bottle of rum, whiskey, whatever's around, and I did. Every single day I'd reach for that bottle and in an hour and nine shots later be in a blissful land of non-existance.
The cutoff point. When one of your best friends is smashed, spilling his heart out, smoking a cigar he's unknowingly been chewing to bits, sitting around an electric heater in a half built garage in hardin county, you take a step back and it hits you. That's what I've become. He told me a story about how he's fucked up the best relationship in his life, and how he's trying his hardest not to ruin it worse, how he's trying not to let it eat him alive, the sorrow spills out of his mouth like bile and it lands all over me, his pain and sorrow and drunkeness is a mirror at myself, and that liquor instantly loses it's appeal.
You're cut off. When she's there sitting in your chair drunk and pissed off, emotional and confused and you realize part of what she's feeling is from that cup in her hand, and not all of it is from her heart. When she's begging you to do something that you want to do so badly but you realize that it's the liquor talking and not her, and suddenly every bit of drunkeness leaves your body and somehow, somehow your weak and instantly sober self manages to have the will to say no, that's when you realize that you don't need this, that what you really need is to cut yourself off from that bottle.
My problems aren't the biggest. My rock bottom isn't the lowest. But these are my problems, and that was my rock bottom, and this is my story.
It's time I pick up the pen and stop letting other people write it for me.