C l e a n

Not drinking.
Edge // Monday, Oct. 21, 2002

When I was drinking, I was capable of large-scale feats of stupidity. Falling down stairs, out of cars, out of chairs, off of toilets -- that�s just physical comedy. More stupidly, I blabbed my friends� deepest secrets, made incredibly insensitive comments, and screamed hysterically at people for reasons I couldn�t remember five minutes later. I threw myself at uninterested men I wouldn�t have looked at otherwise, and then I dated them.

At the time, I was not bothered by any of this. In fact, one of my and my friends� favorite activities was to rehash stories of our own drunken or drug-related (usually both) stupidities. It was a hilarious ritual, and one I believed elevated us to a realm of enlightenment and enhanced self-awareness. By mocking ourselves, we usurped the ability of others to do it.

Now that I�ve quit drinking, the stupid things I�ve done bother me more than they did. Still, I try not to obsess about them and usually I don�t. One or two things -- strangely, not what I would consider the worst things -- haunt me more, and pop into my mind when I�m feeling bad. Sometimes I don�t even realize I�m thinking about them until I find myself babbling or singing out loud. �La la la la la!� It�s the only way to drive that shit out of my head.

So, to summarize, the tons of incredibly stupid things I did while drinking bothered me not at all at the time and bother me not too much now. The question is, if I�m capable of cutting myself a break on the big things, why have I recently started picking myself apart over little stupid things that I may or may not even be doing?

For example, this Saturday I was at a training for one of my volunteer groups. I was eager to take part in the discussion but everything that came out of my mouth was wrong -- either factually wrong, or not interesting, or wildly misunderstood. The worst part was I couldn�t shut up. I kept trying to absolve myself and I was just digging myself a deeper hole. By the time I was able to shut myself up I was almost in tears. I had no idea whether I was really coming off as a total idiot or having some kind of anxiety attack. Probably both, in retrospect. I actually felt a kind of breeze in my chest, as if the flesh and bones were pulled back to expose not my heart but something dirtier. Maybe it was my heart, but dirty. Dirrty, even. It sucked, and it was all new to me.

Okay, I know part of the problem is that I didn�t take these chances before. I avoided social risks, and therefore avoided social anxiety. That�s not all of it, though. Recently, a friend asked me why I thought I drank so much in the first place. When I couldn�t come up with a reason, he suggested I did it �to take the edge off.� I denied any awareness of any such edge in my life. Well, maybe I was too drunk to notice it before, or maybe I actually introduced it into my life by quitting, but I think this is the edge. Either way, I�m certainly feeling edgy these days.

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recently:
Visitation - Tuesday, Jul. 20, 2004
Tired of This - Monday, Jul. 12, 2004
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