Sometimes the pool is empty and there is nothing inside. This leads to some dangerous and destructive behaviour in the life of an addict because it is invariably accompanied by a plethora of negative, guilt-ridden, self-doubting inner conversations that only serve to exacerbate and escalate an already unhealthy situation. Yesterday was the same and tomorrow will invariably follow suite. If I know all this, then why don’t/can’t I jolly well do something about it? If I look at it objectively, I get so irritated with myself for this indulgent and useless behaviour and the fact that I haven’t the gumption to just get up and change it. If I know that being at home on a grey and miserable London day isn’t going to be positive for me, let alone anyone else, then why don’t I just step out and take myself away from the situation? There are a million places to go to – so much to explore in this incredible city but instead, I choose to hole myself up inside these walls and remain a slave to the rituals that aren’t bringing me comfort anymore. Intellectually, I know that getting out and opening my mind to other things will be good for me – will possibly spark things off and begin to release me. However, there is that side of me that longs for the familiarity of this world that I inhabit and drown in and there is still an inexplicable reluctance to give it up. I guess its a bit like dieting – if one is overweight and knows one should lose some weight. You know that you will feel better for it and that you ought to do it but you keep putting it off and reverting back to behaviour that has some short-term gains but long term repercussions ( or in this case, some short-term pleasures but long-term gains….)
Is it because I am just too lazy to make that effort to change? Is it really easier to just slip into this semi-conscious state of oblivion despite the inevitable destruction that it will ultimately cause ? Every day the clock is ticking away. The days are wasted and I’m not getting any younger. Opportunities are slipping away and regrets are finding it hard to fit in a room that is crammed full of past mistakes,wasted moments and poor choices.
I don’t feel sorry for myself. How could I in a world with so much real suffering and genuine hardship? How can I feel anything else but ashamed and embarrassed about the way I choose to live? I am the one who has locked myself into my little fortress. No-one else is to blame. I live in a democracy where freedom of choice and expression are taken for granted and I abuse this every single day that I do nothing worthwhile for anyone else.
I have such mixed feelings writing this because I can see it for what it is and its pitiable and pathetic. Yet I choose to indulge in this way of existing.
The only difference between today and thousands of other days like it in my past is that today I am writing about it and choosing to put it out there, so to speak. Facing it so graphically and directly , whilst evoking further feelings of negativity towards self, at least yanks me from my numbing apathy, if only for the time that I am writing. This has to be a tiny step forward, right?
