Reckless abandon
How filling the void with substances can lead to an even deeper, more cavernous void
“I felt stuck, trapped, possessed. There was plenty of fear, but there was also a blithe indifference, as though I were looking out through glass on the accumulating wreckage of someone else’s life. It was like I was becoming a different person”
The Urge: Our History of Addiction by Carl Erik Fisher
For the latter half of my 20s, I spent most days in a perpetual state of torment—I’d wake up hungover from a night of carefree and careless binge drinking. The sleep, if I could manage any, was empty and dreamless, leaving me with a general sense of unease throughout the next day. It would take a lifetime before I’d manage to drag my lifeless body out of bed, my main motivation to start the day (besides caring for my dog) would be to drink again and hopefully ease my physical and mental anguish. Once I succumbed to my cravings, after several glasses of wine followed by vodka sodas followed by shots of whiskey, I’d complete the vicious cycle by falling asleep in a drunken stupor once more. To be fair, there were days that I wouldn’t drink. Days I’d let myself believe I was in control, fully denying any nagging thought that I might have a serious problem. Days I’d let my mind and body attempt to recover from all the damage I’d done to it. But the desire to be inebriated always returned; I had to hide from what I was running from, which was the pressing weight of a bottomless void. What was the void, exactly? I couldn’t figure it out at the time or name it. Maybe it was the simple truth that I was alive and that living was fucking hard. All I knew was that facing the void and getting closer to it brought unfathomable fear and dread. So I drank. I had convinced myself that drinking would help ease my suffering when all it did was make the pain lay dormant, growing deadlier during its slumber. I could never face the suffering because I didn’t want to face myself, ever. I didn’t know how to. So, any intermittent breaks I took from alcohol never lasted long. The void always loomed nearby.
It starts with a nauseous ache in the pit of my stomach. I stay up late every night until I can’t stand to keep my eyes open. I am constantly panicked that I’m falling behind in life, in everything. Is there something wrong with me? The tears won’t stop falling. I tell myself I’m happy and I’m healthy, that it’s just a bout of loneliness. But the void is ever-expanding, its sticky tendrils shooting out into a million different directions and wrapping around me, drawing me into its gaping mouth. The void is closing in, it’s all around me. Like something out of a Steven King novella, the void is a sphere-shaped monster with sharp teeth and an insatiable appetite, possessing the ability to travel through and devour space and time. If you don’t stop moving, it’ll eat you.
I got the Latin phrase, mens sana in corpore sano, which means “of sound mind in a healthy body,” tattooed on my inner right bicep when I was 20 years old: the age, I suppose, it felt cute and interesting to get Latin permanently engraved on my skin. It was a nod to my battle with thyroid cancer that I had as a teenager, which felt leashed to my identity after a thyroidectomy, the scar across my neck never failing to remind me of my brush with mortality. While I wouldn’t choose to get Latin tattooed on my body today, it isn’t an awful expression to live by. I still equate much of my health and happiness to the physical activity I partake in, and use running as a way to leave my body while simultaneously feeling connected to it. To be in motion is to feel alive. When I was drinking, I was still and stagnant, letting life pass me by. My fellow sober writer Dented Wagon’s recently wrote a piece, “Exponential Growth” which highlights how important it is to stay in motion if one wishes to stay sober, and how life will come to a standstill while you’re using.
Fitting into the mold of an identity helped to fill the void with meaning and purpose. Who am I? I am a cancer survivor. I’m a lesbian. I’m a writer. I’m a runner. I latched onto drinking and being a wino much like I grabbed hold of these specific identities throughout my life, each one giving me a false sense of purpose. But I was never one thing, I was all things. The void isn’t real. Or if it is, it’s your friend. It serves as a reminder that you are not just the one thing. You are ever-changing and evolving.
When I feel the void pressing in now, I don’t run, I face it.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Recommendations
Binging all things addiction-related. Here are some recs if you’re stuck figuring out what you want to read or watch next! If you’ve already consumed these, I’d love to know what you think of them.
Currently Reading:
The Urge: Our History of Addiction by Carl Erik Fisher
A deep dive into the genesis of addiction and the treatment industrial complex in America. Dr. Fisher is an addiction physician, professor, and recovering addict, weaving his own story of addiction, denial, and recovery throughout. I was fascinated to learn that one of the first success stories of AA was a lesbian named Marty Mann, who played a pivotal role in shifting the public’s opinion about alcoholism as a disease.
The Recovering: Intoxication and Its Aftermath by Leslie Jamison
While The Urge is a historical nonfiction book with hints of memoir, The Recovering is an addiction memoir with bits of historical and literary context sprinkled throughout. It’s both a rumination on the impact addiction has on creativity and a testimony of Jamison’s misguided attempts to fill the bottomless void.
Currently Watching:
This new docuseries on HBO is the first time I’ve heard about Synanon, an addiction recovery and community movement that was founded in 1958. At the time, NA was barely a thought and AA was a boys club for white, bottom-of-the-barrel alcoholics. The series covers the program’s inclusionary/ and revolutionary beginnings all the way to its tragic and violent end. New episodes air on Monday nights.