Don’t let me get me (8)
“Turn it up!!!” I instructed my mom from the passenger seat on our way to the mall. I'd just turned sixteen and was looking forward to doing some shopping with friends. Later in the evening we would be attending our first high school party and I needed to find a tight shirt to lift and accentuate my inadequate bust.
“Don’t let me get me. I’m my own worst enemy; it’s bad when you annoy yourself. So irritating. Don’t wanna be my friend no more, I wanna be somebody else” I belted out along with Pink. They were words I could identify with. Singing them out loud was both liberating and painful. As I ended the chorus, I felt tears forming in my rapidly swelling ducts, and instinctively held my breath while clenching my teeth to prevent them from streaming down my face. I then let out a low sigh and re-focused my thoughts on the present.
“Man, you really like this song,” my friend playfully observed from the back seat.
“I can relate.”
To go out on a limb with this theory would be an understatement. I'm more so dangling from the weakest branch of a twenty foot Crabapple, a hungry pack of wolves nipping at my ankles. Even so, I believe that everyone-at some point-has had a suicidal thought. Whether it be fueled by vanity ( I wonder how many people would come to my funeral?) Due to an overly dramatic response to everything ( you ruined my favorite sweater! I want to die!) A moment of intense melancholy or sadness ( things have been rough lately, it would be easier if I weren’t here) Or a true mental break, induced by a devastating and overwhelming sense of worthlessness and despair caused by any number of reasons ( this world does not care about me or I it. I have no other choice)
How marvelous it would be to be cruise through life with no stresses, worries or feelings of doubt. In most people's lives this is not the case. The majority of those around you are fighting a daily battle, wrestling with demons you cannot see. This is particularly true of the addict or alcoholic. Riddled with insecurities and unplayable hands. A constant losing game.
Why is it that as human beings we come out of the womb feeling judged and inferior? Why as a society do we single out children and pin them against each other in pursuit of a gold star or “# 1” trophy? I believe that this so called “sense of balance” is a disservice to both sides of the coin. Being picked last. Not being told you’re special. Being mercilessly bullied. Never feeling like you measure up to the rest. Those are devastating perceptions for children. They experience a sense of loss and emptiness no adolescent ever should. In today’s world, it’s unfortunately the reason many take their lives or turn to drugs and alcohol.
It isn’t just those on the losing end, however, who are effected. Growing up, I was a “popular” kid with tons of friends, awards and praise; the other side of the coin. Even so, I crawled in my own skin, tolerating it like an itchy sweater, learning early on to “fake it till you make it.”
In the fifth grade, I was selected to participate in the TAG program for “Talented and Gifted” students. I remember the interview process; being pulled out of class so a teacher could assess my intelligence through a series of puzzles and brain teasers. I was sick to my stomach with nerves while adrenaline surged through my system. A reaction produced by my body and brain’s need to rise to the occasion. Out of all the kids in my grade, I was selected as one of the chosen handful. The part I found both interesting and perplexing about the group of students chosen was just how different we all were from another. That being the case, I didn’t understand why some of my friends (who I found to be smart and engaging in their own right) couldn’t join us. Why me? Before that point, I was definitely a teacher’s pet, but that particular commendation catapulted me into a whole new stratosphere of approval seeking and need to impress.
Enter people pleaser to a fault.
I subscribed to that mentality my entire life. Carried around the obligation of excellence like a treasured rag doll. The older I got, the more I resented my self-imposed transcendence. I wanted to distance myself from the “goody two shoes” pre-teen who watched her friends take risks while she nobly sat in the corner.
“Come to the football game with us. We’re gonna drink Dubra on the walk over,” coaxed my best friend one middle school night’s eve.
“No thanks. I don’t need to drink. I have plenty of time for that when I’m older and of age,” I smugly replied.
“Suit yourself, little miss priss” she teased.
A year and a half later in high school my entire attitude changed. I didn’t like feeling as though my ideals and way of thinking were different than my peers. I didn’t like being thought of as “cute” instead of “hot” like my friends. Once I discovered the escape alcohol could provide, I did a complete 180 and never looked back.
I liked this new person. She was cool, sexy, intriguing and conveyed a willingness boys found appealing. But she also had a dark side. One which completely consumed me when it chose to. I became one of those people who entertained the idea of a world without my presence. I let people use me. Use my body. Manipulate my mind and numb my emotions. By the time I reached my mid-twenties, I was a full blown pessimist with a horrible outlook on life and love. To me, life was something I would never figure out and healthy relationships were as mythical as mermaids. I had turned myself into a joke, except no one was laughing. I preached to the high heavens that being single was far better than committing myself to someone and them to me. The truth is, I had to view things that way, because no one wanted to tell their friends they were involved with me let alone call me their girlfriend or treat me with respect. I talked a good game and never let anyone see just how unhappy I was, until I was a pint of bourbon deep.
“I’m faking glory, lick my lips toss my hair and turn a smile on, and the story’s brand new” are words to my favorite Lorde song “Bravado.” They were words I lived every day.
Where had I gone wrong? Where had been my self-esteem, sense of self -worth and belief in human decency? Moments of depression once few and far between were becoming all too
regular. After a particularly daunting and hysterical episode around my 24th birthday, I thought back to a childhood memory when a little boy named Tyrell wrote me a love note and gave up his seat at lunch so I could sit with my friends. Such an innocent, simple gesture, but it stuck with me after all those years because it was real, and nothing in my life felt real. Meaningless trysts with guys who claimed to care about me and consider me a good friend, but ran at the first sign of dependence.
regular. After a particularly daunting and hysterical episode around my 24th birthday, I thought back to a childhood memory when a little boy named Tyrell wrote me a love note and gave up his seat at lunch so I could sit with my friends. Such an innocent, simple gesture, but it stuck with me after all those years because it was real, and nothing in my life felt real. Meaningless trysts with guys who claimed to care about me and consider me a good friend, but ran at the first sign of dependence.
It took me a long time to break my old habits and put myself first. To realize I wasn’t that girl who valued nothing and cared about no one. Even after I got sober, I put myself in unhealthy situations with men and continued to believe superficial and empty exchanges were all I deserved. Even now, as I write this, I have a hard time believing someone could be interested in me- all of me- with no hidden agenda or poor intentions. That people do genuinely care about one another and it’s possible to love someone and for them to love you back.
No matter how you were treated in your past, no matter how the world viewed you, good or bad- pushed you down or raised you up- being yourself is enough. Escaping your reality through substances, no matter how suffocating it may feel, is a tragedy. You are depriving good people of your company, beauty, love and spirit. Once I let go of all my negativity and opened up myself to the possibilities of this world, I found peace and attracted truth. I’m finally in a good place thanks to working the steps of AA and accepting most things are not in my control. Though not easy and most definitely terrifying, I have finally let my guard down to give a special and worthy person the chance to prove they are not like the rest.
It’s never too late to rectify the damage you’ve done to yourself and others. To put out the fires in your mind and settle into a better way of living, thinking, and loving. I hope that everyone can reach the state of contentment I’ve been able to achieve since getting sober.
In Lorde’s “Bravado” she chronicles her path to self-discovery and acceptance. At 27, these are the lyrics I can now relate to and sing proudly:
“It’s a switch flipped, it’s a pill tipped back, it’s a moon eclipsed, woah
And I can tell you that when the lights come on I’ll be ready for this.
It’s in your bloodstream, a collision of atoms that happens before your eyes.
It’s a marathon run or a mountain you scaled without thinking of size.
I was frightened of, every little thing that I thought was out to get me down.
To trip me up and laugh at me,
But I learned not to want the quiet of a room with no one around to find me out.
I want the applause, the approval, the things that make me go, oohh.”
***Take what you like and leave the rest***
