My Relationship With Alcohol

TRIGGER WARNING: if talking about alcohol/alcohol abuse triggers you, please do not read this.

My relationship with alcohol is complex. In all honesty, I’m not supposed to consume alcohol at all because of the medication I am on but that is a rule I have ignored repeatedly, especially in this semester at University.

I think it is important to make clear that I am not a social drinker, meaning that I only ever drink alone. So, you might think it is completely normal for a 19 year old to use alcohol as a release, however many 19 year olds drink in friendship groups on nights-out as a way of having fun. I, on the other hand, drink for the sole purpose of getting drunk in my flat at night so that I do not have to grapple with the thoughts and feelings swirling around my mind. This is where I believe my relationship with alcohol becomes unhealthy.

When I make the decision to drink alcohol, it is because I want to forget about the things that are weighing me down. So, I drink strong spirits until I cannot think straight anymore. So, really I view drinking as a crutch; a way of getting through the night when I am too emotionally spent to deal with my own emotions any longer.

The buzz I get from drinking, the way it makes me feel light and removed from the person I spend the rest of my time being is difficult to ignore. A niggling voice remains at the back of my head every time I feel myself spiralling into a dark realm of thinking. It tells me to ‘just have a drink, it will make everything feel better’. That voice becomes stronger at night, especially if I’m craving sleep.

As I am writing this, a drop of alcohol has not crossed my lips for the past two weeks. I have been making a conscious effort to exert control over my impulse to drink away my thoughts. Although, it has left me wondering why I bother because avoiding alcohol has, if anything, just made me feel worse. Being sober has not brought any great epiphany to my life which the idealistic side of my personality so hoped it would.

Alcohol is a part of my life I keep secret from many people. My support worker at University knows that drinking carries a heavy amount of temptation for me and continues to warn me against it because of the conflict it holds with my medication. I was also honest about it at my last mental health assessment, not that I felt it had any effect on the outcome of my assessment. However, I keep my drinking very separate from my family, it is a part of my life that they have little insight into. Whilst they know that I drink, I have never told them the thoughts and behaviours which go alongside my alcohol intake.

One thing my destructive behaviours have taught me over the years is how to keep secrets.

 

Poems about my relationship with alcohol:

Finding Comfort In A Bottle

Finding Comfort In A Bottle – Part Two

 

If you want to see more daily ramblings from me, follow me on Twitter – @RyanBInNature

 

Resources for help with alcohol-related issues:

Recreational drugs and alcohol – Mind, the mental health charity

Drugs, alcohol and the links with mental health – Rethink Mental Illness

Alcohol and mental health – Drinkaware

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Closing The Chapter Of November

November has been a funny old month, full of a jumble of occasions, tough moments and travelling back and forth between my family home and University. So, in a bid to get my mind around everything that has happened in the last 30 days and document these events for my own memory, I thought I would do a post to close this month’s chapter.

Opening-up and being assessed

November brought with it more than its fair share of mental and emotional hardships. The weight became a lot for my mind to bear, so I reached out to different people for help. Although I didn’t always get the results I wanted or needed from these attempts, at least I know that I took responsibility for my own mental health again this month and didn’t completely close myself down, no matter how strong the temptation to do so was. I continued attempting to adjust to my new medication this month which prompted me to write a post about the stigma around taking medication for your mental health. Finding the right medication can be a long, confusing and winding road which I’m not convinced I have fully travelled yet, so this month was about me assessing the impact my meds were having on me and the extent to which they have been effective.

 

Deadlines crept-up on me

I handed-in my first two proper essays of my second year at University. One minute their deadline dates seemed in the far distance, then suddenly they were upon me and I felt woefully unequipped to tackle them. Whilst there are many ways I could have better approached these assignments (essentially giving myself more time to do them!) I’m proud that I managed to give them a good go whilst juggling some of the heavy mental health-related things which were swirling in my life.

 

Back and forth

The train journey between where I live at University and my family home has become a habitual presence in my life over the course of this past month. Due to birthdays and appointments, I have been needing to be present at home quite frequently. Each time I go back there, I gain a new appreciation for how much I miss the simple things which come with being home. The town I grew-up in makes me feel nostalgic these days with every corner prompting memories from my childhood to flash in front of me, whereas before I only held a seething resentment for the (admittedly very much imperfect) place.

 

Birthdays at every corner!

There was a grand total of six birthdays within my family during November. First of all, it was my Godmother’s 31st birthday then her sister’s 22nd. It’s crazy to think of them as being at these ages, it makes me wonder where all those years went between them being the girls I once saw them as and the confident young women they now are. Then, there was a 17th birthday in the family, another milestone that I cannot quite believe has crept-up so quickly, especially when I remember going around to said boy’s house when we were nothing more than tiny tots. Then, both of my brothers and my grandma had their birthdays. My grandma turned 91 whilst still holding herself with the youth, energy and wit of  someone years younger. Also, she is nothing less than a flipping style icon to be honest; that woman knows how to put together an outfit!

 

Fantastic Beasts, The Crimes of Grindelwald

It takes a lot to get me excited about a film because I’m not particularly a movie fan considering that I usually find it boring to sit through over an hour of watching something. However, JK Rowling’s wizarding world has a place in my heart that I cannot even attempt to explain or summarise, so the second Fantastic Beasts film had been a date in my calendar for quite a while. I went to see it in the cinema (a very rare occurrence for me) and I was blown-away by the spectacle of it. I genuinely believe the people who work on the visual effects of those films must be near geniuses! As we re-visited Hogwarts, I felt a very real tug on my heartstrings and the phrase ‘Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home’ played in my mind.

 

I can’t say that I’m always proud of myself

My attendance this month at University has been patchy at best. When my anxiety in particular rears its head in its customary vicious fashion, I struggle to even open the door of my flat let alone take a step outside of it into the danger of the wider world. Therefore, my attendance at seminars and lectures took a hit. The thought of sitting through a class whilst destructive thoughts raged within me and words stuck in my throat was, at times, too much for me to bear. I couldn’t pretend that I was ‘well’ when, in reality, I was feeling at the complete mercy of mental health. However, for the classes I did manage to attend, especially in the last week of this month, I can be pleased that I pushed myself to regain some control over my academic life and didn’t let my lack of attendance spiral out of control too far.

 

So, it is now December. Who knows what this month will throw at me or you, yes you, reading this. However, I’m immensely grateful for whoever will be here to read the following instalments on this blog and follow my somewhat volatile ramblings as I relay my thoughts, feelings and emotions. To anyone who has commented or given me a like this month, I am so, so grateful to you! You have no idea what a boost those such things can give to my day when I am feeling low or anxious or anything in between.

 

If you want to hear me ramble on everyday follow me on Twitter – @RyanBInNature !

 

A Mental Health Update

Recently so many mental health issues have reared their heads and spun out of control in my life that I thought it may be useful for me to write about them all in a blog post to see if that helps me not feel so overwhelmed by my emotions.

TW: TALK OF SELF-HARM, DEPRESSION AND SUICIDAL IDEATION

Firstly, the feeling of hopelessness has been following me around for weeks. Like my shadow, it has shown me darkness in every moment or situation I have been in. Hopelessness has fed on my fear that no matter what I do my life will always be controlled by my mental health conditions which I will never have the power to make better. I have despaired for hours on end about how I cannot see any light at the end of the tunnel and I have lost faith that one day I may be free of all the negativity which constantly weighs me down. I’m starting to believe that my mental health is a life sentence.

My anxiety has been running wild lately. Without the energy to tame it, the beast has chained me to my flat and isolated me from everyone. Even when I do manage to creep outside my front door and brave the wider world, it haunts my every step and tells me that I should sprint back inside before something terrible happens. Almost everyday I wake-up feeling nauseous and ill because of my anxiety. Butterflies in my tummy remind of the dangers which could lurk around every corner and the worries in my mind paint the world to be a very dangerous place.

Partnering with my chaotic anxiety, my OCD has flared-up again. Intrusive thoughts have taken on a graphic hue and I cannot look at certain people without the thought of them harming me flashing constantly across my mind. My OCD informs me that everyone is dangerous and that I am vulnerable to being attacked every second of the day, so I am left scared, vulnerable and confused even in my own home.

Self-harm has crept its devious way back into my life. Yet again, I have to keep my arms covered by long sleeves so no-one can see the evidence of what I do to myself. The loathing I feel towards myself has yet again manifested itself in violence and I feel like a defenceless pawn in self-harm’s twisted game.

I have been at the brink of thinking that life is no longer worth living. However, I sought help and went to speak to my local mental health team with the faith that, once they heard what I had to say, they would know how to help me. Instead, it turns out that I left the centre with a couple of numbers written down on a flimsy piece of paper and the encouragement to self-refer myself to a charity, as if this was something I had not already tried. This felt like a kick in the teeth. They ignored my request to review my medication and, although I have a final review appointment booked there, I have no enthusiasm to return to their service again after this experience. Finding no help available for the one place you hoped may give you some answers is so deflating it is almost too painful to think about.

The atmosphere of University has only been exacerbating my problems. Everything feels worse in the context of this high-pressured environment, in which I am surrounded by people to compare myself unfavourably to. I look around and see people able to move around without being heaved down by the weight of anxiety and depression, then self-loathing fills up my body and soul again with a vengeance.

 

 

CONTACT ME:

Twitter – @RyanBInNature

 

Is The Internet Poisoning My Mind?

Life takes on a different sense of touch
When my eyes are not grazed,
Or pricked by poisoned pixels
Invading my mind via osmosis
From a scarily familiar screen.

Finding Comfort In A Bottle – Part Two

I love the seizing ache
As it spreads across my chest,
Powerful and raw like wildfire;
It blazes a trail down my body
Resting in my stomach where it burns
As my whole body yearns towards it.

The longing to seize this power
And draw it down me never ends –
It’s a part of me –
The portion of my whole which craves
More destruction, the release
Coming from such sickly, manipulative liquid.

Despite the warnings, the stop signs,
Before it reaches my mouth,
The liquid release settles inside me anyway,
Leaving it’s mark burnt into my being
And caressing the lost parts of me
Which it makes a point to find and seek.

 

The first instalment of this poem can be found here: Finding Comfort In A Bottle

 

 

Flawed Hope

I might suck the vitamins from my tongue
Lame as a tamed, feral animal,
However, their colourful bottle fools me;
When promise comes in a capsule
Your ground has already slipped away.

Under The Puppeteer’s Control

Do you know what it is like,
The electric charge in my head?
It sends shockwaves to my fingers,
Vibrates the crux of my bones
And sends me skidding into the night.

As uncontrolled hands fly over my head –
My body a veritable war zone –
I look to my feet, scolding them,
Before I remember the puppeteer is above
So dominant, it kills my control.

My Anxious Chest

Anxiety has a smothering hug;
Like a mother bear who pretends to protect you
Whilst it goes about suffocating your existence,
To the point where your lungs are a cage
And the locked bars on your lips allow no escape.

Anxiety has the manipulative claws of a monster;
It pretends to protect you from potential
Doom, then goes about crushing your skull
With the pressure of an invading force
Which, guiltily, you let in in the first place.

Welded into a cage designed by your fears,
What lies outside the bars is always a threat,
Movements and sounds are menacing
When the sky cannot even by trusted
And your hope for a future comes crumbling down.

Survival Mode

I curl myself into a ball
To save myself –
Stave off the jeering knives,
Make them wait another day
For me to expose my tissue paper flesh.

I fall asleep on my hand
Because the yellow lights pull
My eyelids down,
So the veins, like crossroads,
Slither so narrow – they shut.

 

YOU CAN FIND ME HERE…

Twitter – @RyanBInNature

Instagram – @awalkwithnature00

Boxed Into A Corner

Writing things down feels like a prophecy;
Ink it with a pen and it shall be,
Like the death carvings on stone:
I am the cornered tribe
Waiting for you to take my home.

 

 

YOU CAN FIND ME HERE…

Twitter – @RyanBInNature

Instagram – @awalkwithnature00