quart in session

So you know how sometimes your favourite character on TV, a character who is flawed by addiction, quits their substance of choice and you sort of get...disappointed? Like it was such a pivotal part of their character and a bit why you liked them in the first place? That's how I feel about myself. I'm not romanticising anything; my life really was more fun. Late nights out, inside jokes, fast rides on motorcycles, self and city exploration. Sure, I can do that stuff now too, but I'd only compare it to how I experienced it before, and before was just so so much better. I know I'm not being a good spokesperson for sobriety, but there you have it. And then I think to myself how good it all was, the wind in my hair and the toxins in my blood, and I think I've already lived a full and exciting life. I feel like I've already lived a lifetime. And it makes me imagine myself as a senior at a nursing home where I have my soap operas and there's always someone touching me and I think - I want to be there. Because right now, with so much of my active life remaining and nothing with boredom and despair defining it, giving the sharp edges smooth corners, I feel like such a failure at life. Before, I was an addict and an alcoholic, but at least I was those two things. I had spark, a vitality, a lust for 'anything goes', and now I am nothing. I am biding my time until that nursing home. And to top it off, I'll probably not remember any of the good times by then. 

Now, let's talk about anhedonia and its relationship to addiction. Anhedonia is the inability to derive pleasure from things you used to. Some people have depression without anhedonia; they just feel gloomy and grey but things they enjoy can pull them out a bit. Some people have a bit of anhedonia. Me, I have all anhedonia all the time. If I had any more anhedonia I could probably sell it on the black market like used panties. Anhedonia is the soul-sucking, identity-robbing part of depression. And you know what temporarily alleviates anhedonia? The only thing that does (for me, at least)? That's right- substances ('I'll use the big 'S' for all abused substances, a la Infinite Jest). Those illicit toxins create a sort of fake space for pleasure. And it's a damn good fake, I tell ya. Like, prophet-convincingly fake. I mistook it for real pleasure for almost 2 decades. And at some point I knew it wasn't real, but it was all I had. And since I still have anhedonia, it's almost impossible to resist the temptation of that false pleasure. Without it I quite literally have no pleasure at all. Such is the reason so many depressed people are addicts, and why they fall off the wagon so easily. Until there's some sort of magic cure for anhedonia, their life will continue to be a battle where pleasure, however fake, is offered - but cannot be or should not be procured.  I cannot enjoy much of anything (not even a massage or warm bath or tea) without the big S substance. I know I'm not alone in this. I've heard of lots of people, from NoFX's frontman to William S. Burroughs, who though realising they must lead a more healthy life, hates that sober life because it lacks substance (pun intended). I liked the harsh angles of addiction. The anticipation of that first hint at some alchemical change in your perception, the night- the dive bars and diners and parking lots and taxi confessionals. And even the groggy mornings, the coffee melting the confusion of the night before. All that trashiness. It made me feel alive. I was just... feeling. For once I was feeling something. It was a window into a world I was otherwise not invited to attend.

I have nothing to offer in terms of overcoming this and feel badly for anyone reading who was hoping for a more uplifting and constructive view of sobriety in the midst of a deep depression. But I got nuthin'. Nothing except, I know. I feel it too. You're not alone. I am here with you.