Looking Back On My New Year’s Eve, Stupid Decisions & Stability.

The art of self-sabotage.

Just an indulgent repeat of my New Year’s Eve night, these thoughts are getting tedious, drinking is definitely not my friend. Trying to make these experiences ‘life lessons’. 

I had a few drinks; my head was swimming; swimming deep, trapped in the thoughts of the past. My present life is going extremely well, but it always seems that my past plays on my mind, slowly taking away from the joys of the present. I wonder if you can start to forget these thoughts, put them behind you, hoping for a fresh start. I know I’m stable, yet there are always these particular thoughts, amplified by a glass or two of wine. The alcohol brings the past back into clarity, who I use to be and what I use to do to myself. Binge drinker, depressed, self –harm, binge eating to combat depression, attachment issues, suicidal tendencies, un-empathetic, fitness junkie, food restriction and control freak. I think about all of this, I have time off from work and no university at the moment, I feel completely useless and unproductive, spending my days doing nothing. I know I’m stable, but this uselessness isn’t helping me. In the early hours of New Year’s day, as I slowly walked home through the worst parts of town, I knew I was out to hurt myself, I knew full well that it was dangerous to walk here. I stopped on the rickety bridge that was above the overpass, I didn’t move from that spot, wondering what my body would look like if it had fallen and hit the rocks below.

Drinking that night and being on medication wasn’t in my best interest, it was self-destructive. I type these thoughts so that I can put them behind me, hoping they won’t come to haunt me later. I pushed myself away from the bridge, the indulgent distraction led me into a drunken group of men that had been kicked out of a pub, I heard their catcalls, but I wasn’t bothered, I don’t think I cared. Their jeers continued for a while, I kept walking, not enticing them. In the morning the only thought I had about the night was the fact that my heels had allowed me to walk the 6km home without any bother. I didn’t regret the night, the adrenalin I got from my potentially dark walk home served to reinforce the negativity that I had been searching for. My friends said goodbye to me that night, asking where my cab was, telling them it was coming and that they should go back inside, I started my walk, thinking that I needed to clear my head, but there wasn’t anything to clear, just an angry voice inside that was egging me on just to see what would happen, there wasn’t any weighing up of risks, I just walked.

10 thoughts on “Looking Back On My New Year’s Eve, Stupid Decisions & Stability.”

  1. do you mind if I reblog this, or even just quote without a backlink? I can relate to so much of what you said. yet it said it so much more proficiently than I could.
    (don’t feel obligated to say yes, btw. you can just delete and forge this comment, if necessary. 🙂 )


  2. I think you definitely can. I have worked with ACT (Acceptance Commetment Therapy) and it has beem great. Please understand I’m not a “therapy” geek bt any means and usually run the other way when people start spouting letters at me, but I had really had it and needed something… The Happiness Trap by Russ Harper is a great book. Maybe check it out…. I don’t know.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Asking for trouble because you’re used to trouble? One of my chief regrets about an earlier stage of my life is the large role that alcohol played in my social interactions. It was part of the fabric of life, so I took it for granted, not knowing I had a choice. Now I know that every hour of every day, I have the choice of being somewhere else, doing myself differently. I am in charge of my life, not alcohol. When I realized that fact, I became me.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Im pretty sure I’m at the same point as you now, I hadn’t had a drink in a fortnight, it was just the few drinks that turned badly, the depressant effects of the alcohol making my judgement impaired, but I have to acknowledge that it was my fault, at least I’m learning and trying harder. Always a long road.

      Liked by 2 people

  4. Reblogged this on Spunkypedia and commented:
    I feel like that bearded guy in the Indian philosopher-poet, Rabindranath Tagore’s poem, ‘Parash Pathar’, who sets out to the ‘philosopher’s stone’ that would turn metal into gold and make him rich.

    In the poem, he trudges through villages and hamlets, picking rocks and striking them against an iron chain he has round his waist. Soon folk come to recognize him as this nut who mumbles to himself and keeps talking about gold.

    In this way, he travels far and wide, growing gaunt and famished since no one would provide him shelter, thinking he was looney.

    Soon the motion, the picking up and the striking against his chain, became mechanical and the man. He didn’t give up, but deep inside he began to believe that there was no such thing as the philosopher’s stone.

    His motions became so mechanical that when he looked down at his belt one day, he found it had turned to gold and he hadn’t even noticed.

    Mr. Homeless began retracing his steps back, in the hope that he would find that stone which had turned his belt to gold.

    I think I am that guy, on my way back, my belt already golden but worthless. Since I am still looking for that stone.

    I love the way you write.

    Don’t, please, don’t make me cry.



  5. Hi, I’m an old fart from Oregon. 65 and ignorant as the day I was born. However, I could relate to your post about that night. I spent a lot of my earlier life pretty much doing the same thing. a) that feeling of having taken a dangerous chance, that I mixed substances, b) haunted by the past. That you can create interesting narrative shows that you do have a purpose in this indifferent existence we navigate. I enjoyed your post. I saw myself in it.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Hi!
    Thanks for following my blog!
    First off, I love the way you express your emotions through words.
    I actually feel that the best way to express something is though writing, and this post really supports what I just said.
    I don’t know how or why, but I feel that I can relate to you, in some strange way. Yes, I do get depressed very often. Yes, I do resort to contemplating running away from home. Yes, I think of how it would be if I were to die.
    It is Pink Floyd’s music that stops me from doing horrible things.
    I even had a really bad relationship because of my “mood swings”.
    I apparently “PMSed” more than my ex.
    But I drowned all my sorrows out through words. Perhaps that is why I can relate to your writing.
    I don’t know if I’m bipolar or not; I’ve never gotten myself tested. I suspect that I probably am, though.
    Either ways, nothing signifies the end of the world!.
    Keep writing, PLEASE! You’ll make yourself smile, along with thousands of other people!

    Liked by 1 person

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