I’ve been told its best if I walk this path in silence, I’ve also been praised for my openness, vulnerability and courage. The fact is, suffering in silence is what got me here and I won’t do it anymore. I write raw and rarely edit, I write for myself and if someone gleans something useful from it then maybe I can help someone avoid the edge I fell off. In the coming days I will transition this to a blog I’ve been place holding for years and away from social media. I get it, you didn’t come here to see more depressing stuff, but this is the forum I have right now and writing is the healthiest tool I have at my disposal right now….
Some of you know what happened, some of you saw it, and some have heard it second or third hand either from me or someone else. The rumor mill has already come full circle and the stories are already embellished some. The fact of the matter is this story is horrible in the facts and requires no embellishment or exaggeration. I won’t go into detail here, but know this, there is NOTHING that can justify what I’ve done and why it happened. I am full of shame, embarrassment, sadness, guilt and anger at what happened. I am filled with emptiness and remorse and terrible grief as I think about the person I hurt and how they are processing that night. All I have is the underlying why and how it got from point A to point B. Knowing the underlying pain and trauma doesn’t make any of it ok, it just helps me to understand my path forward, to insure I will never allow these things to let me lose control again, ever. This isn’t how I wanted to show up in the world for anyone, let alone the person I love.
I’ve been angry my whole life, but until a therapy session a few days ago I never understood it’s root cause in fear. Fear of rejection and abandonment, trained and honed at a very young age by a series of events and occurrences. Situations I had no tools or awareness to deal with except anger. When I started lashing out and hurting other kids, I got told my anger was wrong so I put it away, ill-equipped to have any healthy tools to manage it. So I found ways to let off steam that didn’t hurt people I cared about, I punched walls, got in fights, wrote angry music and played in a band, was an enforcer and aggressor in the hockey rink, joined the Marine Corps and pushed myself to the front immediately. I created a self-image based in accomplishment so that no one could see the scared little kid inside. I confronted trauma and death matter-of-factly and buried those emotions in binge drinking sessions, casual sex and self-flagellation in the mountains and on the trails… None of this was about feeling good, It was just to keep me at a baseline and not feeling bad.
I have made myself available to everyone all the time to avoid feeling rejected. I had to be a part of everything and pushed myself to NEVER let anyone down, never leaving real time for myself or my pain and trauma. All the dead people I couldn’t save, the dead friends who took their own lives or died on some mountain side cold and alone after a daring exploit became a fatal mistake. My grandfather dying so young, my uncle, my mentors, in one way or another I felt abandoned by them.
I have come to know that trauma and pain are relative to the person who experienced it and there is no point to compare one person’s journey to yours or to measure it. We each must resolve our own experiences if we hope to move on from the pain and be healthy humans. I keep being told how “strong and determined” I am, that I can conquer this. The truth is, I don’t feel very tough or strong. I feel sad and overwhelmed. But at least now I understand what has been eating at me since a young age, it explains so much destructive behavior and the nonchalance attitude. The strong guy who was unflappable in the face of danger and stress, it was all part of a well-designed mask, because I was afraid if I showed a crack I would be less valued, less worthy, and less capable. I see now the error and how living this lie has led to carrying a tremendous burden of pain that has manifested as PTSD.
It was a perfect storm of the person I love needing space to work through grief, me being emotionally starved and unable to give her that gift (triggering rejection), three of my own friends dying in a few days’ time (two by suicide – more abandonment) on top of a bunch of other stress. Add a very unhealthy amount of alcohol and it all came crashing down.
Fear fed anger, with no healthy outlet, anger fed addiction, add more fear, more alcohol and the wheels not only came off, the car went off the cliff and smashed a wall head on. It’s like trauma and fear had the wheel, alcohol had it’s foot on the gas and I was just trying to hang on and pump the brakes. It was bound to happen. And the saddest part, is I knew at least two days before I needed help. But I didn’t know how to tell the people who kept asking if I was ok that I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to accept what they offered. And I am paying dearly for that, the person I love is paying dearly for it, and I can’t own it more, or be more sorry than I am. I can’t say sorry enough.
Today is twelve days sober. I have no desire to drink, my suicidal ideations from that night are gone for now. I realize now that I have been using alcohol to mask my pain for nearly 35 years, and it’s never done me one bit of good. Sobriety is the easy part of this journey. The hard work just started.
I lost a lot of followers when I started sharing this story last week, I’m sure I will lose more, that’s ok. I have a good group of friends supporting me and checking on me and a therapist that has unlocked things I’ve been hiding from most of my life in only a few visits. If you don’t want to read it, don’t. If you want or need to chat, reach out. My days of being the emotionally unavailable tough guy are over. My days of being honest with myself are just beginning. Love you all, and NEVER be afraid to take time for your self-care or ask for help.
JMH
