Part of my journey of ‘recovery’ is to not only delve into when my destructive behaviors are set into motion, but I’m also interested in their genesis. For instance, I struggle with feeling ‘less than’- why? Or, why do I need to argue a point into the ground…after all my reason has deserted me? Or, why do I insist that I’m soo special that I should not feel pain, loss, anguish or anxiety?
I’m sure the search will be near eternal but I ha found- along the way- moments that stand out clearly.
When asked to discuss my drinking history I usually start at college. Which is largely true- that’s where it started in earnest. There is a time before that sticks out, however, even against the backdrop of drinking and drunk relatives in holidy revel.
8th or 9th grade I was looking to fit in. I was tired of being seen as ‘uncool’ and a ‘nerd.’ I wanted to be seen as a good athlete, a good looking guy and a confident and cool dude. I started hanging with people in the periphery of that world. Someone who introduced me to chewing tobacco (can’t remember exactly whom) and a young man I’m calling Corey Ladros (because that’s how I remember his name). Full disclosure, that must not be the name because I couldn’t find him in any yearbook or on-line resource for where I grew up.
Anyway, Corey was cool. He listened to The Police and other New Wave and post-punk music. I loved that world and I wanted to be like Corey. True, he wasn’t a stand-out athlete and was intelligent but he wasn’t picked on like I was. At least that’s my memory- I’m not even certain of that.
We walked to my house from the junior high (not far) and there was no one home. We were sitting on the stairs and I went in to get a drink- I got us vodka and (I think) 7 up. Probably heavy on the vodka. I remember being surprised when he turned it down and feeling like I once again failed socially. Not wanting to be seen as indecisive (doesn’t feel like right word) I kept mine and drank it. Suffered through it, is more like it. It was awful. I drank his, too, I think.
The interesting thing here is that only one of us is thinking back on that incident. I’m quite certain that Corey has no memory of it- and if he did, he wouldn’t feel the emotional baggage I carry from it.
Once again, I am taking myself too seriously.
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