In 2022, I stopped drinking and started thinking.
Why?
Because I hated the feelings it left me with, sometimes days later. That feeling was an anxious, uneasiness – a feeling of wanting to go to bed, have an undisturbed sleep and start again tomorrow. I think the fancy word is hangover.
For me, drinking was no longer fun but featuring more in my week. I tried to regulate the drinking, but I would find a typical weekend of ‘relaxing’ could leave me feeling the physical and mental effects until Wednesday. Then it was a day or three of not drinking before the cycle repeated.
Gone are the days when I could run off a hangover, although it seemed to improve my Saturday morning tennis game for a season…not difficult btw
As the above-mentioned symptoms faded, my thoughts were getting louder. I replaced drinking with non-alcoholic options, easier than ever these days.
Sobriety brought replays of conversations, situations and manipulations. I was, in a sober state, seeing how many people believed they could treat me. I was putting up with a lot of disrespectful behaviours from people who claimed to be friends and ‘loving family’.
I felt like I was improving my life through better, less self-destructive habits, but I was somewhat struggling with the, now louder than ever voice inside my own head.
It was a familiar voice. Me, but real me. Some might call this voice their inner child.
As psychological understanding goes, we may carry wounds or traumas from childhood, which if left untended can show up as unwanted behaviours in adulthood. You know, drinking too much alcohol, even though we know not to. Experiencing familiar relationship issues, getting angry and having a temper for no major reason, etc.
Drinking alcohol apparently did just enough each week to keep that voice very quiet, but now, the volume button was broken at 11.
When people asked what my earliest memory was, I used to lie and tell them it was of a moving day, when my parent moved their young family to the area I grew up in. I was the youngest of 7, with 4 at home.
But that wasn’t my first memory as a human. My first memory was of being abused.
I always believed in my own ability to deal with that fact. “You can’t let stuff like that bring you down” was a mantra I thought was working, despite the fact that abuses lasted for years in my case.
I was blessed beyond measure the day I met my wife. Our worlds collided and since that day, she’s the only girl I want in my world. The only authentic love I’ve had.
This girl explained the symptoms of ADHD and suggested I might benefit from getting tested. “You think I should?” I genuinely asked.
“Err yep” came the confident reply. “Want me to book an appointment for you?”
Speed forward to the last assessment with the psychiatrist who led the diagnosis and confirmations. “So do you think you might have ADHD?”
“I’m still not sure” was all I had.
“Your score is very high in child and adulthood. Your ADHD is what is known as combined presentation ADHD.
She interrupted the silence that followed with a question; which made me breakdown; “what are you thinking?”
What wasn’t I thinking!
“…so much makes sense, and I’m having a hard time with the barrage of thoughts.”
“That’s perfectly natural” she assured. “You aren’t the first person to cry today” she said as she smiled warmly.
It really did feel like I finally understood ‘why’.
Not just the obvious stuff – why so many teachers, and previous employers were frustrated (lolz), but thoughts that had been tormentors since my own consciousness began. The behaviours I’d developed to cope, and the growing realisation I was a victim of childhood sexual assaults.
After the diagnosis I tried some ADHD medications but ultimately, I stopped all meds. I’m just not at peace with taking a daily stimulant. I’ll write about my daily supplements and why I use them in a bit.
Over the weeks and months that followed the diagnosis, I couldn’t stop the unresolved abuse I’d suffered and the countless opportunities that this has absolutely cost me in all areas of my personal and professional life.
One day my wife, asked “what is really going on?”
“You don’t want to know” I told her and left the room to try and protect this information trying to burst out of my mouth.
She followed me into the bedroom, and asked more of the same style questions, all met with broad answers about ‘having a tough upbringing’ etc. I just got upset and couldn’t say it.
The problem I had is, that she really loves me and called ‘bullshit’. She pushed it and one evening she asked “what’s the real issue here babe? I want to help” (what a beautiful soul). My excuses about coming to terms with the diagnosis were waning.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes”
My final warning to her, with tears streaming down “it’s going to F@£k everything up”.
“Tell me”
So I did.
Everything changed.
Although this is just one side to our story, my wife has had her own inner battles, which I learned.
Our solution was to start again. Our ‘friends’ became mute, and a few weak ones even chose to become flying monkeys for poorly behaving family members. Shame on both parties I say.
Our families just wanted this to go away. Keep the status quo. Both families have attached a large meaning to how they are perceived by their respective communities. Revealing childhood sexual abuse always ruins the party. Especially when a number of said family members rely on alcohol to manage their own daily state. As a local police officer lightly explained; “families don’t want their secrets to get out.” He was raised in rural Ireland…
This small blog is poignant. Just yesterday I had the final ‘exit session’ from my amazing therapist, Mr. Alex.
When asked “how are things different?”
I explained how if I saw certain people, I would struggle with feelings of anger and would want to give someone a bop.
“And now”? The inevitable question came
“I’d exit the situation, remove myself.”
“Why?” Mr. Alex probed
“I have better things to do.”
*Mr. Alex smiled
Therapy? Completed it mate.
We wrapped up by discussing Prof Peterson’s advice. We both agreed; when you tell the truth – you’ll have the adventure of your life’.
Mr. Alex guided me through some of the darkest nights of my soul, and the work we did saved my life, gave me peace and renewed purpose.
The real reasons which drove me to drink, in order to forget, now seem small. Fading all the time.
People who don’t drink are sometimes asked; “why don’t you drink?” But isn’t the most important question; why do you drink?
Not an argument or virtue signal or gloat, but alcohol is the only drug you have to justify not taking, and it’s not exactly harmless.
I wasn’t an alcoholic, but grandparents on both sides were, and they all suffered the fallout for their choices.
These days I prefer sobriety from alcohol, and the peace of living in Cornwall’s rugged nature, is a cracking alternative. Now I’m off for a cup of Cornish tea. Peace ✌️.
