So much has happened that precipitated this thread, I don't know that there's an even or clear place to start from, other than the obvious. Inside my head can be a miserable, dark place to call home, filled with dysphoria, shame, and grief. That's literally the reason I drink; it's SOMETHING to look forward to, some moment of dimmed pleasure that is better than the nothing I usually live with, and alcohol is the easiest thing to get that does the trick. It's not the right path, it's one I know is wrong and destructive and my abdomen hurts from days of binging vodka. I know what it is; it's symptoms are clear. Away from the ache in my guts and liver and kidneys, I get the chills, shake a little bit if I'm not focusing, spend sleepless nights feeling hot and yet cold all at once, with my skin crawling and my mind an aching mess. It's all fairly mild, comparatively, but it's evident it's withdrawal. I drank myself into habituation again. Not only that, it has supplanted the things that would ordinarily sustain me to a degree that I was both aware of and oblivious to as I made the death-march down to the liquor store to stop feeling so hollow... when I was the one carving cavities out of the holes life was leaving in me. Even now, after swearing I couldn't do this anymore and I wouldn't and I'd free myself finally once the somatic pain subsides, the emotional and mental anguish have my eyes locked on the horizon, saying "It's not like it's going to be infinitely worse if you do it again. So you tack on a few days, so what? You can make it. And what else are you going to do tonight? Live with yourself? HA!" The idea of staying in this room even a minute longer with nothing except the raw, aching loneliness of being in the position I am sounds like a Hell I'd rather die than experience. I know this is a deception by my addict brain to fall back into the same behaviors and keep homeostasis, even if homeostasis is "Holy shit, everything's on fire!" For some reason I can't... no, it's nothing I'm oblivious to. Getting kicked down when it took you all that time just to get back on your knees, and you just have to start up that slope again... at a certain point, it stops being an inconvenience or a trial and becomes a heartbreaking reminder of how cruel and lonesome the world can be when all the people you trusted left you broken and won't acknowledge any of the things they did to you anytime soon, if they ever even do, and most will not. Maybe not for all of you, but certainly for me. I do not expect apologies even for the witting evils done against me by people who should otherwise be repentant if they expect to have any kind of relationship with me. The people I've grown up with never saw deeper inside of me, they never saw this aspect of my character through anything but clouded lenses and with skeptical hearts. So I just drink. I drink that pain away - along with all the other nightmares that came to visit as I tried in vain to heal from it - and then - with my inhibitions lost - I attack it, attack its very foundation and everyone adjacent to it. If I didn't know better, it's hard for me to say I'd want to put up with that in tandem with all the other stress and strain life places on us, if I was in their places. I won't pretend there aren't legitimate grievances, either. I just won't pretend those I have against the ones who wronged me were less destructive to the point that I alone need to capitulate. They weren't. The people who hurt me, however, do not understand that and cannot be made to. It's not in them. Not now. Maybe not ever. So where is all this going? Well, if I can't stand to do the same old things again and again without drinking myself stupid, I'll try something else; something that's helped before, even if it wasn't enough to keep me from falling again. I'll reach out here and see what one of the only communities I feel completely comfortable being myself around has to say. It's better than slugging down another bottle of Popov and chasing it with cheap soda until I black out and wake up, having sent a toxic diatribe to someone I didn't ever want to speak to again and hoping I can erase it before it's too late. That's not say that won't happen. I really don't want to drink and I know some mitigation techniques, but I also know once my Shadow starts getting his way, it's easier to surrender to whatever he wants than fight him off. At a certain point, it can feel almost necessary. Probably unhealthy that I see my evil side as masculine, but harboring that "Boys don't cry, suck it up, learn how to fight, stop being so sensitive!" bullshit became normal for me after a time. I still got hurt really easily, but this time it had the added bonus of making me really ashamed of myself. That's where that poison comes from, so I think it's rather fitting I personify it as the angry, maladjusted guy I was becoming before I realized who I actually am and why I was so miserable denying it. It's another thing that corrodes my heart that I never wanted or valued to any honest or significant degree, but couldn't refuse without potentially getting beaten to death or at least on the reg for it. Keep in mind, I live in Indiana, and I'm in my 30's. Being the little trans girl (and yeah, it would've just been me at that point) who was already near 6'0 (180cm) at 10 that everyone already hated for being fat, effeminate, and sensitive would've just made everything much, much worse. I probably would've just ended it, after enough additional abuse, if some instance of assault didn't wind up with someone hitting me just right to end my life. Anyway, I'm babbling more than I wanted to, because that's absolutely who I am, and I'm also tired, and most of this probably belongs in my journal rather than plastered to the walls of a shared space with others looking for hope and a way forward, because there are context to some of my more unusual statements (specifically about "my Shadow")... but I'm not changing anything. Sorry for writing a cryptic novella, as per usual, but... well, that's Aunt Lydia for you. Motormouth, that one, but she's been through a lot and she's really sweet in her heart, so... forgive her, ne? I love you all
I hope it's okay to reply here. I relate to some of this. I can't say I've felt the intensity of your pain myself, but tonight I've been sat here, having arguments with strangers on an app for not talking to me with an ounce of respect and with tears in my eyes at the deep loneliness I feel. Reaching out to people with the selfish aim of feeling less alone, and not being as concerned with how they are as with the deep loneliness inside my own heart that never seems to go away. I don't drink. I don't suffer from the dysphoria you suffer from. So I can't claim to have suffered as much as you. Not that it's a competition, but I didn't want to talk about myself as if I deserve as much attention or sympathy as you. I don't. But I understand in part at least. How crippling that loneliness and betrayal can feel. How much it physically hurts inside. How it feels to think nobody will ever want me, be there for me in the way I need. If you're going through the same thing, and it sounds like you are, then you deserve all the love and sympathy in the world because the burden you're describing is nothing short of unbearable at its worst. Write as much as you want here. That's what this place is for. You don't need to suck it up at all. You're a very sweet, sensitive soul from what I've read, despite your angry and frustrated side, which is an understandable one. I myself can be a bitter, enraged monster. You are much better than you think you are though. I'm hoping somebody else or many others will reply with better responses than mine. Mine is shoddy and short. But I wanted to say you matter, you're more valuable than you realise and what you're going through does not define you. You spend so much time helping others, that you forget how good you are yourself. What you are worth and deserve yourself. You listen to all the bad, but there's so much good there too.
I wish I could offer some good advice, but I can understand you. I'm trying to form these next words to the best of my ability and hope they offer some insight or maybe comfort. It's very good that you are writing here about it all. Don't bottle it all inside and drown your sorrows in alcohol. Alcohol can bring you temporary relief and forget things for a moment, but as soon as the alcohol goes away from your system, then it all comes back and you just continue drinking and getting addicted more. Alcohol also affects your judgement ability. It will only drag you down more. It's good you talk about it here, but it would also be good, if you had a therapist who you could talk to as well. It's better use for the money, that would otherwise be used for to buy alcohol. The way I deal with dysphoria is that I put on my headphones and listen to my favourite music to distract myself or wear clothing that helps to ease my dysphoria. It does get really bad often. I even get panic attacks. There are times I feel so awful that I take a painkiller with no reason in hopes it helps somehow and it really doesn't help. It only seems to me like it helps a bit. I tried to limit taking pills to relieve my dysphoria too, but sometimes I can't help it. I know it's bad. I know very well these hardships. You know sometimes it gets too much for me also and I tend to grave alcohol and then I distract myself from wanting to start drinking and focus on other things. I know what alcohol does to people and it's not pretty. I'm not trying to freak you out or anything, just telling what I know and hope you won't go down that rabbit hole. I have seen fights break out and young guy end up in nursing homes disabled and chained to his bed for the rest of his life, just because he drinked himself silly (he was drunk and he jumped from high to low water and injured his spine). It's okay to cry and let your emotions completely out. We here in EC are here for you and ready to listen you anytime. You are valued and loved. You matter. Sending warm hugs your way.
Just PMed you, Lydia. Hope you're feeling more on top of things today. Sending out love, strength and good vibes to you, my sister. Beth xx
I am not sure if what I say will be helpful. I won't pretend to understand everything that you are going through but talking about it, getting another perspective is always a good thing. I am truly sorry for all that you have been through, and completely understand the urge to want to drown it away with alcohol, but all it does is magnify the reason we wanted to drink in the first place, and not in a good way. I learned that the hard way. I also understand the feelings of betrayal especially from those that were trusted, it has left me heartbroken and in some cases vengeful, the feeling of loneliness being just as strong. To stop getting inside my head, I also listen to music, I sing along and find something to do with my hands like housework. It doesn't always work, but I am distracted for an hour or two. You have been receiving some great advice. Sorry I couldn't be of more help. You sound like a caring person who has much to give. Thank you for posting you are stronger than you think.
DragonChaser.....One of the reasons that Empty Closets exists is for folks to vent when they need to just get everything inside of themselves out. I think that's what you did and you can do it again anytime that you need to. Keeping everything inside just lets it get worse and worse, so having a place to just blast it out can be really important. I hope that we can find ways to help you heal the wounds that you have and getting everything out in the open is the first step in that process. I want you to know that we do care for you and that we do love you and the we do want to help you in any what that we can. You are a part of our wonderful LGBTQ+ Family and you are important to us. .....David
I'm here for you, Lydia, not going anywhere either. I know that everything is really tough right now, almost unbearable, but I know how tough you are. You can get through this, it will be incredibly arduous, but you can get there. Alcohol isn't the answer, we both know that it only makes things worse. You've got to stop doing this to yourself, please. You're my big sister, I love you too much to just sit by and watch you do this without trying to help.
I can't reply to all of these right now, and there may be new ones I haven't even skimmed by the time I'm finished writing this (not for sure, just don't want to leave anyone out), but I appreciate and cherish them more than I can say. I know I've made some social headway in our little niche, but it never ceases to surprise and humble me how many of you have kind, thoughtful, personal things to say to someone who's in crisis. I don't know if I can say this without being afraid of its consequences, but I did drink again anyway. I wrote this, I read some of your beautiful replies, and I'm compromised anyway with the monster sitting on my heart, asking for his Troll-toll.. From what you've said, I owe you the truth. I want to deny it, because it's been the catalyst in the past for others giving up on me and throwing me aside, but they did so because they needed to, not to hurt me. Denying any of you that after showing the support and love for me that you've had not only here, but elsewhere would be the kind of selfish betrayal others have inflicted on me, and then blamed me for directly. I'll be honest; I hate it, I really do. Until it started to numb the physical pain, it sat in my stomach like acid. I felt certain "This is killing me," and now that I'm numbed to it again, I don't feel less certain, just more afraid. More afraid that I've already done damage that can't be undone and is shriveling if not outright destroying the future I have. I feel a lot of things right now, and I know they're pulling me in conflicting directions, and that I can't reason appropriately right now. I kind of know that every time, but there's never been this much of a desire for honesty, healing, and connection. I think I'm done, if not now then very soon. Or maybe I just say that in the hopes you won't give up on me like everyone else seems to have. Or maybe I just need to go to bed and calm down for a while. Either way, I wrote more than any of you deserve having to read, so I'll just end by saying, once again, I love you all and, if I could have you in place the family fate brought me, I'd never have fallen into this kind of pit. Unfortunately, I got to trace out - before I knew what that was - at age 6 because the rant my parents were levying at me was entering it's 3rd hour and they decided, since it wasn't spanking us, it was still okay. Frankly, I'd rather they just hit me. They did before, and it took less time to excavate. Goodnight, my loves. I'm so grateful for you all, even if I'm deeply ashamed of what I've become and that I couldn't fight it, even after asking you all into my corner.
I see it all pretty clearly now. I suppose I could call it a "moment of clarity," but it felt like an epiphany. Spending so much time, wallowing in my anger; how it's twisting me into something I'm afraid of and know will never make me happy, keep me from becoming myself, keep me in this cycle of hurt and shame and self-abuse and rage, so much rage, just spilling out over the sides like a vat of acid beginning to overtake the boundaries. I didn't to drink last night, and I did anyway. It hurt me and made every paranoid feeling and negative impulse unbearable. Then I woke up this morning and looked at my abdomen in the mirror. My liver... I can see it. It's not much of a bump, but it's there. It hurt for a while, then it stopped. It's been quite since. My kidneys still ache a bit, and my stomach is always a little tender, anymore; the alcohol almost always goes on an empty or mostly empty stomach and that, combined with the acidic drinks I chase it with is a recipe for abdominal pain. It kept me from sleeping much, too, which hurt my performance enough at work for the bosses to talk behind my back and then lie to my face as if they hadn't, as if I don't know people or politics or who they are; I've got them pegged pretty well. Passive-aggressive, backstabbing shit-talkers. And the job I had, where I was headed to management, where I liked the people and even enjoy the work a bit, is gone so this is my only source of income. That's the last straw. It really is. I've had all I can stands, and I can't stands no more! I'm so miserable, so disappointed in myself, in so much physical and emotional pain, I realized as I was walking to work that my mind was giving up and surrendering to this misery and my body was accepting it too. I've been killing myself, slowly and painfully and wittingly. If I keep this up even one more day, it might be too late for me. It might already be too late to reverse some of the damage. I can't do that to any of the people I love and who love me. That includes almost all of you, and those it doesn't are still my allies and siblings in this terrible fight for our existence. Alcohol is so dangerous and stupid. I watched my grandfather get mean and angry and silly and sloppy, and I still chose to follow in his footsteps. He would never accept me or love me for who I am; why am I chasing his misery? Is that just who we are as a family? Miserable wretches who need something to either numb their pain or spread it around so it's not so unbearable? It doesn't matter anymore. I'm tired of slow suicide, and I refuse to die this way. I've never even had a chance to be happy in a real way; if it takes me a decade or until the end of my life, I will live as the woman I am and share the love that is inside me with everyone I can. For now, I'm fucking exhausted. I still have much to say, and much directly to say to your replies, but I didn't really think I'd even have the energy or guts to write this much, and I've said enough for now. I'm going to sleep, hopefully for a long time. I haven't gotten more than 15-20 hours of it in the last week, so if I can just rest up I know I'll feel better. I love you all and I thank you for giving me a reason to try when it seemed like I had nothing left.
@DragonChaser I think that there is something you are overlooking tight now. That is that you are far stronger than you think you are. You have been drug to hell and back and even if you are falling down, you are still fighting. Fighting for a better tomorrow that I think that you still have hope for.
It's been a while since I said I was going to say anything more. I just kind of wrapped a bandage around things and let them sit. I don't think that's healthy, but I'm not entirely certain what I want to say here, either. I've taken at least one positive step; I've quit social media, aside from this. A recent, as of today in fact, move and one I'm already feeling dubious about, but I've had enough nasty interactions with strangers who seem to want to misinterpret the things I say to gain some kind of clout, I guess. Also I came to realize a number of the friends I'd cultivated there were extremely toxic people, and I don't have a stable or happy enough life right now to guard myself against negativity like that, from strangers or "friends." In truth, you are all the best friends I've probably ever had; you've given me the greatest benefit of the doubt and appreciated me more than any other group of people I've ever met. Here, I feel I can be myself in ways I don't know that I can anywhere else. Here, I can figure out who "Lydia" is, without backwashed sludge from the quagmire of someone else's angry soul being vomited into me, when I'm feeling more open and vulnerable and alone than I ever have. I've been distant from those who help me most out of shame and fear, and getting closer to people who turn on me in an instant for misspeaking and accuse me of being everything I am not for saying something unpalatable to their ego. A lesson in what I was becoming, and what I may yet still become if I'm not careful. It is in this that I find my greatest epiphany; most of us are a series of tragedies away from becoming something horrible, if we refuse to accept that we are not immune from our darker impulses. I'm going to start spending more time here and less on other, unhealthier places. It may not be the endless parade of memes, but frankly I'm beginning to suspect that wasn't good for me either. Thank you all, once again, for every kind word. I don't know what I would do without you all, I truly don't.
