let’s black out the bad

A difficult part of recovery that has been a pain point for me has been how to handle drinking – particularly in social situations. I – much like others who suffer with bipolar or other mental illness – spent many years turning to self-medication via alcohol.
Nights drinking with Manic-Rikki, however, were a very different experience from anything that someone who knows me now could imagine. On a good night, I would simply collect as many people together as I could, figure out a venue for us to hang out, and let the good times ensue. Sure…it led to some wicked hangovers, but that was no harm.
There were times more often than not that have become fuzzy around the edges – of the parts I can remember at all. Dangerous choices were made, I was carefree and way too wild. I trusted the wrong people, focused on unimportant things and checked out of my out life.
It’s hard for me to think about this, admit this, or sometimes even see this in my past as it was sometimes just a collection of three days…and then I would be okay for two months. But then two weeks I would go insane. A week of depression. Then claw my way out.
And over…and over…and over…
Once I moved back home from college, there was a good four or five months of struggle before I ended up pregnant. I was shocked awake, and was lucky enough to be drawn away from everything that was feeding the chaos in my head.
After the pregnancy, I was terrified of going back to the life I once lived. I was terrified of hitting rock bottom. I no longer knew the person that was back before, but I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to be. And while it was a slow slide…. I did eventually find myself back in turmoil, pouring myself into a bottle a night to tuck myself away from my problems and deal with the disappointment in myself and the loss I was feeling.
Interestingly enough, me getting a car and being hired for my first “grown up” job – in logistics – in Peoria gave me a reason to clean up my act. I was now a Monday-Friday worker, and I had a job that was somewhat challenging.
Life was exciting again!
Over the next few years, I went through phases of weekend partying, followed by months of sobriety. I couldn’t find the right mix, and would get myself so worked up that I felt the only way to have a social life was to jump back into the old one. Hell, sometimes I still feel like that.
It wasn’t until I moved out of my mother’s house, and was in a new city, with my new job that I started having to face this demon along with many others. My relationship to alcohol wasn’t one of those things that was clearly defined, or that was even harmful all the time, so it wasn’t even the star of the show for a long while. But eventually, like everything, it had to be addressed.

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