I have lived a long time, I guess. 55 years and still clicking along.
I don’t feel like I’ve lived that long, though. I mean, come on, 55 years? It seems like just yesterday I was wondering what to be when I grew up.
Okay, that was yesterday, I still don’t feel grown up, and though I want to be a writer, I have to eat too, so I augment my writer’s income with odd jobs until writing does pay enough for me to survive on. I hope that happens soon.
One reason it doesn’t seem like 55 years is that my concept of time is a little wonky. That’s a thing with us apparently, poor conceptualization of time. That’s why it seems like life is so short looking back.
But another reason that I don’t feel like I’ve lived all 55 of those years is that I spent a bunch of them numbing my brain with alcohol.
You see, alcohol would dampen down the sense of anxiety and amp up any thin wisps of self esteem I had until I felt a feeling that was pretty foreign to me. That feeling was contentment, peace.
But all good things must come to an end
It took me a while to realize that I was the only one feeling at peace when I was drinking.
Then it took a while longer to work out that I had no way of controlling how much I drank, so I couldn’t just drink a little. My drinking had two speeds, dead stopped or flat out.
… And then came the end
Finally, around the age of 25, after drinking for about twelve and a half years, I opted for the dead stop, as opposed to just dead.
So I traded in peace of mind for a life of trying to solve the puzzle of anxiety that came with my ADHD.
I discovered that general anesthesia has the same effect on me as drinking does. When I’m coming round, I have the feeling of peace, briefly. Once fully recovered from the anesthesia I can hold on to that feeling for a little while. But it’s darned inconvenient to go around having surgeries all the time just to feel contentment.
Full ahead, warp factor six!
So my rapid firing and rocket launched mind does not feel peaceful very often. Almost never do I experience contentment. And I have no surgeries coming up any time soon. Damned inconvenient, that.
But it isn’t all as bleak as I may have led you to believe. You see, I’m sober, and that’s a good thing. I’m aware of what draws me to drinking, that old self-medication gimmick, and that’s a good thing. And I love my mind. I love my quick and quirky mind as it races around like a child, in awe and wondering about everything that it perceives.
I may not have a peaceful mind, I may not have peace of mind, but I am at peace with the way my mind is. I have a peace of sorts. I’ll take it.