When loneliness turns into an urge to numb out

I wanted a drink the other day.

It was a Saturday. Between 3-4pm. My witching hour.

After all these years, loneliness is still my biggest button. It’s the emotion I least want to feel. It’s also the emotion that gets me to spiral the most. The one that gets me sucked into story the most. The one that victimizes itself the most.

There’s a dusty bottle of Campari sitting in the storage closet. Why is it still there? Is it to prove to myself I can resist temptation?

I opened the closet and stared at it. And shut the closet.

Drank a huge glass of water.

Took Loona for a walk and looked at the trees a little bit more than usual. Listened to sad songs and I laid on the couch after as the sad songs continued and Loona laid down next to me and stayed there for the whole evening like she knew.

I eventually blanket-burritoed and ate and watched an animated movie and laughed. Then texted a friend and told them I had thought about drinking to which they responded, “omw home, will video call you in half an hour.”

When they called we talked, I cried, laughed more, things were put into perspective. I hung up and went to bed.

Sleep that night was disjointed, but when I got up in the morning I felt 100 pounds lighter.

The emotions had passed. The urge had passed.

I think we all have moments where it feels like everything’s closing in. That it’s too much to bear. That we’re alone.

In these moments, I know where my mind goes. I’ve watched it for long enough. And because of this, I also know that 99% of what it’s telling me isn’t true. I’m too zoomed in. I’m looking at a pixel instead of the whole screen. I’m staring at the bark of a tree instead of the whole forest. It tells me that these emotions are too much, and that I’ll always feel this way. Hit the eject button. Drink the drink down. Let the warmth burn away the worries, the troubles, the desires. Get the temporary reprieve, the immediate relief.

But I’m tired of immediate. Immediate is a lie. Everything takes time. The tradeoff for immediate relief is future depletion. It’s taking tomorrow’s happiness on loan with an interest I can’t afford to pay.

Whatever my mind was telling me I couldn’t handle seemed pretty straight-forward the next day. And the day after that. Seems like all my nervous system really craved was expression. Crying, laughing, connection - were all outputs I needed.

I love the Ram Dass quote, “You don’t need loneliness, because you are never alone.” I remind myself of it when I get too in my head about things. It makes me tell someone I’m struggling rather than listening to the voice that says that I’d be bothering them.

Patterns don’t scare me anymore. They don’t feel uncontrollable anymore. They can continue gathering dust in some storage closet, if only to remind me of where I used to be. I don’t regret that time in my life. I don’t regret being her. I’m happy with where we are now. I’m happy we’re not alone.

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