Just a quick one; This is probably the first and last time I’ll put a trigger warning on one of these posts; and I’m not oblivious to the fact that this is incredibly off-piste for the nature and topic of this blog; those of you old enough will be able to sense the ghost of my early and cringy 2010s Tumblr–despite this, it’s a personally significant, and possibly useful story of what happens when it all goes wrong. There will be talks about depression, suicide, self-medication and so-fourth throughout. So, with that said, you’ve been warned.
For a while, my life was moving at breakneck speed, and in no particular direction – until it hit a brick wall. It was a long time coming; I’d been warned and failed to act in my own best interest. I was drowning my sorrows seven days a week, feeling all too sorry for myself, and using clubbing, drinking, and whatnot as a way to escape the stress and pressures of prior ‘trauma’ (I hate calling it that), as well as recent personal events, and everyday life. Nights blurred together, then weeks, then months, and I was unable to remember anything from the night before. It was never going to end well.
After what one might describe as a mental breakdown, and one hell of a car crash that I was incredibly lucky to survive, let alone walk away from, I knew it was time to do something before I lost my mind completely, or my life.
Screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place.”
– John, The Breakfast Club
If I’m totally honest, I’m not sure I was initially very happy I was still here. Things had gotten bad. Even now, I’m not entirely convinced I deserved to walk away.
When Brandon Novak was recovering from a serious drug addiction, he said this;
I’ve been shooting heroin to forget about all my problems, so not only am I overcoming the biggest fight of it all -which is quitting heroin- then I have to deal with all the problems that I’ve been avoiding and putting off by getting high for six years.
My situation was obviously (and thankfully) nowhere near as extreme, but the sentiment resonated with me deeply. I realised I had started using something I loved, this party lifestyle, as a similar ‘drug’ to avoid thinking about and confronting my issues. Those who know me may have recognised a rather dark thousand yard stare into the void as I sat in VIP, or a significant lack of participation or interactions. It had become an oddly fitting place for pathological rumination. I went more, drank more, but it wasn’t working anymore. I would spend days awake, out every night, often without eating. At one point I think I spent three or four days awake until I was hallucinating. I’d go out all night, come back in time for the day job, then go back out after a quick shower and change of clothes.
I was killing myself in slow-motion.
“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”
– Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
So, I made a decision that felt both scary and necessary: I disappeared; from the scene, Cambridge, and people outside my support network for six weeks.
I’ll be clear, while I didn’t drink or go out all but once during this time, apart from a short lived party in Skiathos, it wasn’t a breakup with parting and late-night culture, or indeed responsible drinking, I stayed very much involved with NLC and planning the Momentum rebrand and Freshers week. After all, Clubbing is a cornerstone of UK Culture. This was however a breakup with abusing it, as a way of numbing some pain. Moderation, balance, and self-care had been hurled out the window before, and it was time to let it back through the door. I had a debt to pay to myself that had be accruing interest for months, even years. Letting go for a while became an obvious choice.
So that was it, no more nights spent in packed-out clubs, no more abusing alcohol (or anything else for that matter) as a temporary fix. I stepped away from it all, it was time I faced my internalised problems head-on instead of running from them.
Here’s what my time away taught me.
