Regrets, Release and Forgiveness

When I was younger my mind entertained big dreams of becoming a doctor, a microbiologist, a musician in a symphony, a famous author, a world renowned artist. Unfortunately, the dreams of youth often are interrupted by life’s circumstances.

Good intentions often don’t translate into productive actions. Life sometimes has other plans.

I became a college student at 21, a drug addict by 23, and a raging drunk shortly thereafter. I call them my lost years.

There’s an old saying that goes “while some doors close other doors open.” In the midst of all these revolving doors I must’ve gotten stuck, it appeared during those years all my golden opportunities were lost.

Of course I’d rather tell you about all my successes in life and how prosperous it turned out to be, but that would be lying. People are good with happy positive stories not so much with the hard truths and the scars from just living life. You can’t always live life as if it’s a detailed perfect plan, unexpected shit happens.

Not long ago I wrote a post about being depressed called Darkness Inside Me: When “Kindling” Becomes a Flame and it made a few bucks.

I want to write about what I love and what I know. Having depression is a big part of my life, so it needs to get written. Maybe, just maybe it will help someone who is struggling in their own life.

I don’t need to go over my official DSM diagnosis in detail, suffice it to say I periodically suffer with depression. It’s a wonder I’ve not time in jail or gotten a DUI, for that I’m grateful.

Getting off drugs and alcohol were imperative for my recovery. Drugs were much easier to leave behind, alcohol was much more difficult. Cigarettes were absolutely the most difficult! My last crutch...gone.

I was sober for years and slipped twice since my first go at sobriety. I attended AA meetings often, I was never really able to share openly and honestly in a group setting. I did listen and learn.

Sitting in those meetings helped me not to drink for long periods of time putting some distance between myself and the bottle. It also helped me identify with others and loose the ,”Wait but I am unique” syndrome. Slowly I learned to deal with life on life’s terms and got brutally honest with myself. It’s not a overnight revelation, it’s a long painful process.

It’s a chicken and egg quandary, which came first? Depression or Addiction?

I honestly don’t know. Its my opinion that in my case the depression began during my teenage years- the drugs and drinking were a matter of self medicating, trying to feel normal or to escape the chattering in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough.

Am I regretful, sure. All the people who got hurt by my actions, the missed opportunities, being self destructive, the time spent dwelling in the past trying to be someone I’m not. It’s like running from yourself...but to where?