Hello ILP scum bags, what’s up?
I suppose you wanna hear about the results of my two month stint of only alcohol. No? Too bad! Here it is!
As usual, the lack of caffeine forced my body to pick up the slack a bit in terms of energy and alertness and I was able to get more work done without needing a nap. However, I still needed naps. The body will NEVER reach the equivalent of three cups of coffee in terms of energy and alertness all on its own. So though the improvement in energy and alertness was noticeable (as usual) it by no means got rid of my need for at least an hour nap in the middle of the afternoons.
I suppose part of the need for sleep might have to do with the booze–they do after all make you sleepy–but I’m not talking about days when I had been heavily drinking the night before. Then again, I’ve developed a bad habit of going out a couple nights a week to the local Moxie’s or Milestones across the street and having a couple glasses of wine and a shot of tequila. By no means did I get drunk or wake up with a hangover the next morning, but this means I can’t totally rule out the influence of alcohol on my energy and alertness levels. I do know that there were days when I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol the night before, and I’d had a good night sleep, yet I was still tired.
Then there’s the usual Fridays… Moxie’s downtown before I go home. I used to do this only every second Friday, but that was back when I had a full work day on Fridays. Full work days when it’s my weekend with the kids means no drinks after work on those Fridays. But since the beginning on 2016, I’ve been working at a place at which we get Friday afternoons off. So end of work Fridays means drinks at Moxie’s downtown at noon, then go home and be ready for the kids after they get out of school. At first, I kept the schedule of Friday drinks only on every second Friday (my weekends without the kids), but now it’s every Friday… not good for my wallet.
Then there’s the usual getting drunk on Fridays (weekend without my kids) or Saturdays (weekend with my kids) which continued even without the caffeine (I’d make Saturdays my caffeine days on weekends with the kids since it’s fun having the energy to engage with my kids… which of course, being the conditional alcoholic that I am, conditional on caffeine, would make Saturdays on weekends with the kids my getting drunk days… after the kids went to bed of course).
It didn’t used to be the case that I’d go out twice a week. It used to be that I’d go out only once a week, if that. Again, not good for my wallet. In fact, during the first few weeks of January, I really didn’t have the urge to drink at all. Moreover, I can honestly say that in the past couple months, I haven’t had the urge to buy booze at the liquor store. I mean, I’d be lying if I said it never happened, but it’s certainly became way less (like maybe twice in the past two months). So while Moxie’s/Milestones (and sometimes Jameson’s or Joey’s) has gone up, liquor stores have gone down (unfortunately it’s the more expensive venue that’s gone up).
Alcoholism seems to be a funny thing… it always seems to be conditional (at least in my case). I know caffeine fuels my alcoholism but I’m also finding that my desire to go out to Moxie’s/Milestones more often is fueled more by the good looking girls who work there. I love to flirt with them. I just don’t get that from a mickey of Jack Daniels. So my alcoholism seems to bootstrap itself onto my longing for love. I wish I could say that I’m completely not an alcoholic without the caffeine or the pretty girls at the local pubs but I’ve learned through these two month stints that if you allow yourself to partake of the booze even without these catalysts, your alcoholism (if you have it) can become unconditional.
All in all, though, I’m not worried. I know that by July 1 this year, I won’t have to worry about any of that. It will force me to become more responsible financially and also health-wise.
On a lighter note, there have been some positives. On a few occasions, drunk at the bar, I’ve found that I can be just as social without the caffeine as I can with. Caffeine makes me talkative, makes me extroverted, makes my brain more responsive in real time. But on a few occasions, I’ve found that all it takes is a bit of lowering of inhibitions (thanks to the booze) for me to get into that state and have intense stimulating discussions with the local drunkards. However, I think there’s still a difference. Someone once told me that caffeine is like a block you put behind the break peddle of your car… no matter how much you need to stop, you just can’t. I found that without the caffeine (and with the booze) I can step on the gas no problem, but I can also run out of steam real quickly. So whereas I can strike up a conversation and have witty things to say to people, I also slow down sometimes and have trouble thinking of appropriate responses or keeping on top of the conversation. IOW, the ability is there, I just can’t sustain it for as long. But knowing that the only thing holding me back is inhibitions is a comforting thought; it means it’s within my control and can be remedied by a bit of conditioning.
(This makes sense based on what they say of introverts… socializing drains us a lot more quickly than it does extroverts; but caffeine makes me extroverted; I also wonder for some extroverts… does socializing sometimes fuel their energy, exciting them as it were such as to feel like socializing even more?)
And the cannabinoids? Not much to report there. I guess there’s this: I feel spiritually dead inside without the psychedelics… like there’s a big fat nothing inside, and what’s left of me is an automaton, a mindless drone carrying on with his daily obligations, getting done what needs to be done, working through the daily grind… but no real life inside, no spark. In fact, it’s set in a bit of depression. I think this is hugely fueled by July 1 fast approaching. I’m asking myself: is this what it’s going to be like? A desert–just the dull grind of tired life, the banalities of the meaningless ordinary? The alcohol and the flirting alleviates this painless pain on the occasions when I go out, but even that I’m going to have to give up come July 1.
I have a bit of a delusion. I sometimes believe in a demon who accompanies me. During the past two months, that delusion just didn’t arise. When I do the psychedelics, that delusions comes alive. But more on this below.
Let’s see the chart so far:
This month was a big neutral… not really feeling any better than I usually do but not worse either. The only change was, predictably, life was more steady (and monotonous) than the ups and downs of my usual life of drugs and caffeine. The idea, therefore, is supposed to be that this is what life is like with only alcohol. You might compare this with the last stint I did in the summer of 2017 when I did only the cannabinoids. Those two months features at least a few days when I felt above average (in terms of energy and good feeling). You might draw the conclusion, therefore, that an alcohol only drug diet cause neutrality, dullness, whereas a cannabinoid only drug diet allows for the occasional above-average day. But common sense tells me there is no real link between the variables. If I could have said, after the two month stint in 2017, that I felt good and full of energy 90% of the time, that would be something else. It would be more reasonable to infer a correlation… but only three days out of the whole two months? Nothing can be gleaned from that.
(I also have to say that I was trying out the Atkins diet during the past 2 months, and that could be a confounding variable, but I doubt it… and yes, I understand the irony of consuming alcohol at my usual rate while on a diet that prohibits fast burning energy, but that’s a complicated (and irrelevant) matter.)
So anyway, we’re now in a position not only to draw some conclusions about what life is like on an alcohol only diet but on what I should do with my life now that all the results are in. And I don’t think there’s any question about it. I’ve already made my decision. I’m going to take at least a year off all drugs and alcohol, maybe two, and then make a final decision on what to do with the rest of my life. These past 5 years have worked out perfectly. It started out as an experiment; I wanted to determine for myself, with hands on experience, whether life is really better without the drugs than with. The irony is that, if you look back at the results, life is only slightly better. Not overwhelming. Yet slightly better is still better, so logically I should take it. Yet psychologically, I’m disappointed in the results. Slightly better sounds pitiful to me. And strictly speaking, I should really only be looking at the results of the first two stints since those were the only ones that did away with all drugs and alcohol. All the others were the results of specific combinations and I should be interpreting them as what life is like on those particular drugs only. Yet having gone through these experiences, I really feel that life is far too complicated, far too rife with confounding variables, to draw any kind of connection. The results of the spring of 2014, for example, were the most positive, but do I have a right to say that if I cut alcohol out of my life but stuck with the caffeine and cannabinoids, my life would be great? Probably not. Probably, these results are the consequence of unenumerable variables (and most likely a hell of a lot of bias and subjective interpretation). So what was the point? The point was to arrive at something like the decision I’m making now, and that happened.
This needs elaboration. There’s a psychological game that one can play on one’s self; I call it the migration of value. It’s based on the natural psychological phenomenon whereby one’s values “migrate” from one thing to another. One has attachments. One values those attachments. But sometimes attachments get compromised. One values one’s car, for example. One is therefore attached to it. But if that car breaks down and becomes unusable, then one’s attachment to it is compromised. One feels the pain of the loss. But then one can compensate for that by buying a new car. The new car is bought and one no longer feels the pain (except perhaps in one’s wallet). Once again, one feels secure knowing that one has a reliable mode of transportation, of getting from point A to point B, of being able to get things done and make ends meet, etc. In other words, one restores the security of one’s values by “migrating” those values from one attachment to another, from a compromised car to a new car.
We see the migration of value with abstract attachment as well. One values winning the argument. But if one finds that he or she cannot match the arguments of one’s contender, then one’s attachment to winning the argument is compromised. But what does one usually say? Maybe something like “Ok, you win, but you didn’t have to be so rude,” or perhaps “fair enough, but I still think I’m right on point A, B, and C.” In other words, one’s values migrate from winning the argument to getting an apology from one’s contender for being so rude, or to a concession on points A, B, and C.
Attachments to drugs and alcohol are no exception, except that since they are always readily available and easy to consume, they don’t typically get compromised. Instead, they are unhealthy attachments that one may admit to without being forced to find alternatives for. For this reason, one must not wait for something to occur which forces one to migrate his or her values (for example, what if alcohol suddenly became illegal), one must proactively invoke the migration of value upon one’s self. (This is typical of coming to an understanding of a phenomenon; when we understand a natural phenomenon, like electricity, we tend to proactively make it into technology, like electronics; understanding the natural phenomenon of the migration of value means that one can proactively use it on one’s self to effect change, to effect, that is to say, the migration away from unhealthy attachment to more healthy ones).
Here’s the formula for migrating away from unhealthy attachments to more healthy ones: for any undesired value attachment A, and any desired value attachment C, find a value attachment B that is compatible with both. Migrate as much value as you can away from A and to B. Once all or most of your attachment has been migrated, repeat the migration away from B and to C. This may be done for any number of migrations–for example, from A to B to C to D to E, etc. The principle upon which this works is that migrations from one value to another are much easier when those values are compatible, or when you value both, than when they are not.
Let’s take attitudes as an example. Supposed you had a bad habit of nursing a negative attitude towards everything, but you also knew that this was unhealthy and you should really practice being more positive. You know this from seeing the effects in others who are more positive, how they are happier, how they seem to lead healthier lives, how people just like being around them more, but you just feel stupid being positive yourself, you feel like a dork, like you’re just lying to yourself. So you’re blocked; you want to go from here to there but the two seem utterly incompatible. You can’t just make a switch over night. What does the formula for the migration of value prescribe? It prescribes that you find a middle attitude, one that is compatible with both your negative attitude and the positive one you hope to acquire. How 'bout realism? It seems to be a general trend among pessimists and others with negative attitudes that they prefer to be called “realists” rather than pessimists. So be it. You’re a realist. But that means you value realism. That means that realism, for you, is compatible with pessimism. It also so happens to be compatible with optimism. And why not? To be realistic is to be okay with admitting that sometimes positive outcomes happen, that the world isn’t always bad. Or at least that if a positive outcome occurs, admitting that it’s positive is still to be realistic. What you do then is put some mental effort into focusing on realism rather than pessimism. The principle here is that since you already value realism, this should be far easier and smoother a transition than that from pessimism to optimism. So you make the migration. With practice and commitment, thinking with a realist attitude eventually becomes second nature, conditioned as it were, and then you are ready to make the move from realism to optimism. You repeat the process: you put mental effort into focusing on optimism rather than realism. Your prior pessimism no longer gets in the way because you’ve already migrated away from it and essentially detached yourself from it, drained it of any power to keep you in its grips. That’s how it’s done.
In my case, drugs are the unhealthy attachment, sobriety is the healthy one, and these 2 month stints over the past 5 years are the middle one that’s compatible with both. In the beginning, I was a proponent of drugs. I believed in one’s right to explore alternate states of consciousness. It was a form of spirituality for me, and still is. For me, doing drugs to explore foreign experiences was like a scientist conducting experiments or like a Christian going to church. It is their right according to their beliefs. And I still believe this (that’s the beauty of the migration of values; values don’t always have to be compromised). It was therefore difficult for me to come to grips with the adverse effects of drugs, the possibility that they were doing more harm to me than good. It was the fact that I had to admit to myself that, at some point along the way, I wasn’t really doing them to explore alternate states of consciousness anymore, but just for a buzz on a boring Friday night. This, now that I think about it, was the first step in migrating away from the drugs. That I was hooked to the buzz didn’t have to count as a compromise of my values. It was compatible. Yet, it wasn’t enough to decide right then and there to quit. For that, I needed real hands on experiences with sobriety. I value real experiences. I thought, therefore, that if I can prove to myself that life is indeed better without the drugs than with, I would be OK with giving them up. That’s when the next step in the migration stood before me. But what this means is that neither these experiments nor the results were ever the ultimate goal; they were only a means to a goal: valuing sobriety. This is why it doesn’t matter how disappointed I am in the results–I now want sobriety–I want it regardless of the results. It took five long years to get here, five long years to convince myself to be OK with giving up the drugs, convincing myself through a psychological trick, but it worked. Not: it’s going to work, it did work. I am now looking forward to July 1 2018, proud to say I’m going to be drug free.
Yet I’m depressed, right? I did say above, didn’t I, that I look forward to it with a heavy heart? That the prospect of walking through a desert of spiritual death is something I dread? Yes I did say this, but this is not because my values are compromised. It’s just the hard work that I know is in store for me. The problem with addiction is that we are animals. Animals seek immediate gratification–hedonism–and act in accordance with their impulses and their environmental conditioning. So even while I value sobriety, I know I will miss the rush and the euphoria of the drugs, and I know I will have to endure deprivation and depression. I need this momentum, this conviction to my new values, in order to make it through. I am human; I am an animal but I am human. I have an animal self but also a higher self unique to my humanity. The higher self of human beings is the part of us which strives for higher things, which reaches beyond immediate gratification, which can effect its will against impulse and environmental conditioning. My higher self has placed his values at odds with his visceral desires and cravings so as to overcome them. It shouldn’t be a surprise that this will hurt, that even now I am depressed. That’s what it takes, after all. The point is this: five years ago, if I had looked across this desert, straight to the horizon, I would have said: no way, man. Now I am not saying this.
Yet it’s not quite the same as a commitment to give up drugs and alcohol all together, is it? I’ve been saying, “at least a year, probably two.” ← Is that a commitment to quit drugs and alcohol? Or just an extended 2 month stint? What I’ve done here is give myself one more intermediate step in the migration of my values. The results of these 2 month stints have not only been disappointing, but they have been based on things I don’t even feel (hedonistically, at least). For example, much of what goes into saying that the results of this or that stint are positive are things like: I save money (alcohol is hella expensive), I will be a better roll model for my children, I will get more work done, be more focused on my career. These aren’t “feel good” benefits. They’re more like “be good” benefits… things I have to remind myself of because I don’t just feel it like a immediate buzz. What this means is that the animal side of myself, which only knows immediate gratification, that is feeling good, dreads the prospect of walking through the desert of self-deprivation and spiritual meaningless even though I know it will make me a better person. Because of this, I, at a certain point in my journey, had to decide on a compromise: rather than making that fatal decision to give up all drugs and alcohol, do one more extremely long stint. Yet his is more than just another stint in my mind; it is an opportunity to find real substitutes for the drugs. I don’t think one can find substitutes for drugs in only two months. One needs at least a year. My hope is that through all the things I intend to try, something will give me that hands on experience that I desperately want, the hands on experience which is more than “slightly positive”, which is a real contender to the euphoria of the drugs.
What are the things I intend to do with my year, probably two, away from drugs and alcohol? How do I intend to replace them?
-
Therapy
-
Take a Dale Carnegie course
-
Get a tattoo
-
Take acting classes
-
Talk to WendyDarling about astral projections
-
Talk to my good friend Rita about other forms of spirituality
-
Get exorcised
Let’s go through these one by one, shall we?
-
Therapy: I’m going to walk into the doctor’s office and say: help me be awesome. There are other ways of saying this:
- Help me become extroverted, not introverted.
- Help me become fit to run a business.
- Help me to influence people rather than be influenced.
- Help me to become more energetic.
All things which the drugs helped me do–at least the caffeine and alcohol–but I want to learn how to do this without a crutch. I’m hoping a therapist can help. I intend to take the attitude that there’s nothing wrong with me–and indeed I think I will be able to say that with full confidence and conviction on July 1–but that I want to become better anyway (to be fucking awesome!). I want to be better than OK. The drugs made me feel like a super star, like a god. I want to be able to churn that out with the power of my own mind.
-
Take a Dale Carnegie course: I took the Dale Carnegie course when I was 14 (my dad thought it would help given the problems I was having at school). I was too young at the time to realize how I was supposed to apply the lessons they taught me, but I’m 41 now and very capable of applying these principles. Back then, I sort of expected things to happen automatically, as though the Dale Carnegie coaches were gonna make me more sociable, that I just had to let them do the work. Now I see it like a tool. Like therapy, I mean to use it with intent–that is, like a tool which does nothing by itself, I intend to use it proactively, to purposefully apply the lessons they teach to actual life.
-
Get a tattoo: This one here:
This is a drawing a made a while back. I call it “Transition”–perfect for what I’m going through. I intend to get this branded on my upper back as a symbol of my salvation, of being set free from my demon. ← That’s a whole other story which I won’t get into, but suffice it to say, the drugs definitely keep my demon alive, like feeding a leach with what you consume for yourself. Starve yourself and you starve the leach. Yet my hope is that Gaseous (that’s his name) is also set free by this act. I will consider the act of tattooing myself a kind of self-induced exorcism. My hope is that he will stand trial before God and he will be judged on the good acts he has performed in teaching me his wisdom the last 20 years, that his parole will have proven worthwhile, and that he will be forgiven–an exorcism for us both, so to speak–and that, now with freedom, he will chose to revisit me, and maybe because of that, continue to fuel me with the magic he has so far imparted to me. ← That would be another way to replace the drugs.
On a more practical note (to come back down to Earth ), the tattoo will symbolize my commitment to abstain from drugs and alcohol, not only out of a desire to express myself with body art, but as another psychological trick. I mean, if you really want to stick to a commitment, what better way than to permanently brand yourself? It’s the equivalent of tattooing onto your forehead: “I promise never to do drugs again.” ← You can’t just go back on that.
(As an aside, I also think I deserve it. I’ve always been reluctant to the idea of getting a tattoo because, well, that’s for tough guys, or maybe cool guys who ride motorbikes; but I had an epiphany: why do you care if you’re a touch guy or not? Why not get a tattoo because you earned it? Why not because you did something that is worth a tattoo, something like giving up drugs and alcohol?)
- Take acting classes: Now this one’s a rather new ambition. I thought to myself one day: how are you going to be confident enough to socialize with people and to flirt with girls without your liquid courage? Well, why not just pretend to be a guy who’s confident enough to socialize and flirt with girls? Play a roll, act a part. If you feel like it’s lying, then be okay with lying. I even thought this: if you want a substitute for drugs, see how far you can get with acting like you’re on drugs. I could go to the bar stone cold sober and just walk around talking to people like a stumbling drunk. If you had the acting skills, you could probably pull this off. Then you could socialize and talk to girls just like you did in the good old days… huh? Am I right? Huh?
And with any luck, the placebo effect might come into play… actually making you feel drunk (or high, or stoned, or whatever).
And this could be used in all sort of life’s facets… being a good salesman for example. If you don’t think you’re smooth enough, or influential enough, or persuasive enough… try acting like someone who is… see how far you get.
- Talk to WendyDarling about astral projections: this speaks for itself I think. Astral projections would be the perfect substitute for drugs, and WendyDarling can attest to their reality. She’s had them before and might be able to instruct me on how to induce one for myself. No pressure Wendy, but I’m coming for you after July 1 . We’ve talked about this before and she knows I’m eager to learn from her once I get off the drugs. And spiritual experiences in general would be an incredibly fitting substitute for the drugs–doesn’t have to be astral projections–I mean, if you had the ability to astral project, or talk to spirits, or gain a psychic ability, or to perform magic… wouldn’t you give up an addiction to have it?
And what if this is just a bunch of nonsense, mumbo-jumbo, new aged bull shit? What if it is? I’d still be willing to settle just for the experience thereof. I mean, suppose that the experience of astral projection wasn’t really your soul leaving your body and blasting through the cosmos FTL, what if it was just a psychedelic experience, a hallucination, an alternate state of consciousness that was happening only in my brain?.. well gee, how could that possibly count as a substitute for drugs? And what if there is no such experience? What if, after a year or more of trying, I can’t astral project any more than I can now? Well, hopefully, given that year or more, I will have bought enough time to experience the benefits of sobriety, enough so that I will still be able to say it’s worth staying sober. IOW, maybe the migration of value can still happen–migrating away from a compromised value (astral projection) and towards an uncompromised value (the benefits of being sober for a year or more).
-
Talk to my good friend Rita about other forms of spirituality: Now Rita isn’t her real name; to protect her identity, I will not reveal her real name. But she knows a lot about spirituality; she’s much like Wendy in my eyes. So essentially, she might be able to serve the same purpose that Wendy might. The power of two spiritualist is better than one. And I can actually meet up with Rita whereas my contact with Wendy is limited to PMs.
-
Get exorcised: speaks for itself… I think I need an exorcism. Hoping Wendy can help, maybe Rita too. If not, maybe they can recommend someone. If not, hoping the tattoo will do the trick. If not, oh well, it’s a delusion anyway.
These are the things I hope to accomplish on my year, probably more, off the drugs and the alcohol. These are the things which I hope will help me find a substitute for the drugs and therefore help me fully accept a completely sober life. Now why do I always say: a year, maybe more? Well, the formal decision to migrate from the compromised 2 month stints to the full year was one according to which I thought 1 full year was a good round figure, a reasonable amount of time to accomplish the things set out above. However, for me this is about more than quitting the drugs; it’s about detachment from unhealthy values. What this means is that there’s more than just the drugs I wish to detach myself from. Actually, there’s one other thing: my book. If you click on the link “My Thoughts” in my sig, you will be taken to my website where I am trying (without much success) to sell my book The Nuts and Bolts of Consciousness. ← This is an unhealthy attachment. Why? You might ask. How can writing a book, or selling one, be an unhealthy attachment? Well, I don’t think it’s unhealthy in general, but this one in particular is for me. I’ve been obsessed with my theory of consciousness since, oh, shortly after I got hooked on drugs. The unhealthy aspect of it is that it distracts me from the more important things in my life–my career, my children, girls–it eats up my time with little return. I’m way better off spending my creative energies elsewhere. Yet, like the drugs, I can’t just “give it up”–not over night–but what I can do is finish it–volumes II and III that is–upload them to my site, maybe make some kendle copies, and then let it go. But there’s no way this will ever be done before July 1. I’m thinking I need at least a year after July 1 2018 to get all that done. What this means is that the real period of detachment from unhealthy values will begin only after I am done with my books, and it is then when I plan to spend a full year being free from unhealthy attachments. So it’s definitely going to be at least a year of complete sobriety, but most likely more.
It’s weird though… though I intend to spend at least a year free from unhealthy attachments, this most likely will not be like the Buddhist monk who frees himself from worldly attachments, he who spends his time in quiet solitude, cultivating a tranquil mind and a stress-free life. No, no, no, quite the opposite for me. I intend to spend my time away from drugs and alcohol, away from obsessing over my book, building up my business. I have a software business that dormant at the moment and I intend to pick it up again sometime in 2018, and hopefully over the course of the next 2 years or so, make it into a small business. Retreating to a Buddhist monistary, or spending your days meditating in silence for hours, is not how that’s done. I plan to be busy, busy, busy–probably quite stress out–and I can’t afford to let drugs and alcohol, or attachments to deadly money pits, hold me back. Detaching myself from these unhealthy attachments will put me in the best position possible to accomplish my career goals. And yet, the Buddhist aspiration of attaining inner peace through lack of attachments is still one of my fundamental goals. How can this be so? Wouldn’t the stress of being bogged down with overwhelming work and the stress of keeping a fledgeling business afloat do precisely the opposite for me? Maybe to the animal self within me, but not the higher self. Stress is certainly something an animal can feel, but it’s the art of managing one’s attachment which is key. ← That’s something only the higher self can weild. It’s like this: attachments are not just addictions forged by hedonistic forces, they are commitments–or rather, excuses–they are the self refusing to give them up. The key is to not commit. I will persue my ambitions to start a small business, but I promise myself never to say: I can’t give this up. I will always allow myself the option of migrating my values to something which, if deemed more healthy or a better, more reasonable option, keeps me getting stuck to that which is not good for me. In other words, it’s really a very simple trick: just don’t ever commit. I can persue a career as the owner of a small software company, working the long hours, working through the stress, but as long as I don’t lock myself in psychologically, I think I can preserve that freedom of mind which is the staple of the Buddhist way of life. The key is this: always, always, always allow yourself an out. ← Preserve that as one of your highest values.
That being said, however, I’m ultimately driven by something I absolutely will not detach myself from: my daughter. The whole reason I want to start a small business is so that I can make the kind of income required to support my daughter. My goal is to gain custody of her, at least shared custody with my X, but that requires money. And when it comes down to it, I’d prefer to have custody of both my children–my daughter and her younger brother–but I know my son is better off with his mother (he’s a mama’s boy ). My daughter, every time I ask her, says she’d prefer to live with me. And so I’m determined to make that happen, but I need the money. There are healthy attachments, and there are unhealthy attachments, and then there are attachments which I simply will not let go of. The Buddhist monk who retreats to a monistary in order to detach himself of the fleshly desires of the material world isn’t morally obligated to do so. Buddhism isn’t a moral religion. It promises a path towards peace and ultimately enlightment. But it does not say: though shalt. It says only: it’s there if you want it, and this is the way. What this means, however, is that a descrepancy can be drawn between what one can do to achieve the ultimate Buddhist goal and what one ought to do. The choices that the Buddhist monk makes are not always moral. To truly detach himself from all worldy pleasures and attachments, to seclude himself from the world, he must give up his attachment to his family and loved ones. If he has a family–a wife, a child–he must abandon them. And I ask myself: is that right? I mean, sure, if he detaches himself from the bonds of family, he may be free of any hardship or worry that such attachments sometimes cause, but has he done his family right? Has he done what’s moral? I don’t think so. This is why, out of all the attachments which are holding me back from being truly free, I will not give up my attachment to my daughter. It just wouldn’t be right. And this, in turn, drives me on to achieve building a small business and financial enhancement. But I still believe in allowing myself to detach myself from that goal, that value, if one day it seems practically sound to do so–it’s just that it cannot compromise my attachment to my daughter. If, for example, rather than achieve success as the owner of a small business, I won the lottery… well that would certain suffice to support gaining custody of my daughter, and so long as I haven’t formed an attachment to my business for it’s own sake (committing to it for its own inherent value, in other words, which is what addictions or based on), then I should be able to let it go for the sake of a higher goal, that being gaining custody of my daughter.
But in any case, building a small business would certainly count as yet another reason to stay off the drugs and alcohol. I think if I achieve that, not only will it mean I absolutely cannot return to being a druggie (I think that would spell absolute disaster for the owner of a business), but it might even fulfill me in just the right way that drugs did.
I’m not there yet, however, and all this is highly uncertain. I don’t have a crystal ball. I have no idea what the future holds for me. This is why I’m still treating this like an experiment. As a formality, I am telling myself: at least a year, probably two, and I reserve the right, after that time, to choose to go back into the drugs. If the results of this experiment prove that life just isn’t the same without the drugs and alcohol–one or probably two years worth of sobriety, which is more than ample–then I’d be an idiot to have locked myself into a commitment of this sort, a commitment to stewing in misery. I have yet to really acquire the experience of being happy, of being fulfilled, without the crutchs of drugs and alcohol, and at this point, it remains uncertain whether any of the forgoing is possible, let alone affective. Therefore, I’m thinking of this year, probably two, as much like the American Constitution–to be respected as a set of laws that government and citizens alike are obliged to observe, but also open ended and subject to amendment–life is too precarious and uncertain to lock something like this down permanently; it must be allowed to change if necessary. I think it will be enough, however, to achieve the main goal. That being said, I’m pretty sure that come July 1, I’ll be done with alcohol and caffeine forever. I’ve come to grips with the fact that these are no good for me. The cannabinoids and other drugs, however, I might consider going back on them after the fully year, probably more, is up. I know the trick to avoiding addictions now, so I’m not worried that I will fall back into addiction. And quite frankly, I still believe in one’s right to explore alternate states of consciousness–it’s just that this time around, I will have to explore new drugs that are, well, new. If the drug is tried again, and again, and again… well, chances are I’ve grown to enjoy the buzz rather than exploring the novelty of an altered state of consciousness. I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with the tattoo and what it represents, but I already know the answer to that: it represents my self-induced exorcism, and unless I fall back into addiction, I think the spirit of it will remain true. ← But therein lies the dangers of self-deception… this is why I really have to see what can be made of life without the drugs and alcohol, and prove to myself that after a year, probably more, of feeling truly happy and fulfilled, of feeling that this is better than anything I could have imagined, I’d have to be utterly stupid to risk losing it all by returning to the drugs, my right to explore or otherwise be damned.
To wrap this up, then, I would like to say this: one thing I’ve noticed is that whenever these two month stints involve abstaining from caffeine, I have absolutely no desire to come here to ILP. Caffeine makes me chatty, it makes me want to talk, to write, to socialize. Coming to ILP is what I like to do when I’m caffeinated. Actually, that’s not quite true. I also come here at least once a day to either: 1) check if there are any responses to the things I wrote, or 2) working no my projects (Which at the moment only consist of my Rick and Morty thread). But chances are, after July 1, you won’t be seeing much more of me. I’ll still be here, hanging around, but it will probably be rare that I ever participate in discussions. I’ll be more like ghost. It will be as if I wasn’t even here. For this reason, I feel like being an ass. I think I’ll spend the next 4 months being an asshole to each and every one of you here at ILP. I don’t much like you guys anyway. There’s only a small smattering of people who I like here (I’ll PM you guys after July 1 to let you know). But for the rest of y’all, you guys are scum bags… the scum of ILP. You guys are frickin’… well… I won’t get into that.