The Selfishness of Now, and the Terrible Responsibility of ‘The Future’

James wrote to me on facebook, after reading about the blog and the selfish self-destruction that brought me here, and he quoted Bob Goddard, saying: “When all is lost, there is still the future.”

Life has long ago taught me that – as glib a saying as it is – it is always darkest before dawn, and just when it seems you’ve made a monumental cock-up of your life, and the only sound you hear is the closing of all the doors around you, it is only in prelude to the change in direction and the new adventure your life is about to embark on.

But what of the times when you’ve given up? When it seemed the darkness would never end, and hope was joke; pain and failure the only view, the only options left. Despair and regret, such wimpish cop-outs that we see in others, become such heavy chains on our own soul – became just these, on mine, in December, and I gave up, didn’t want to carry on.

And so I guess every storm cloud has its silver lining, and all those years spent in rave clubs swallowing pills like there was no tomorrow means, ironically, that there would be a tomorrow: 120 sleeping pills, down the gullet so I could end it all, end the selfishness, the depression, the embarrassment, the loss, the shame – and all I achieved was push myself further away from the people who loved me – who still love me, though only God knows why.

It gets to the point where there is nothing left; emotionally, to give and nothing left, emotionally, to take – I am drained, and I have drained from friends and family, all life, colour, love, and I stand here, mute, in the wrecakge, and cry, though no wracking sobs, so river of tears can wash away my conscience, the memory of the life I threw away, the friends I’ve hurt, the family I’ve spurned: I’m too spineless to end it any other way, and too addicted to fix it: I need help – I cannot do this by myself, I don’t even know how to start, for every move is towards the dealer, every thought is for more, every action the wrong one, all decision indecision, all of Dave is ruined, the man has become the monster, the addiction and the monster indistinguishable: I am no longer Dave, who takes crystal meth, I am a meth head with no name, no identity and no way out.

Dramatic? Undoubtedly. The truth? Painfully, this was my mindset, this was the Tannoy that terrorised me, looping its deprecations at me, in me, inside my mind, ceaselessly day and night, these past few months. Robbed me of myself, my life.

But not my future. No, that it couldn’t do. I’ve lost everything, but only the material things. It’s cost me time, but there is all the time in the world – all the way to the end of my life. It stole my identity, but left a blank slate, the foundation for a new life. And hope, and where there’s hope, they say, there’s life. Glib, quippy, warm and fuzzy, but at the same time, a happy burden, of this terrible responsibility to engage with the future, to dip my feet in its waters and feel the hope, to choose not to just lie here and be, but stand up, confess my sins, and live.

Thank you, James, for the thought-inspiring quote, and thank you all of you, for your support, and not giving up on me.

The future is now!

© healing.me 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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