4 minutes and 21 seconds of not having to feel shame

I've been ashamed since the day I came home from treatment and completely fell apart. But I can't live my life in shame; that's not living, it's hiding. And I'm not going to hide who I am, anymore.

I’m watching Cameo sing “Candy” on YouTube, and it’s making me cry.

I need the release; I’ve been holding onto some of these emotions for far too long, and I need to get it out so I can start to move forward with my life.

“Candy” is one of the songs I put on when my mind is out of sorts, and I wanna get pumped up. Something about the song, the lyrics, the music, the outfits, the beat, the expressions on everyone’s faces… somehow it manages to pull me out of my funk every time I watch it.

I wanna call it magic — because that’s what it feels like when my mood shifts so suddenly! — but sadly, I’m pretty sure it can all be explained in very dry, clinical terms, in modern science.

I’m still gonna act like it’s magic, though, because magic is way more fun…

I’ve been home for over a month now, and today is the first day I finally feel like doing something productive.

I wish I could gloss over the difficult parts.

The fear.

The anxiety.

The way I’ve been avoiding my responsibilities.

The fact that I came home from treatment, and temporarily fell apart.

The fact that I came home from treatment… and started drinking every day.

I’m tempted to hide that part from everybody, because why embarrass myself if I don’t have to?

But I am embarrassed.

And if I continue to hide it, it only increases the odds that I’ll go back to some kind of irresponsible, fearful, avoidant behavior… that may not be drinking… but will still interfere with my plans, goals, and dreams for my life, now that I’m (more or less) mentally stable.

I spent 59 days in a treatment center in San Antonio, learning how to get my mind right. And the day I got home from treatment, I started drinking.

I also started popping CBD gummies a couple times a day… and occasionally, taking an extra Trazadone in hopes that it would help me sleep longer.

(Occasionally, hoping I would fall asleep and not wake up, if I’m being completely honest.)

I don’t understand it. Treatment was a huge success! But I came home to more problems than I was anticipating, and I got overwhelmed, and I didn’t know what to do.

I crumbled on day one.

You see, I’m not a drinker. I used to be, back in the Navy, twenty-five years ago. But I gave it up when I got out, because I was afraid of what might happen if I didn’t. A couple of times here and there, I’ve had a few drinks, but the last time I did, I didn’t like it at all.

And yet, last month when I left treatment, it was the first thing I did as soon as I was safely back home in my apartment.

The second thing I did was to cut my arm. Fortunately, I only did that the one time, and then decided it’s too risky, and not something I want to continue.

The third thing I did was to lie down in bed, and cry myself to sleep.

I came home feeling like I was finally free from all my past trauma, and all the pent-up emotion I’d been holding inside since I was fifteen years old — and now I was afraid again, and I didn’t know what to do.

I spent the first three weeks home, getting drunk, getting stoned, or trying to sleep as many hours as I can in a day, or all three.

I finally quit drinking, and quit sleeping all day. I’m still getting stoned a couple times a week though, off CBD gummies. And I don’t like that… but I guess I like it better than being alone with all my fears.

See, even though I’m better, mentally, I still want to avoid pain.

And living life, in today’s society, is painful. It is frightening. It is overwhelming, and risky, and uncertain.

And I despise uncertainty.

I need to know that I’m going to get the outcome I want, or I will freeze up and get stuck in indecision… and I’ll stay in that place where avoiding responsibility for my decisions seems more appealing than making a choice… and finding out I chose wrong.

Even though I honestly am better than when I went into treatment — even though suicide is no longer the only thing I think about every day — I still don’t know how to handle painful emotions or events on my own.

And maybe I never will.

I can’t even watch “Candy” on YouTube, without getting emotionally overwhelmed.

And maybe, that’s the point.

Maybe I’m not supposed to handle it all on my own. I don’t know. I mean, that is the reason I sought treatment: because I knew I couldn’t stop myself from making another suicide attempt, without professional intervention.

I knew I needed help, in order to turn my mind around, and want to live…

And yet, I came home, and on day one, I thought I had to figure everything out now on my own… and I don’t know how to do that.

So, yeah, I crumbled. I got paralyzed. I felt crushed under the weight of not-knowing-ness… I felt like I know what I need to do to move forward… and yet… I’m powerless to actually take the next step.

I felt like if I made one wrong move, all the progress I’ve just made would collapse... and going to treatment will have been for nothing.

I’m not saying that’s necessarily true; but it is how I felt, in that moment when I decided what I really need to do is just drink, and not worry about my life at all.

I don’t really want to drink though. And, I don’t really want to avoid responsibility, either.

But I don’t want people to be disappointed in me, and if I make the wrong choice, they will be.

I don’t want to feel like a failure, and if I make the wrong choice, I will.

I don’t want to be ashamed of what happened — or how I chose to respond. But I came home, and I made the wrong choice.

I should know better than to drink, but in the face of this overwhelming helplessness… it seemed safer to drink, than not. (Believe me, I know what that sounds like.)

I think what’s really keeping me stuck here is shame.

I “should” know what three weeks of day drinking typically leads to.

I “should” have reached out before I took the second drink.

(I was gonna have that first one, regardless… but I really didn’t expect to keep drinking, day after day, and to want to keep drinking, day after day… I really believed it was going to be one and done.)

I “should” be smart enough not to start drinking in the first place.

Especially right after leaving a treatment center that deals with both mental health, and substance abuse.

I “should” know enough real alcoholics already, to know I don’t ever want to be one!

But the drinking isn’t the real problem.

The real problem is the challenges ahead of me, that I still don’t know if I’m equipped to handle.

You see, since coming home from treatment, I’ve known that I can’t go back to my old way of life. The old patterns of negative self-talk, doubt, withdrawal, isolation, self-harm…

No matter how much past trauma I’ve worked through… if I go back to those old negative patterns, it’s only a matter of time before I’m overwhelmed again, and facing the reality of another suicide attempt.

And I don’t want to die, anymore.

I want to live.

But living is scary.

Like… drive me to drink, scary.

I’m still terrified of my future! Even if I now believe it’s possible for me to have a good one.

I’m convinced that, now that I’m better… I somehow only get one chance to make the next right choice, and the next one after that, and so on and so on… and if I make one wrong choice, it’ll take away every chance for future success and happiness.

Not just the one chance that choice represents, but every chance, every day, for the rest of my life.

I’m convinced that once I make one wrong decision, it’s game over, and there’s no coming back now from the shame of it all.

And I don’t want to live in shame anymore.

I want to thrive. I want to build a lifestyle and a future that will give my life meaning, and give me purpose and direction (and hopefully, some happiness mixed in here and there).

I want to be alive.

But I still don’t want to be wrong. I’m terrified that other people are going to know I’m doing everything wrong.

I know I need help. But society tells me if I ask for help, I’ll bring shame on me and my family… and shame makes me want to be dead. To be invisible.

To disappear.

Shame has always kept me stuck in past moments and memories, torturing me for all the things I know I’ve done wrong, and that I know other people will judge me for. Shame haunted my thoughts for years… until the only way I could see out of it was suicide.

Shame tells me you’re not going to read my newsletter now, because I’ve just told you about things I’m doing wrong, and now you know that I make mistakes. And some of those mistakes feel downright catastrophic…

But some things help me to shake shame loose!

Like “Candy.” Even if it’s a temporary fix, at least today, I got 4 minutes and 21 seconds of not having to feel shame. Actually, I left YouTube on autoplay so I’ve been listening to 80s funk and R&B in the background for nearly 45 minutes now…

And it’s such a mood stabilizer for me. I’ve been unable to feel shame that whole time. The music magically makes my shame disappear!

It will come back, though.

I know it will come back.

It always does.

I feel like I don’t know how to handle shame, and fear, and anxiety.

And maybe I don’t.

Or maybe I learned, while I was in treatment, and my mind just hasn’t caught up yet.

Because if I was still a slave to my shame…

I wouldn’t be writing about it.

I wouldn’t be looking for ways to get out from under it.

I would be telling myself that, yes, of course, I deserve it… and if you only knew all the things I’ve done wrong in my life, you’d know I deserve it, too.

And I don’t deserve it.

I just don’t know — yet — how to address it head-on.

I don’t like feeling emotionally overwhelmed, frightened, confused, embarrassed, ashamed, uncertain… exposed…

But really, once I face those feelings, and allow them to just happen… without shame… without guilt… without judgment…

They actually don’t last that long.

I just don’t like going through it all.

But I don’t think there’s any other way for me to get the lifestyle I want.

I think when a person wants more out of life, I think they have to make new choices… and I think, by default, most of those choices are probably going to be wrong.

The worst thing I can do — if I want to get out of this mess, and live a life that’s worth living — is to avoid making choices because I’m afraid of doing it wrong.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that of course I’m going to do it wrong, at first.

I always do.

And that’s not anything to be ashamed of. It’s just something to recognize, and to learn how to deal with.

I am going to do things wrong — and that’s okay. That’s how I learn.

As long as I can learn from my wrong choices, I can, someday, make better ones… ones that are more in line with my values… my identity… my goals and dreams.

And someday… I can stop being ashamed, and just do whatever it is that I want to do… for no other reason than I want to do it.

And I don’t know about you…

But for me…

That is the definition of success: to do what I want to do, simply because I want to do it… and to be able to do it without shame, guilt, or judgment, from myself.

I feel like that would be worth living for.

I feel like that would be a real accomplishment.

And I feel like, as long as I’m willing to remain open and honest…

That kind of lifestyle is finally within my reach.