Afraid of Happiness

What am I afraid of? Happiness?

It’s interesting how when you start a new chapter in your life, whether it be a new job, a new home, a new relationship, you begin with the best intentions.
I’m going to avoid office romances.
I’m going to keep my bedroom clean and organized.
I’m going to keep my jealousy in check.
Whatever it is, you’re determined to do it now that you have a fresh start and for the first few weeks it actually works, you’re able to stick to it! Then you get comfortable and you slack off one day, then another, then you look for excuses not to do it. Then a week has gone by and you shrug your shoulders like,
Whatever, I’ve fucked up now, my chance is gone, there’s always next time. Right?

Well, life in the surf town was no different.

I thought, Hey, once I’m living in a house, with a job, I’ll fall into a routine: eat healthy, exercise, finally learn to surf, finally have some me time. At first, I was killing it. Then the hard realization hit me: I’ve lived here one month and besides Kennedy, I don’t have any actual friends, I have a shitty job where I make no money, and I can’t afford shit. I tried to carry on, knowing things could only get better, but soon I was drinking to pass the time (whilst trying to come out of my shell).  Soon after we invested in a $50 bag of weed and within a week, had almost smoked the entire thing, which of course, lead to the consumption of an entire block of chocolate, a box of candy and a bag of chips, to name a few. I gave up on running, I gave up on trying to improve my standard of life. I gave up on myself.

I got sad, really sad and began to feel hopeless and trapped. I desperately began searching for an exit route, anxious for another new beginning.

That’s when I recognized the patterns of self-depricating behaviour and it lead me to wonder: Am I trying to sabbotoge my own happiness? Or do I have an actual mental illness? Let me elaborate…

For all of my life I’ve had high highs and very deep lows. I can be ontop of the world one minute and down in the dumps the next. Nothing really has to happen to set me off. I can create a negative possible scenario in my head and then I’m sweating, treating it like an actual REAL problem (of course, these thoughts never materialize.) I cry at the drop of a pin. I wake up sometimes thinking, “Why even bother?” and then I wont, for days, weeks, until I decide with a sudden burst of enthusiasm that its not too late to turn it all around.

I have a very addictive personality. I can’t just have one beer, it’s got to be 6, or 10, and I can’t buy a bag of weed and ration it, I’m gonna smoke the entire thing in a couple days. I can’t just have one cigarette when I’m partying, it’s gotta be the whole pack. Whether it’s sex, food, drugs, whatever, for me, it’s always in excess. Moderation doesn’t exist in my world.

My mother and aunt have both been diagnosed as bi-polar. My aunt went to rehab for alcohol and is now a member of Overeaters Anonymous as well. My uncle almost lost everything because of his drug problem. I know this is a real devastating illness that could be affecting me, but I don’t know what to do about it, mental illness is still really hard to openly discuss. I know a counsellor is probably my best bet, but they’re expensive and the last thing I want is to ever be medicated. I would perfer to talk it out, perhaps seek some spiritual guidance, but the thought of diving into my past, of divulging those memories locked deep within… it freaks me out! I guess discussing my problems with a neutral, trained professional provide great release, but the idea is so terrifying.

As scary as it is, I need to find a way to stop the self deprication. It’s frustrating, I can see myself making the same mistakes, I know exactly where I’m going wrong, but it’s like I’m stuck in this endless loop of misery, to break free would take all my strength and focus, but its as if I can’t be bothered, which brings me to my second theory:
I want to deny myself happiness. It’s as if all those feeling inside, the lack of self-worth, the insecurities instilled in me by my father, by my classmates, by my ex-boyfriends, they’re all weighing me down. All those negative words, I’ve begun to believe them and now I seek to punish myself by telling myself I don’t deserve it.

I mentioned how I tend to seek out boyfriends and then fancy myself as stuck and just wallow in self pity and hope for a change.
Well in coming to New Zealand, I did the same thing. Kennedy and I share a room, we share a van, we share a life. I’ve begun to feel a little stir-crazy, my mind is pacing, desperately seeking an emergency exit.
Don’t get me wrong, I love NZ, I love Kennedy, I want to spend the year here. But things have gone off track and I’m desperately seeking another fresh start, I know I can’t run from myself and that’s the sad truth. I don’t want to lose sight of who I am again. I just found myself, I can’t lose her.

The rational part of myself is chiding me for never sticking with anything or following through. I have a lot of changes I need to make to escape these repetitious behaviours. It’s not going to be easy, but I think in order to be sane, I need to quit smoking weed. I don’t want to quit smoking weed, I love it and the way it makes me feel numb and let’s me zone out for a while. But after 2 months of not smoking, I can see how badly it slows me down, makes me unmotivated. I can’t smoke even a little without getting paranoid and insecure. I’ve tried making weed a “sometimes thing” but its no use. If I’ve got it I’ll smoke it, once I’m out I’ll seek out more by any means necessary. It’s going to be extremely difficult to quit, but sitting down and wiriting it out is a good way to deal with my emotions.

I guess we’ll see if I can’t turn this life around.


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