You and me

Have a disease

You affect me, you infect me

I’m afflicted, you’re addicted

You and me, you and me

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about addiction lately.  It seems I am being reminded of it constantly.  This weekend, one of my favorite artists, Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse, shot himself in the heart.  He dealt with alcohol and substance abuse for his entire career.  Today, I read that actor Corey Haim has died of an apparent drug overdose.  And last night, I finished reading A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, which is a memoir by a man who overcame his addictions to crack, alcohol, glue, gasoline, and pretty much every other kind of narcotic apart from marijuana without using the 12 Step Program.  If you remember, this book was controversial because it came out that quite a few details had been embellished upon, but personally, I didn’t care.  What matters to me is that someone had a problem, a serious problem, and he was able to beat it.  He got better.  I don’t care if every other detail was imagined or true.

I also find myself really getting into watching Intervention on A&E.  I am fascinated by these people, people who start out with a harmless little drink here or party there and wind up completely destroying their life and the lives around them.  I am fascinated by their family members who enable them despite being constantly hurt by them, thinking they are helping them.  I’m fascinated by the opportunity of redemption.  Their stories have a way of getting to me more than other types of sob stories, and I’m not really sure why.  I don’t suffer from addiction, and I don’t really know anyone who has.  I had one friend who might have, but sadly, he died before anyone could really find out.  I knew another woman who was severely mentally disturbed and struggled with substance abuse, but her death was more of a relief to most of the people around her.  But the people on television, I find myself caring for deeply.  I remember watching an episode on a guy named Lawrence a couple of years ago.  Lawrence was an alcoholic, but he didn’t think so.  He was young and well-liked, handsome and successful.  And in the end, instead of getting better, he died.  It really seemed like it was going to end on a hopeful note, and it didn’t.  I cried for a whole day.  My heart still hurts for Lawrence and his family.

I think that artsy-types are predisposed to addictive behavior.  The next book on my list that I’ve started reading is On the Road by Jack Kerouac.  Kerouac: died of alcoholism.  How many writers, artists, and musicians wind up dying by way of alcoholism, drug overdose, or suicide?  When I joined the Facebook group on AvPD, something I struggle with, I observed that almost everyone in that group was either a writer or an artist.  Almost every single person.  I can understand this, because I struggle with it.  You don’t know what to say, you can’t find the courage to say things out loud.  So you write them down.  Real life doesn’t have a backspace button.  The keyboard does.  Pencils have erasers.  You can’t erase something that’s been said audibly.  You’re good at grammar because you’re afraid you’ll be made fun of if you aren’t.  So, being a writer kind of comes naturally.

I’m guessing with other personality disorders, there are things predisposing people to different types of professions.  To be disturbed is to be creative.  They go together.  So I guess, in a way, I worry that since I’m kind of an artsy-type, am flawed, and am socially stunted, I might be at risk.  Sometimes, life goes your way.  But then the other half takes over.  Life gets to be too much to bear.  Life sucks, and it’s hard.  You look for something to take the pain away.  You could deal with it, or you could erase it.  The more you put it off and try to mask it, the worse everything will get, and death will come sooner.  Personally, I feel like this sometimes, and I will go and maybe drink a little and get silly and feel better.  Then the next day I feel crappy because I drank, but I will feel better overall about my problem and won’t feel like doing it again for awhile.  Other people just don’t have that off-switch, I suppose.  For me, when I really need to escape, I don’t need drugs or alcohol.  I need books, music, or television.  I need to get away from my life and enter someone else’s world.  I’m not physically destroying my body this way (except for the fact that I could probably be exercising instead), but it’s still an escape.  A vacation from life in the comfort of my own home. 

If we really look at ourselves, do we really all have darkness inside and vices that are used?  Is there a little James Frey, Mark Linkous, and Corey Haim in all of us?  I am starting to think there might be, and that’s why these people touch my heart so deeply.  But as Frey observed in his memoir, how you go about handling things has to be a decision that you make.  You have to make a decision each and every time: I am going to deal with this.  I am not going to opt for this chemical enhancer, despite the escape it provides.  Get on it, get over it, and get away from it.  That’s the way to handle problems, in my opinion.  And if you use something and it gets to the point that you can no longer function in the “real world”, then you need to get away from it, and don’t ever touch it again.  It’s hard, but it’s possible.  I am convinced that anyone can be redeemed, truly redeemed, if they want to be.  They have to be.

The National Alcohol and Substance Abuse Drug Addiction Help and Information Center

Lyrics: “Infected” by Bad Religion

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