Prologue
Coping. It's a word I've never really understood until recently. The Google definition of the verb 'to cope' is to deal effectively with something difficult. I beg to differ. In my short experience of coping, I do not feel like I am dealing 'effectively' with anything. The truth is, there are so many types of coping mechanisms out there: aggression, sex, drugs, and denial, self-blame. I wouldn't call any of those methods 'effective'. More like destructive. But when you're at breaking point, using anything, anything at all, to help ease the pain, to give you a reason to hang on in there, is better than nothing.
For me, I have used substance and alcohol abuse to deal with my pain. Of course, every morning when I wake up next to the toilet, experiencing an incredible hangover, I regret it. But the numbness creeps back in throughout the day, and it starts all over again. It's like as soon as I start to lose my feelings, I need something to wake me up out of the spell, and a couple of lines of coke with a few shots of tequila do the job.
This never-ending cycle of barely coping seems to be my life now, and I hate it, I hate all of it. Because with this cycle comes the loss of friends and family, the loss of respect from others and for yourself, and worst of all, is the loss of hope.
I guess that all of this 'unconventional behaviour' as my parents like to put it, is the reason I'm standing outside of a therapist's building with a banging headache and a Starbuck's at 9.00 on a Saturday morning.