Fears and Hopes

“Sometimes we motivate ourselves by thinking of what we want to become. Sometimes we motivate ourselves by thinking about who we don’t ever want to be again.”

–Shane Niemeyer

Today I am sober after a month-long binge on bad habits and giving in to compulsiveness.

I really want, hope, and pray for a different year this time. And if I want things to be different, I need to act different.

Truth is, I am still unsure of what to make of last year. It's just as terrible as how great it was. 50/50.

I spent half of last year swearing off vices, determined to actually do something about it other than going around the cycle of self-blaming, self-pity, and self-loathing—which only results to more self-destructive behavior.

But just the same, I spent the other half of the year breaking every rule I've set for myself, not reaching out to my accountability partners, and just isolating myself from people who care about me when I find myself back in the hole of toxic thinking patterns and actions.

In fact, for the last month of 2016, I've lost all hope that I didn't even fight any temptation that came my way. Without hesitations, I dove right in them until I felt like I was drowning. I even clung on to them for a few more days after ushering 2017. (Hence today as day 1 of sobriety—from everything I struggle with.)

Sigh.

To be completely honest, I haven't had a full year of sobriety since I was 16.

Perhaps my longest streak was 3 to 4 months, if not 2. And I can't even remember when that was.

I am just tired of living a mediocre life because of my addictions. I'm tired of being mediocre—a mediocre advocate, a mediocre writer, a mediocre daughter, a mediocre sister, and a mediocre friend.

I don't care what anyone else says, it's impossible to live life to the fullest when you keep giving in to your demons. Eventually you get sucked in their lies and deception that they end up derailing you from your goals and dreams, while ridding you from all the progress you've made for yourself.

It is frustrating. I have so much passion in me to make a change, to create, to write, to build a community of body positivity—but it always fizzles out when my addictions get the best of me. When I don't try beating my demons hard enough and I end up letting them take me back to drugs, or porn, or drinking as a way of coping or a means of comfort.

I am sick of it. Not just of losing progress, but of going back to the same shitty things on purpose for self-confirmation, and then restarting again.

But like the paradox that is me, I am just as equally terrified of leaving it all behind—the comfort zones and that side of me that I'm still attached to, somehow.

I used drugs to escape the reality of things. When I'm angry and would rather be careless about everything, I smoke a joint. When I'm depressed and I wanna feel good about myself, I take a pill, whatever pill there is that could be of "help." When I'm happy and want to celebrate, I want to drink and get wasted. When I want a little bit of pleasure on times that I feel down, I watch porn and masturbate.

And it's not like I just do it every so often. I do it all the damn time once I give in. And when I'm in the moment of actually doing it, I don't just do it once, or twice, or thrice. I lose control to the point of doing it in big, unhealthy doses until I'm numb from everything else but self-hate.

This has been my cycle since I was 16, for crying out loud. That's what? 9 years of my life of constantly taking one step forward, only to fall two steps back. Over and over and over again.

It's about damn time I create a new life for myself—one that pushes me closer to the woman I want to become. A woman who is sincere and authentic with her relationships. A woman who is overflowing with the love of God that it spills to many others and ultimately influences other women for the good.

And it's about damn time I release all of my pent up anger, shame, and brokenness through writing, and not give a single fuck about what anyone else will think of me.

I still need to remind myself that I am doing this to heal. That I am doing this for myself, even if sometimes the voice of shame screams louder than the genuine desire to be set free from all this.

I don't wanna hide any part of me anymore.

I read somewhere that it's harder to change when you're in your '30s. Not impossible, but definitely much harder, since your brain almost cements your patterns of thinking and behavior by the time you reach this age. I'm turning 26 soon. I have 4 years left to reprogram my thoughts and replace bad habits with new, beneficial ones. I don't want to waste any more time.

Besides, I've done it all. I've tasted everything that piqued my curiosity and anything I can milk pleasure from. Booze. Drugs. Sex. I can honestly say there's not a single thing more I'd like to try, under the "fun and pleasurable but will wreck myself eventually" category.

This is the year I learn to be brave—not merely with emotions but with actions. To be brave means feeling afraid and doing it anyway. I want to be brave, because that's the only way I kill the self-destructive monster in me. The monster that's too much of a coward to face problems head on and scurries to the darkness with the slightest sting of pain.

This is the year I let my no's be a gain. I need to reframe my thinking that saying no isn't a bad thing. That sometimes, saying no to my addictions is the only way I can find my way to discovering who I really am—so I can say yes to better things.

This is the year I stick to this commitment. The year that I get into the habit of picking myself up with grace and love instead of beating myself up when I stumble.

After all, this whole journey is not about perfection, but progress. About doing what's necessary even if it scares the living shit outta you.

I'm gonna make it through 2017 sober even if it kills me. (So help me, God.)