Diagnosed depressive, I view my rage as my spirit fighting to keep me alive.
About two years ago, I resumed smoking marijuana to help me sleep at night. Then I got a prescription to save money and started smoking every fucking day. This only developed an allergy in me and now I am five days completely sober and I find my rage is growing. Everyday is a fight not to buy, despite allergic reaction. In fact, I almost made an very expensive “date” yesterday in conjunction with my drug of choice. It fell through…fortunately?
I suppose this is a good thing about me; that I can find funny in any situation. The funny here is that I am familiar with Dr. William D. Silkworth’s addiction:allergy analogy from Alcoholics Anonymous which explains:
We believe, and so suggested a few years ago, that the action of alcohol on these chronic alcoholics is a manifestation of an allergy, that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average temperate drinker. These allergic types can never safely use alcohol in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve.
Miracle: I opened my big book right to the exact page by happenstance.
Anyway, I finally understand. I am allergic in the sense that I am being defined as a set that has a certain reaction. I never understood before because I have allergies and I certainly don’t crave more pollen to congest me.
I am involved in self-help, trying to learn how to authentically validate myself for being a homosexual. I hope through this process, I might learn to love myself. As I type that, I realize my real wildest dream…now… would be to go back to the innocent, good-hearted child I remember before life happened. Ha! No wonder I hate life so much, it has brought me nothing but pain, by my own account. One tear developing in my eyes but defying drop.
Having just finished watching my daily dose of My Three Sons and Leave It To Beaver, I laughed at the thought that I might become a Twilight Zone episode and find myself in the worlds I crave so much, perceiving a deficit in my parental care.
I must be spewing too much hate today…BACK SPASMS, and now I don’t remember what the subject of my post was…ah, no I didn’t. 🙂 Back spasm waning. Ah!
Postscript: Found this last image and absolutely love it so much because I can identify and make the connection between depression and rage.
The Truth of A Thousand Lies 