17: Illusions
The seventeenth installment of the "semicolon" series.
“semi-colon” contains a discussion of mental health struggles. It may not be appropriate for younger readers or those sensitive to candid descriptions of suicidal ideation or other depressive symptoms.
“I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment”
― William Shakespeare, Othello: Act 2, Scene 3
After my high school “senior supper” last Sunday night, I began my writing for this week. Now, there is a half-completed story from HopeWay floating around my Google Docs. But I wasn't excited about it. Not surprised with myself. I was kind of bored. As though I’d been driving on the same highway for too long.
Still, I sat there listening to a playlist and wrote. The third draft read like A Midsummer Night's Dream. But not in a good way; in a weird acid trip way. I was cycling through time within the story. A detail from HopeWay would bring up a tangent from my childhood. It made little sense. I wasn't excited for the next word or sentence. For the first time on this journey, I did not surprise myself. Not fun.
After a few days of writer's block (boredom), life intervened. The Next Conference by the Charlotte Latin Launch Team – two days of discussions on mental health and preparing for college – was a masterpiece. It intertwined fun with serious conversation and was engaging and enlightening for all of us.
I have been a student at, or at least attended, Charlotte Latin for fourteen years. I know most of my peers pretty well. Love them all to death, actually. But our class is loud. Latin’s class of 2022 certainly has passion. In my nearly decade and a half there, we have rarely been silent for more than five minutes. You know something special is happening when we shut up for a full day.
That is exactly what happened when Patrick Balsley spoke to us on Wednesday morning. Patrick hosts a podcast called Champagne Problems. I won’t rehash his entire presentation, but I’ll give a synopsis. A kid starts drinking. It goes downhill. Eventually, he recovers. Finally, he begins sharing his journey with others.
Patrick’s raw honesty regarding his addiction ignited a sense of resilience within the crowd. He walked us through his journey with remarkable vulnerability. He showed both the origin of his addiction and the origin of his recovery. We were in awe.
I have been hesitant to share this week’s post for a while. Or maybe not ready to share. I am still pretty hesitant to click post. But I saw what Patrick’s speech did for our class. I have made hints about my unhealthy relationship with alcohol in prior posts. It is time to explore that.
Most people know someone who has (or had) problems with alcohol. It’s an archetype. If you think you don’t know anyone, keep reading. I haven't had alcohol in one hundred sixty-one days. Here’s why I started counting that number.
By modern high school standards, I was pretty late to the drinking scene. Through middle school and early high school, I was adamant that I would never drink. It seemed stupid to me.Then, sophomore year rolled around. Naturally, I went to a party with some friends. I had a few Bud Lights. Nothing too weird. Everyone else was doing the same. Drinking at parties on the weekends became the standard.
The COVID quarantine made every day the same. Every day felt like a weekend. There was nothing else to do after online school, so I drank more often. When the pandemic ended, everyone was eager to gather. More parties. More opportunities to drink too much on a Friday or Saturday night. Everything felt fine until September.
Something changed that month. I started drinking a few beers by myself before and after the parties. I also smoked a ton of cigarettes. This was no longer social behavior. I was chasing something. Trying to fill some void. Self-medicating. I was sad all the time and struggled to focus on my schoolwork. I literally could not write English papers. Irony.
By November, I could not really think at all. I was depressed and struggled to act like a normal human being. I found some Ritalin leftover from middle school and I added it to my routine, hoping it might help me get through the day. It also made me a really fast reader. I rolled through books on those little white pills.
And it still felt sort of okay, but then suddenly it wasn't. All of this just made everything worse. By early December, I was a mess. It feels odd to write about the 2021 version of myself. I’m not proud of it.
By late 2021, my friends knew I was drinking too much. My parents suspected it too and tried many times to talk with me. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong. It just felt like that was the only way to operate.
Interestingly, in my manic or hypomanic stages, I had no interest in drinking. This gave me some false sense of confidence I could “stop whenever I wanted.” The “natural high” was better than anything I could get from a can or a bottle. I did not need anything extra to be functional. It seemed I was above everything.
But in my depression of last fall, I was fully expecting to die at any moment. Nothing seemed to matter. Alcohol became a bigger part of my life. What used to be a part of me, quickly became all of me.
Then, on December 11th, I chose my slippers, woke up my parents, and went to the emergency room. I have not touched alcohol in one hundred and sixty-one days.
I decided to stop drinking my second night at Davidson Behavioral Center. Right after reading a quote in Lonesome Dove.
“The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters.”
― Larry McMurty, Lonesome Dove
This quote is in my mind whenever I have a La Croix instead of a Bud Light. For my brain, I have to choose what matters. Depression generally, and Bipolar Disorder specifically, just do not mix well with alcohol. Most eighteen-year-olds can drink a six-pack and be totally fine. It took me a while to realize I am not most eighteen years olds. Robin, my friend from HopeWay, frequently told me to “prioritize things.” Writing this post, I finally understand what he meant.
As I healed and grew during my month at HopeWay, and my medical team figured out the right prescription medication for my illness, the need for self-medication fell away. My relationship with alcohol was driven by my depression. I drank to try to escape my suicidal ideation, but alcohol only made it worse. This is an extremely common theme in mental health. Depression leads to substance use and substance use drives you deeper into depression. A terrible sequence of events.
I don’t miss drinking. That warm feeling on the back of my neck after a few beers felt nice. But I don’t need it. I’m still adjusting socially. Still learning to navigate a party without a beer in my hand. And that’s okay. Six months ago, being okay was impossible.
That is what this whole post is about: being okay. As Patrick told the CLS class of 2022 last week, there is a chance on the other side of destructive behavior. When I was drinking too much, I was always reaching for something. The only way to actually get there was to stop drinking. Alcohol is dangerously appealing when facing depression. Simply an accessible way to escape.
There is no token for true happiness at the bottom of the bottle. Or in the Venmo from the bookie. Or in the shopping cart. These things can feel fantastic. But they don’t lead to genuine happiness. It took me a while to figure that one out.
Later today I will graduate from high school. If you’d told me a year, or even a month, ago that I would share these details on the day of my graduation, I simply would not have believed you. But I like that. After all, I wanted to surprise myself.
The song I played as I made the final edits for this post. The man singing, Dylan Frost, is an alcoholic. He is also a bipolar schizophrenic. I love his work.
“Illusions is the seventeenth in a planned series about my journey of pain, diagnosis, and healing. To join the nearly 4,000 followers of semi-colon and automatically receive the next installment please subscribe:
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For those struggling with their mental health, please talk to a friend, parent, teacher, coach, family member, or anyone you know who cares about you. If you are in immediate crisis, please use the buttons below to text the Crisis Text Line or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.
William is the recipient of the Moral Courage award for Charlotte Latin School for 2022.
You are so deserving of this!
Best one yet. It was very brave, but necessary to show everyone the substance abuse aspect for people dealing with mental health issues. Thanks for continuing to share your journey and helping so many.