Mental Illness Music & Addiction
I used to listen to music all day, all night, I had one headphone in my ear in college classes. The other ear digesting dialogue from the professor who rarely had a name in my life. Just a list of deadlines.
I played guitar (I still do, with less passion) and I miss my Yamaha. Stepped on by a "friend" in a drunken rage.
At the age of eighteen, life was defined by The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Bad Company (oops 80's rock), Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac, Eric Clapton, Cat Stevens and the rest of them. The first time I fell in love (and have I since?) we would stay up all night, incense burning on the night tables, sketching each other while Jim Morrison sang about riders on the storm and living on love street. In love with each other and with the music that fueled it.
I miss love like that. I miss love.
Classic rock, some blues like BB king thrown in for diversity, reminds me of what I have lost.
And then---a rather abrupt introduction to alcoholism. No longer did I listen to the music that made me laugh, but I replaced it with sounds that define the feeling of being out of control. A lot of Metallica, Pantera... and the like. Great music in it's genre-- hearing it now I instantly picture a bottle of tequila, myself passed out on the floor, waking up somewhere strange, my knees cut and bleeding from falling. My pride--shattered.
This music reminds me of that time and there is no escaping this fact. I miss the music that defined my life but to hear it is to feel what I felt. I would rather not feel. I would rather keep running.
And then--addiction. The goddamn icing on the cake. Though still a class A alcoholic (merlot and I made fast friends, liters every day, I will always miss it--addicts always do). With addiction came loud clubs, loud friends, euphoria that I cannot explain. I will not ever be able to find words for it. It is a dangerous feeling because it feels so good. It must be kept hidden. It must not steal my life away--again.
Addiction brings along horrible music. A lot of techno music, loud abrasive beats, because it fuels your high.
This brings me to sobriety. Sobriety involves a lot of talk radio. I miss music. But music reminds me of addiction. I find lovely new bands and analyze the lyrics. Half the goddamn time they talk about drugs and alcohol. Bright Eyes, a fantastic low key group, sings about heroin. And then I remember the time I did heroin. He talks about rehab. And I remember rehab.
I wrote about bands. I went to every concert I wanted to. Every concert I was wasted. I forget if Bob Dylan was as bad as everyone tells me he was; I remember Neil Young singing about freedom when I felt so trapped.
My partner does not understand.
"This is pathetic. You should be recovered by now!" I do not think nearly three years of sobriety is really that fantastic, and with a couple bumps in a lovely paved road, but apparently I should be recover. Not triggered. Ever.
Ahem, just give me five minutes and I'll be recovered for ya. Pause that song and I'll be back to good.
I miss music, and it may sound strange, but I sort of need to avoid it. It makes me think of things that terrify me. But things I miss.
I miss Tangled up In blue. The rest of them too.
***
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