What I am about to share here is very personal and very real. I've had several people say that I am an unapologetic person, in ways where I am totally fine with being who I am. They are absolutely spot on. However, there are moments when I have such deep doubts of my being and feel very low about myself, ashamed even.

I've been struggling with depression. For reals. Nobody really talks about it and that's a shame. Now my depression is compounded with a dangerous addition: alcohol.

Alcoholism is a serious issue within my family. We develop addiction, be it alcohol (most of us) or other form of reliance on something unhealthy. My brother committed suicide and alcohol was a big role in his ending his life. My sisters struggle as well, one is sober for 6 years now and another one is slowly disappearing from us and we are completely helpless in saving her. 

​I've had some moments in my life where alcohol had control over me (especially in college). After college, I pretty much had it in a nonissue category until now.

​Yes, until now.

I've been struggling with a lot of issues the past few years, especially with feeling trapped and too domesticated, my creativity being stifled and hating the decisions and choices I've made that got me to the point of where I am now. 

Finding Meraki was amazing. It was a dream that came true, although short lived and enjoyed by only me. Also, the RV trip has led me to slowly succumb into alcoholism. 

How did that happen? I don't think there is a need to analyze this under a microscope other than to say this, it happened. I am actually terrified of getting to the point where I need to stay sober. I do not want to lose my privilege to drink. I like my beer. I like hanging out with friends and having booze as well. I like to celebrate with my booze. Basically, I love to drink. 

My problem isn't that I drink everyday. My problem is, when I drink, I do not know how to stop. I hate the fact that something nonliving actually has more power than I. 

Come to think of it, I feel like a lot of things right now has more power than my very own being. I think that is why I loved my Mer, I was in complete control with where I went, where I stayed and who I met. Boy, what a mouthful of a philosophical shit, no wonder I turn into my happy buzz and connect with fun people when we drink.

Anyway, there you go. I'm depressed AF and on the border of losing my privilege to drink. 

So, with that out there, I'm seeing a therapist. I'm going to track my drinking habits and be accountable for it (whenever I drink, limit to two and never to do it alone). If I find myself failing to do those two "rules" I set for myself, then off to AA it is. I'm going to go into the mindfulness mode where I mediate through reading personal development books and write in my "Zen as Fuck" journal.

I mean, I have it good. I have an amazing lifestyle, a fun job that I am passionate in, I got a great family and lots of friends I connect with on a deep level. I sure as hell don't want to fuck it up. 

​I tried to write. I sat in my garage late into the night, staring at my lit up darts board. I really tried to write. From the heart. But it was too much, too revealing and too unseemingly. 
 
Bullseyes. Bullshit. If you aim for the “moon,” you will truly fall. I fell onto a shooting star and it sure ain't a fun ride, so far. 
 
I could keep throwing darts, over and over, having my goals met or being all over the map. It doesn’t matter. It didn’t. 
 
Literally, what’s the point? What’s the point?

You know the "Story of the Hour," by Chopin? I feel like that woman just saw her supposedly dead husband walk into the door. The only difference is, I didn't collapse or die, but I kept going down the stairs, leaving that small window behind.