There. I said it, publicly. Well I say it in public already, but in social networking terms.
**sigh** It pains me, but it’s time to come out of the closet. No, I’m not gay, at least not today. I am referring to accepting and admitting that I have a monkey on my back. (He’s kinda cute though he’s one of those blue-assed baboons you see at the zoo and on the Discovery Channel)
As if no one really knew, right? Spoiler Alert! LeDonna is a batshit crazy alcoholic and drug fiend. (I know, it’s such a surprise, I was always so together and level-headed) I have been for, sadly, most of my life. From the day I started to produce those crazy hormones, I have been addicted to: Something. I think it started out as food, then sex, then alcohol, then theft, then drugs. Surprisingly never smoking cigarettes, thank God because I can’t even begin to fathom the cost of that beast. Not to mention if I smoked the same way I pursued all my other obsessions, I’d be one of the Marlboro Man’s junkie exes that puffed her way into an early grave. Praise God for asthma. My painfully wimpy lungs actually had my back on that one.
I never ever really wanted to label myself as an alcoholic or addict even though over the years I have created countless monstrosities in my life and destroyed just about everything in my world as a result of the consequences of alcohol and drug abuse. And pretty much the whole world knew how bad of a trainwreck I was, I was way too ashamed to talk openly about my struggles, partly due to fear of the stigma, and partly because…well, I never really wanted to entirely quit getting fucked up for the whole rest of my life. I simply could not fathom not being able to go back home to Houston and party with all my old friends (who sadly, I suspect many of them suffer from alcoholism as well), not being able to go to shows and clubs and bars and happy hour and airplane travel…and never have a drink again. I fucking love to drink. I love getting high. It’s not all about masking pain, it’s a lot about all the “pleasure” I could only seem to derive from altering my mind. It was the only way I could socialize, have any degree of identity or confidence, the only way I could unlock what I thought was the “real” me. I love euphoria. Euphoria’s great, especially when the other alternative is feeling like complete shit.
I’ve struggled with depression, attention deficits, massive anxiety and what I now can recognize as bizarre mood swings, ever since I can remember really. The predominent feelings I had as a child were total and complete fear and worry. At the age of 5, I was already a tiny female Woody Allen struggling to make sense of a world around me that was way too overpowering and intimidating. I was scared of my parents, I was scared of food, I was scared of the weather, I was scared of school and all the horrible foul turdmonsters of kids who laughed and teased me relentlessly because I was soft and pudgy and dressed like Shirley Temple from 1936 transplanted to 1976. From the moment I walked into LaPetite Academy I was called fatso and blimp. And that was just the beginning of what seemed like endless days and years of being hit, pushed around, pulled off gym equipment and shoved in a corner to be pinned down while gravel was shoved in my mouth. Why? WTF??? I had no clue, I hadn’t even said anything to anyone. To make things worse, I was quite sickly and a pathetically picky eater, and as a result I was constantly either puking or shitting my pants, which of course e
ndeared me to everyone. Even the staff didn’t seem to like me.
Welcome to my little world and enter ginormous social anxieties and appearance issues that have plagued me my whole entire life. From as early back as I can remember, I always remember feeling uncertain if I was cared for or even liked. I doubted anyone I met would be anything other than…well, pretty much mean. It was so weird, so bizarre. I don’t know why I percieved things the way I did but it set the stage for a pretty much sad lonely childhood and freakishly awkward adolescence. Once I experienced the relief alcohol provided from all my troubles, I thought I had literally died and gone to heaven. I had found my Holy Grail.
So this blog I am now going to use to finally once and for all air out all the shit I should have been journaling for the past 35 years, and document on a daily basis step by step the path of my recovery. I really hope not too many people read it, as it is going to get pretty dark and personal, and I’m not ready for evyone in my life to see just how effed up my life really is. Actually I really do, because I hope my stories might help someone else out there that is suffering. You are not alone, little freaks. You are not alone.