What is your favorite drink?
“Something to numb the pain of existence” -BM
I wanted to write something more poetic to answer this question, to distill the complexity into something calm for digestion. Maybe a simple “tea is my favorite” or “blessings from above.” Something easy, even fashionable. But this blog is about integrity, and I can’t lie to myself. I can’t lie to my higher power, relentlessly watching my hell.
My drink of the moment is Bacardi. Occasionally Jose Cuervo, Gold, “they’ve got me”
It coats my throat like friendly fire and settles in my stomach regretfully, yet I return to it like old friends who I did manage to leave behind painfully. I struggle with it heavily, though I do my best to disguise it. I don’t know how well I succeed—those closest to me always seem to see past the bullshit. They remind me of my past mistakes, their words like ghosts tugging at the hem of my progress. Most recently, a friend told me he had flashbacks to a dark time. A dark time for me. A dark time for us. And I wonder—how long do the shadows of my choices linger in the memories of others?
My struggles now are different, though.
I earned 1.5 years of sobriety in 2023, a stretch of time marked by resilience, though not without suffering. I was viciously bullied, ridiculed, punished for being me. And yet, I stayed sober through that abhorrent time. But not for long after. Maybe I held on as long as I did because the pain was external, an attack I could name and fight eternal. But when the battle is within, when the enemy wears my face and screams obscenities in my own voice, the lines blur becoming quite thin, leaving no trace.
I try to hold on to reality always, but I am of course not perfect. I try to take my medication, but the bottle in my hand often wins the fight. The nights are horror—throwing up at 2 AM, medication and all, my body rejecting my best intentions. It’s painful. And yet… a couple of days later, sometimes the very next morning, I go right back. My own biggest hater.
Still, I am hopeful.
I can see an end to the insanity. The hurdles stand tall—withdrawals, rage, frustration. Impatience digging its claws into my skin. Mood swings, exacerbated by Bipolar I, twisting my emotions like a hurricane within. Some days, the fight feels impossible. But I can’t lie—my will is strong.
What is my end goal?
Sobriety.
Not for anyone else. Not for guilt or shame or the echoes of the past.
For me.
Because I deserve to see what’s on the other side of this battle. Because my story isn’t over yet.
SoulSprouts, A Journey Within
Let all the battles we fight, we win
What are your thoughts? We want to know!