Welcome back to Endor. It’s been a few months since my last entry, proffered up to the fates for neither love nor money, and it’s good to be back. The decision to take my blog offline was tempered by shifting moods and an accoutrement of manic states. I left Facebook for the same reason. It was not a reactionist statement as some people have ventured; I just got tired of it. Social networking has its merit and I’d be a hypocrite to negate its virtues, but I think it takes a certain personality to do it without the uric acid reaching your head or antagonising somebody about something and getting into a tailspin about it. I opt out. Writing a blog is different; it feels more sincere. It’s like flowing with the sinuous cascade of an expression that is as natural to me as breathing is to you. Weaving words on a spindle is not unlike a song of larks carried softly over salt seas, until it reaches the summerlands beyond our guile or recollection. But I need no recollection of how good this feels, it is imbibed in my blood.
So what have I been up to? Well, in October I became the editor of a quarterly magazine about nature-based spirituality, cultural history and esoterica. It is taking up a lot of my time but I’ve been enjoying it tremendously. Other than that I’ve been busy with my job and a host of other personal engagements. One of them is finally letting go of a fifteen year old habit. I don’t wish to share the exact nature of the addiction, but suffice it to say that it is not an illegal narcotic, nor is it alcohol or nicotine. I have been able to function normally without displaying any outwardly perturbing symptoms but the damage it has done to my physical and mental wellbeing over the years has been serious. I have been abusing this “drug” to varying degrees of severity and consequence since 1998 and have never discussed it with anyone. Does it actually matter what it is? I don’t think so, a habit is a habit is a habit. The bottom line is that I have managed to kick it, and this has given me insurmountable strength.
I cannot tell you how empowering it feels to stare down an addition and realise that it no longer holds sway over your life. That you can chart your own journey without fuelling a gaping scream that only sophistry and ritual can end. Like an object devouring a subject until all light is extinguished, this is what addiction feels like. It doesn’t matter, truly, whether you are addicted to pills, booze, sex, food or gambling; the hold it has over you is tantamount to a death grip. So, how did I manage to triumph over the indomitable? I wish I could cite an epiphany, book or guru for this, because then at least I would have something tangible to refer back to when the void beckons and the urge to medicate overtakes; but the truth is rather wraithlike and uninspiring in its simplicity. I noticed that some of the physical effects of my addiction were probably irreparable and this scared the hell out of me. I did some research, realised that I was teetering close to the brink of medical intervention, and that was it. It was enough to break the spell.
I told you it was uninspiring.
But then life isn’t a Hollywood film. Sometimes all it takes is a few quiet moments of introspection and worlds collide. The fates intercede, decisions are made and lives are changed, forever. It has been a few weeks since my last “fix”, and while I’ve had a few moments of vacillation where I peered the great divide between victory and purgatory, I haven’t crossed it. I am—please allow me this cliché—a new person. Not changed. Do people ever really change? Like really change? I’m not convinced of that (in spite of what I say here). But stuff happens to us that sharpens our perspective and provides a monocle through which new horizons are glimpsed. And that’s when realisation hits; it is never too late to be what you might have been.
Meanwhile, back at the farm, life’s good. I’ve discovered French and German realism to balance my obsessive affinity with all things Dostoyevsky. I’m listening to a lot of 80s rock which is always a surefire sign that things are going well in my life. I’ve rekindled old friendships and made new ones. I’ve a brand new leather sofa and it kicks ass. I found my signature fragrance after years of two-timing Christian Dior with another Frenchman. I could regale you with plenty of other anecdotes, some commonplace and some less so, but the bottom line is that I’m back. And I’m here to stay.
Wonderful, welcome back!
Thank you!
Well thank fuck for that. Life is ever so slightly duller without the dry witticism and sublime commentary of atreyucrimmins.com. Wait. Does that imply I have an addiction? Some of my very favourite artists take long sabbaticals from the public. Kate Bush disappeared off for a decade once and we all loved her all the more for it.
Hahaha, this reminds me of what you said yesterday regarding my “irresistible allure spreading to far flung corners in whispers and sighs”. I think that’s mostly the corners of your mind babe!
Thank you, it’s good to be back.
It’s great to have you back Lady J. I’m glad the visit to Courlanders opened the door to a new perception and I don’t begrudge the lack of details, nor should any of your friends and readers. What you have done is extraordinary and contrary to what you think it’s terrifically inspiring that you’ve done it on your own. “Like an object devouring a subject until all light is extinguished, this is what addiction feels like” is exquisite. You have a beautiful soul.
Ah, thanks Andrew!
Good to see you here, btw. I had no idea you read my blog.
No. There is something VERY inspiring in the repeated refrains of grace, courage & character and you have all that and then some! Glad you’re back kid.
Thank you Mr Navarro! x
Ok. Takes serious cahoonas to do what you’ve just done. When I read this yesterday I was surprised you’d never talked about it before but then realized that, actually, I don’t share my demons either. Some, sure…but not all. Does anybody?
Also, I liked what you said about the behavioral aspect of addiction people don’t get that anything can become a destructive habit, it’s not all booze and dope. I respect you even more now, if that’s even possible.
Gosh, thank you. It’s not about ‘cahoonas’ so much as sincerity. I don’t think about other people when I write; this is why my blog posts can be a little disconcerting to those who know me. It is a medium untouched by the existent filters present in every discourse and relationship, no matter how close you are. On the contrary, it is often easier opening up to strangers. I am glad that you and others feel this way because it encourages me to relinquish the filter a little.
Gurdjieff would say that people can and do change when they work on themselves. I generally agree with him, with the added caveat that many of those who think they are working on themselves (read: “fighting for Salvation,” “working for ha-Mashiach,” “Suffering for the good of all sentient beings,” etc etc in different mythical frameworks) are really just going all around Robin Hood’s barn, changing a little, but all basically delaying their own enlightenment.
I wholeheartedly agree; which is why I’m not convinced by the veracity of change. I think many of us abuse the concept and use it as a shield or a mask. Personal development? Sure. Growth? Absolutely. We’re in a constant state of evolution. But I think that our unadulterated natures, our shadow-selves to coin a Jungian phrase, remain very much as they are.
You’ve overcome an addiction with quiet elegance, hats off to you, and I’m so glad to hear your voice again.
Thank you, Vickie. I’m going to watch ‘Notorious’ later in your honour.
I am so incredibly proud of you. Kicking an addiction, any addiction is a life altering event and you’ve done so quite gracefully.
More than anything else, I am relieved to read that you are out there, being you, filling the world with your words. This brings me a type of joy that is hard to describe but that I know that without doing so, you understand.
Thank you for sharing and thank you for being such a wonderful piece of my life’s tapestry.
You know the feeling is eternally mutual. Thank YOU for much of the same.
Very nice article..loved the sheer force of raw thoughts coming straight out of mind..i could really connect to it..
Thank you, J! Glad you resonated and hope to see you back here soon.
True Story: When I was 13, I almost died of alcohol poisoning by imitating that picture of Jimmy Page. Otherwise, great article. Glad I found you.
Gods that’s hilarious! I’m delighted that you lived to tell the tale… and post it on my blog! Welcome to Endor.
Given your name, and somewhat mystical proclivities, have you ever heard this? I suspect that you might like it…
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moondog_%281969_Moondog_album%29
MOONDOG 1 & 2
regards, Pete.
When I say name, I refer of course to The Witch of Endor.
The Viking of 6th Avenue! I heard his name a few years ago but wasn’t privy to the details of his unconventional lifestyle, and no I haven’t heard his music. Something to investigate. Thank you for pointing this Odin-esque chap in my direction!
Ah, addiction. The kindling of the low self-image. I’ve been addicted to most things but it was my addiction to a toxic predator that turned out to be my undoing. Your cryptic post, while beautifully written, is making me want to get on a plain and sock you one. I hate a cliff hanger. What are you, a BBC series? xo
But of course. These corset-clad heaving bosoms have been squeezed by Sean Bean on many an occasion. Yours for a tube of poppycock, A xo
Your words ring true across the pond: “Like an object devouring a subject until all light is extinguished, this is what addiction feels like.” Thanks for giving me yet another reason to stop. Congrats in kicking your habit!
Thank you, and may you too find the strength and fortitude to prevail over the seductive allure of nicotine!