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Bradley Hardeman's avatar

"Not only a means of euphoria and nostalgia, caffeine is a safety net that cradles sad minds without attracting judgment.”:

this is... huge. I cling to energy drinks, coffee, anything offering that tiny sliver of stimulation-- something to function normally. It's like my brain is a state road, plunged with pot holes, and every day, I, a laboring civil worker, fill those holes with stimulates to smooth it over. Even then, the fillings make your car hop a little when you drive over them. It's an addiction that I can hide. It's a silent call for help that nobody knows unless my partner inquires, "isn't that your third Red Bull today?" or "your fingers are bleeding."

“My body-focused behaviors aren’t so bad that strangers notice - but anyone who lives with me eventually notices my stack of bad habits and it becomes their cross to bear”:

Such a beautiful line, one that I felt so deeply.

“I knew there was something wrong with my brain - something they couldn’t just run a test for and find. I was up to three energy drinks a day.”

Do you ever feel like something is wrong with you, badgering your every neuron every waking moment of the day, but when you seek help, nobody can find a thing? But we, long-term residents of our minds, are at the very least perceptive enough to know that something is not quite right here. I know there's such a thing as a "high functioning (blank)," but I don't quite know what goes in the gaps there. It's something I've been wanting to know my entire life.

“Close to 30, thousands of dollars sunk into a bullshit license - I couldn’t try on another career. I had to preserve in the pit.”

This is so profound. My friends and family often poke fun that I have a new hobby or personality every year or so-- living, breathing, embodying each and every phase. I don't realize it when it happens, but it's like I find interest in something, and next thing you know it, I'm strapped in with a harness, flashlight on my helmet, carabiner on a wire propelling down into the depths of it. Growing up, though, these changes are not as kind. The responsibilities of every day life require stability and routine. When the thought of those routines make start to make me nauseous, I can't just bounce from thing to thing anymore. Stuck, compromise is a necessary decision so that the rest of life can function, and the compromise is a reality I'm wrestling and finding my footing in.

Apologies for all of the excessive anecdotes, but this story really resonates with me. I've struggled for years with something I can't put a name to, and many of the ways I cope with it are easily disguised. Out of everything I've read lately, this piece really strikes me. Thank you. I feel a little less alone. I also have a fear that one day these addictions will catch up to me. I long for a day where I rely on nothing, live naturally, and experience life without a substance behind it.

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Pablo Rivera's avatar

Excellent throughout, especially the ending!

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