Subsidence of an Ego
<p>Ahh, the music. <strong><em>“Creeping death”</em></strong> by <strong>Metallica</strong> blares from my Bluetooth speaker as I sip my morning coffee. The cryptic melodies and dark lyrics light my brain I’m sure, unfortunately I don't have a brain scan handy. My Spotify aptly follows the face melting vibe of Metallica with <strong>Tim McGraw’s</strong> <strong><em>“Where the green grass grows”</em></strong>. It is an eclectic early morning soundtrack I am aware. As Spotify reverts back and forth spastically between soft and heavy, light and dark, and rock and country, I sit here as I often do and sort through my thoughts on life.</p>
<p>Memories of my <em>‘not too distant’</em> tumultuous past, serve as a mooring line and tether me to my personal vow of betterment. They also serve as a mental record, that shows me how and why I am here <strong>[and now]</strong> today. I’m thinking more and more on recent events and their phenomenology; or, often as well, their apparent synchronicity with my current chosen life course.</p>
<p>In the last 3–4 months I have come to truly embrace the adoption of a new way of life; that of sobriety and self-improvement. During this time, I’ve seen things that seem to unfold before me as episodes of what my life would become if I stayed on my former path as a bitter, self-hating, lonely, disillusioned drunk. Those who know me well and love me, watched for years as I wasted my potential as a man; living an aimless life and chasing escape, from the shame of compounded pain that I caused myself and others over the two decades between my first drink and nine months ago.</p>
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