My 20 Year Odyssey to Answer One Question—What Feeling Am I Trying to Medicate?
The vow I made at 12, the house party at 17 and the shame I've been medicating ever since
A mate handed me some questions a few months back.
I still haven’t answered them.
I spose that I thought I didn’t need them, but a part of me was worried about what might come up if I did.
I’ve been sitting on them. Waiting for the right time.
That time is now.
A little over a year ago I sparked up a conversation with a bloke at the gym.
That conversation turned into a friendship that’s blossomed nicely. Our personalities and interests were very aligned, but I also started to see him as a bit of a role model.
Only marginally older than me, but with all the indicators of a life I was still working toward:
A strong and healthy body
A successful career in the arts
A business that he owned and operated
A long-term, committed, loving relationship
But most importantly, I knew he had seen some shit.
I knew, like me, that he’d overcome battles no one knew about. That he’d gone to war with his internal self and come out victorious. Regardless of his success, this made him relatable and someone I could trust.
He had an intimate relationship with the shadow realm, and knowledge of how to escape it.
So when we sat down a few months back to catch up and talk about my persistent struggles, and he presented these questions, I was all ears.
Then I sat on them.
Maybe I thought I was beyond the questions. That their relevance had worn off and I’d be fine if I didn’t answer them. Maybe I was scared of what would come out of me if I really sat down to think.
I’ve concluded that these questions are partly for me, but mostly for someone else.
Some quick context
At 16, I was obsessed with golf.
I genuinely thought I could and would turn pro. Then in 2004, after a freak accident on the driving range almost cost me my life, the dream was over before it began.
My parents sued the golf club. In 2008, we settled out of court.
I was awarded a $90k payout as a 19-year-old fresh out of high school. I moved to the big city, got a job at Star Casino and managed to convince my parents I needed the money to start playing poker full time.
I probably lasted 6 months before I’d gambled every cent and didn’t even have enough to cover rent.
Moved back in with my parents. Started a 10-year cycle of depression, gambling, drinking, partying, late nights and escapism.
Around 2016, I went to uni, found drugs and took the escapism in a different direction.
Up until 2022, I mostly continued the same behaviours on a loop. Partying, avoidance, lying, cheating, anger, depression, heavy drinking, no consistency, no responsibility. No concern for who I hurt along the way.
Then I found Marcus, Stoicism, gratitude and self-help content.
I started to see who I truly was, how I’d behaved and what I could do to change it all. When I finally decided to start again for the last time, I was 32.
Now I’m 37, in love, have a job I’m passionate about and create daily.
My life has arrived at a place I never thought possible. The love and happiness I feel every single day is immense.
I still feel the gnawing of the shadow realm. Not as regularly. But it’s still there.
These questions are partly a way to hold me accountable to myself and the life I’ve created. An attempt to stave off regression and the descent back into the darkness.
But they’re also for someone who might still be in the thick of it. Fighting skirmishes daily with their intrusive thoughts and their lower self.
So here they are.
1. What feeling am I trying to medicate?
Hard to really pinpoint, but I’ll give it a crack.
The feeling is most likely a deep-rooted self-loathing. Almost like I don’t believe I deserve to be happy and have a good life, so I turn to risk-taking behaviour to distract and numb me from those thoughts.
I want to be free from the shame of who I am.
Blowing things up, destroying my life and giving people a reason to be ashamed of me is easier than confronting the shame I already feel inside.
2. When did I first feel this?
There are a few things that could be the starting point.
Fear of my own mortality
Constant movement and disruption as a kid
The death of my dream to be a professional golfer
But the one that stands out most is a moment at a house party in 2006, when I was 17.
I grew up in a Catholic household. Church every Sunday. Committed Christian with a very active role in youth groups and volunteering outfits.
When I was 12, I took a vow of chastity and signed a card with my commitment, which I kept in my wallet everywhere I went. I’d vowed to God I would save my virginity until marriage, only then giving it to the person I’d spend the rest of my life with.
Of course it was an easy promise to make as a pre-pubescent child. But I wore it like a badge of honour through my early high-school years.
While everyone else was being thrown off course by the wonders of sex in grade eight, nine and ten, I remained steady.
I felt like an individual. I was proud of my commitment and my resilience.
Thankfully, my willpower wasn’t tested too often, but regardless, it was intact and formed a big part of my identity.
That was until the party.
Just before it, I’d moved schools. My new friends had all lost their virginities and didn’t particularly like that I wielded my celibacy card with such pride. They thought it was stupid. Or maybe it made them feel stupid. Either way, they wanted me to be like them.
So they hatched a plan.
In the lead-up to the party, they gave a task to a girl. She was one of the more promiscuous in our year group, and the task was simple: take my virginity.
At the party, the guys helped get me super drunk. Although I didn’t need too much help with that. They assumed correctly that the lubrication would loosen my standards.
Then they shoved me in a room where the girl was waiting, turned the lights off and held the door closed from the other side. Stuck in a room with a girl in a skimpy outfit making advances while I sheepishly sat there full of cheap wine and hormones—I didn’t stand a chance.
The next morning I strolled out into the lounge room where the hungover brigade had gathered to share war stories from the night before.
They turned their attention to me. Anticipating my reaction.
I stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by these ‘friends’ of mine, and without a word pulled my wallet from my pocket. I removed the chastity card, held it up, and in an act of acceptance and surrender, tore it in half.
They applauded me. Bellowed cheers of approval. Gathered around to pat me on the back and reinforce the confusion and shame that had just spawned inside of me.
If I had to put the feeling down to one single thing, it’s that moment.
I betrayed God. But more importantly, I betrayed myself.
3. What do I want to do to act out?
Acting out has taken many shapes and sizes over the years.
Two-day gambling binges
Spending every last cent at the roulette table
Drinking excessively and avoiding important tasks
Going out 5 nights in a row and foregoing responsibilities
Blowing up large sums of cash because I can’t emotionally regulate
Taking more party supplies than necessary and staying up until I pass out
Most of these I have a firm grip on. The ones that still plague me from time to time are gambling and alcohol.
Previously, my acting out would be complete blow-ups. Total devastation of friendships, relationships and finances. Quitting jobs. Losing partners. Not being able to pay rent.
Proper degenerate behaviour.
Nowadays it comes in the form of 4 pints of Balter XPA and a $200 whirl on the brickie’s laptop.
I have far more control than I ever have, because the stakes are so much higher now. But I want to get to a place where these minor regressions have no place in my life whatsoever.
The itch won’t ever feel thoroughly scratched until I address the root cause.
4. What are some healthy alternatives?
A few things have helped me build healthier behaviours, but I’m always searching for more, because the journey isn’t over.
Creating — podcasts, writing, music
Exercise — boxing, gym and MMA have helped a lot
Learning — gaining knowledge and perspective by studying content
Responsibility — taking on a new role, pushing myself to evolve and work hard
Love — being in love and finding someone to commit to wholeheartedly gives me a steadiness that makes everything easier
These all keep me sane and on track. But I think I need something more specific. Something that ties directly to the behaviour and redirects it until new neural pathways are built.
For a long time the answer was the gym.
Even after a long day. Even if I’d already been that day. When I felt the gnawing, the itch asking to be scratched, I’d just go to the gym. Regardless of the time or how long I stayed.
Sweating, endorphins pumping, moving the body. Very healthy alternative.
But there’s another one I probably haven’t given enough credit to.
Naming it.
Actually stopping. Feeling the feeling. Writing it down. Diarising when I felt it, what the circumstances were, how long it lasted. Creating some data. Picking up on trends I could preempt next time.
And as I write this out, I reckon this is the solution.
For a long time I’ve gotten really good at reflecting (acting out, then reviewing after the fact) and not good at all at writing in the moment, while the feeling is still raw.
That’s it!!
Feel it in the moment and get it down on paper and out of my body.
What is the feeling?
What are the circumstances present?
What would be the consequences of acting on the feeling?
How can I use the energy from that feeling to do something positive?
Simple. Elegant. Powerful (hopefully).
Would you look at that, I just effed around and wrote my way to an answer I’ve been avoiding for months.
Wild!
Anyway, I think that’s it from me.
If you’re still in the thick of it, answer these four questions and see what comes up.
Take them, own them and answer them honestly. After all, they are not mine. They were handed to me by a mate who was on the other side of his own internal war, but I’m so grateful that they were gifted to me.
Because now I am gifting them to you.
LFG!!!
With gratitude,
SAV
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