Self-medicating?

I was recently informed that I am a self-medicater. What this means is that I like to use substances to alter my state of mind so that I can be happy. Obviously this would create a codependence issue, unfortunately it feels excellent when done “properly”. I also recently realized that I when properly medicated I am actually more present and self-aware ans I respond to regular stimulants like anyone else, specifically caffeine or nicotine. Interestingly enough, it seems that I also prefer cheap beer and the way it makes me feel versus the more expensive, specialty or micro brews.

So tonight I am playing a game, the sequel to a game I played under heavy influence several years ago when I was self-medicating, and I discovered that the joy I felt while playing the game then and “altered” (my preferred term versus “high”) is the same joy I get playing the game unaltered. It’s very heartening to know and very relieving as well. I am drinking beer, but it is cheap beer and I haven’t eaten anything today, so I wonder would I feel the same drinking a Sam Adams seasonal instead of a good ol’ Busch Light? Truthfully, as country as this probably makes me sound, I prefer the Busch Light.

Part of me craves, almost to the point of craziness, becoming altered now. Yet, I can now say to myself, “Nope, you don’t need it.” Another part of me reminds myself that there may be a day again some time in the future that I can become altered again, but even knowing that, I manage to simply shrug it off and go back to my game and beer. Most interesting of all, I can recognise the depressing aspect of alcohol and remind myself that any sadness I think I am feeling is likely caused by it and not a genuine sensation I am feeling. Never before have I been in such control and so content. I hope this continues and that I can continue to post here, perhaps even with more frequency. I just received an opportunity to write comedy and be compensated for my efforts. Never before has a dream of mine been so close. A small part of me thinks that it’s not possible and that something will inevitably go wrong. I relish this newfound ability to call shenanigans on my brain’s own bullshit.

Is this what happiness feels like?