I am an alcoholic. For years, alcohol was the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning. All day long, I obsessed over drinking: when could I start, did I have enough, how could I hide it. Every hour until that first drink was steeped in unease and self-hatred. Every hour past that first drink was focused on the drink after that. I lived completely in the past or the future, in regrets and anxiety. The present was increasingly intolerable and so I sought escape. It was a vicious cycle that went on and on and on.
You have probably had your fill of people using Philip Seymour Hoffman's tragic overdose as an excuse to talk about addiction. Forgive me for adding to the noise, but it's been hard for me to think of anything else lately. It's been hard to see the number of people condemning Hoffman for the "stupid, selfish" act that took his life and not feel painted with those same hurtful broad strokes.