I first heard the proverb from my mom. It’s become my unofficial motto, for better or worse. I feel like it’s become the unofficial motto for many in my generation— for better or worse.

Better laugh than cry.

Every generation has its problems, but being a 20-something year old kind of sucks right now. How are we dealing? By joking.

100k in student debt? Better laugh than cry.

Can’t move out or live alone because an apartment is $1800 a month? Better laugh than cry.

Entry level jobs are asking for 4 years of experience? Better laugh than cry.

Earth may never be the same again because no one wants to actually tackle climate change? Better laugh than cry.

Dating has been reduced to swiping, random hookups and ghosting? Better laugh than cry.

Our president is running the US into the ground? Better laugh than cry.

(Hamberders, thousands of them. Better laugh than cry.)

If someone overheard the conversations I have with my friends, they might be concerned by how often we mention wanting to die.

“I’m so EGGcited for breakfast! Get it?”

“Literally kill yourself”

“I wish…”

Obviously, we don’t actually want to die. We want to live. We want to develop meaningful careers. We want families. We want financial stability. We want purpose. We want what young adults have always wanted.

But the fact that we’re going so far as to using death (arguably the most common fear) as a joke speaks to how expert this generation has become at hiding fear. Hiding the fear that comes with not knowing what the hell we’re doing, or where this country is going. Hiding fear behind a veil of cynicism, and excessive sarcasm.

I’m writing from the pool of the relatively privileged (I can’t speak from any other perspective). We’re educated, we have family to live with, we can try different jobs, we have smartphones on which to download dating apps. But a winning hand is useless if you don’t know the rules of the game, and right now the instruction manual appears to be in Chinese.

So we laugh while we pop our pills for anxiety and depression. We laugh while we self-medicate with booze/ other substances. We laugh as we max out our credit cards.

We laugh until we’re crying.

 

Not where I saw myself ten years ago. Then again I never thought I’d follow a boyfriend across the country, have tattoos, live in DC, experience a stint at a psych ward, etc. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?

When I used to hear the word “rehab”, I immediately pictured individuals going through horrible withdrawals from hard drugs, or straight up alcoholics with grey skin and the shakes. Rehab seemed like a place for losers. People that failed at life and turned to substance abuse to drown out their crippling disappointment and self-hatred. Of course I’d never end up there.

Yet, here I am. 24 years old, educated, no financial problems, no disabilities, not even a damn allergy and with the most amazing support system one could hope for. Going to rehab.

Like many, I am using substance abuse to deal with something. Or escape something?

Escapism is the avoidance of unpleasant, boring, arduous, scary, or banal aspects of daily life. It can also be used as a term to define the actions people take to help relieve persistent feelings of depression or general sadness

The toughest part of rehab won’t be the lack of alcohol. Confronting the root cause of my self-destructive behavior, however… I’m guessing there are some dark corners of my mind that are laden with cobwebs by now. And I’m scared of spiders.

Anyways, I am truly blessed to have this opportunity to better myself. I think many many people struggle with an abnormal relationship with alcohol. I mean, of course! It’s legal, cheap, socially acceptable… Even if one blacks out and acts like a mess, friends will rarely judge because “whatever, he/she was just drunk.” Unfortunately, most don’t have the luxury of taking a break from life for a month to focus solely on recovery.

Alcohol is amazing in many ways. It represents different cultures and traditions. It is, in my opinion, linked to humanity and our need to socialize and connect with others.  I mean come on, hangovers are awful yet they don’t deter most from continuing to drink.

But alcohol abuse falls on a wide spectrum. Just because someone isn’t drinking a vodka smoothie for breakfast or blacking out daily doesn’t mean they aren’t struggling. I have no idea what rehab will be like (stay tuned), but based on the conversations I’ve had with employees of various centers, it’s not only the tweakers and the shakers who seek help. It’s also your average, mostly-functional individuals who don’t quite understand how they ended up needing rehab in the first place.

 

Well, the time has finally come for me to stop crawling around the bottom of the pit I’ve dug myself into.

In some ways, rock bottom isn’t that bad– maybe that’s why I’ve overstayed my welcome here. It’s quite comforting once you’ve convinced yourself that things can’t get much worse. After all, it’s easier to slide down a mountain than climb back up, right? Unfortunately, things can always get worse. My rock bottom isn’t actually rock; it’s malleable dirt. The pit can always get deeper.

I’ve been taking my luck for granted.

Some of my actions and experiences living a degenerate lifestyle could have led to far greater consequences…

Exhibit A: Summer bender, 2017

Finally got my Master’s degree! Time to fully concentrate on finding a job and starting my adult life, right? Pshhh that’s no fun. How about a week-long bender instead? Who could pass up sub-par rappers, terrifying Uhaul experiences, and plenty of mysterious/unexplained bruises (like, a LOT of bruises). Sure, I humiliated myself in front of many people. But hey, at least nobody died or got arrested, and I successfully moved into my new home despite a vindictive ex. And now I have some pretty unique memories (do you know anyone that slept overnight in a UHaul?). You only live once, right?

Exhibit B: Happy birthday

I somehow got a job! Time to start doing my best and proving myself to my employer, right?  Meh, I’m bored out of my mind and unmotivated. To compensate, I’m going to party every weekend like it’s 1999.  What better occasion for this than my 24th birthday? Start pouring the drinks people, let’s make this one for the books! Where is the line between fun and horrific anyways? One moment I’m having a blast with my loved ones and the next I’m waking up at……. A psych ward?! (Yikes I guess I didn’t see the line). What do you mean I “should probably be out by the end of the week?” But hey, I ended up getting out in 4 days, and didn’t get fired. I’ll bounce back from this and laugh about it later. Everyone parties too hard once in a while, right?

Exhibit C: PentaGone

Landed a position at the Pentagon! (I know, who the hell made this mistake…) I’m working in one of the most important buildings in America. Time to get my shit together once and for all, right? OK, I’ve been at this a few months now and getting the hang of it, I can relax. Couple late nights here, few hangovers there… Thank god for stimulants to get through the day. Friday rolls around, I haven’t slept in four days. I’ll just sit on this bench for a minute… Wait, why is there a firetruck in the Pentagon courtyard? “Yes sir, I’m fine I swear – I just fell asleep. You’re holding up four fingers.” Crapcrapcrap did a fire truck seriously come for me at the freaking Pentagon?! Ok, keep calm and go back to the office where no-one knows what happened. Shit, I can’t keep calm, my exhaustion and stress are brewing into the perfect…. panic attack . In front of everyone in the office (of course, the one day everyone is here). But hey, I once again avoided getting fired and my colleagues are being nice about it. We all have bad days, right?

Exhibit D: Fake Victoria 

Now that the Pentagon incident happened, I should be much more wary of myself, right? Naw, I’m good. Let me just finish this Vodka and go to 7-11 instead. Wait, where is my purse? Where is my phone, credit card, debit card, etc? Why am I running so frantically? Well it’s probably fine. What’s the worst that could have happened anyways? “Hi Dad, no I didn’t text you Saturday asking for your credit card number and my full social. I lost my phone Friday…” Why is my Amazon account processing purchases for a balaclava and a weave? Why am I getting Uber receipts for rides I didn’t order, even after I deactivated my phone? Why is “Fake Victoria” still texting my dad  (pretending to be me) saying “Daddy it’s cold, send Lyft”? But hey, I managed to block all my cards, cancel the weave purchases and get a new phone/phone number. Everyone gets the occasional imposter texting your parents and compromising your identity, right?

 

Exhibit E: New Year, new me.

Can’t wait for 2019! 2018 basically sucked. Thank god I have a symbolic fresh start given the new year, right? Can’t wait to kiss my boyfriend at midnight and go skiing on January 1. Let me just pre-game this New Year’s Eve party as I get ready. OK I’m pretty tipsy, but I’m sure I won’t overdo it at the party. Whoa how is it the morning already? Why am I waking up on a strangers couch? Where is my boyfriend? WTF happened last night? “Hey babe, yes I’m alive. Wait, I did WHAT last night?! I kissed who?! I threw WHAT out the window of your car?!” Well, it was New Years Eve after all. You’re supposed to get a free “shitshow” pass, right?

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Despite being in a psych ward, having a panic attack at the Pentagon, and having my identity essentially stolen, I’ve convinced myself that I’m fine. Despite freaking out everyone that I care about countless times, I’ve convinced myself that I’m fine. Despite all of the moral and physical hangovers I’ve experienced, I’ve convinced myself that I’m fine.

The truth is that if it weren’t for my amazing support system, I would probably be in a cult, part of a human trafficking ring, or dead in a ditch. In other words, I would most certainly not be “fine”.

Rock bottom is a selfish place to hangout. My personal rock bottom is a place where I no longer internalize my actions and how they affect others.  If anyone I remotely cared about shared the above stories with me, I would be highly concerned. But for whatever reason, I have a hard time truly understanding why my loved ones are worried about me. I guess it’s because I can’t seem to worry about myself.

Upon hearing about the New Year’s incident, my amazing father and sister immediately flew out to DC and basically held an intervention. At first, I was my normal defensive self (“stop overreacting, I’m fine!”). After some processing however, I realized that I can’t expect those I care about to stick around if I don’t try and better myself. In fact, I would advise them not to stick around. I know firsthand how emotionally taxing it is to care about someone with psychological or substance abuse issues, especially if they aren’t willing to admit them/take action. I also realized that I am so sick of getting in the way of my own life.

Greetings from rock bottom. Although this has been quite a unique experience, on January 25 I will be heading to my next destination– rehab.