Black outs

Just this evening I came across a song that brought me back to a place that I had almost forgotten about. The song was "Dancing in the Rain" by Taylor Bennett. It's a very mellow tune with smooth piano accompanied by a soulful chorus of sorts and at one point I very much enjoyed it. However, when I heard the song for the first time in years, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some sort of unpleasant event in my life associated with it. I quickly realized that something had occurred while I was in a black out back in college and this song playing was the only thing I can recall. I'm still currently listening to it, hoping that memories will come flowing back, but on a very shallow level, I know that's not going to happen. Whatever misfortune that occurred with this song in the background is lost to me. It's reminded me that there are countless hours, days, likely even weeks of my life that I'll never be able to recall. Times when I was present, but at the same time I wasn't. Blackouts are something else, they really are. The first time I entered one, I felt as though I was embarking on an adventure. I felt free, I felt uninhibited, and I felt like I was on top of the world. The next day was always a different story of course. But still, on and off for six years, I kept going back to that place. I kept trying to recapture that feeling, that I was absolutely convinced could be recreated. Throughout those years there were an untold number of laughs, mishaps, and stories to be told the next day. However, I'm all too aware that there's also many more shadows that contrast whatever light there may have been at one time. Whenever I think back on those times fondly, I always have to remind myself that there was a dark underside to all the pleasant chaos. I remind myself of the fights, of the tears, of the damaged relationships, of the anger, and of the countless times that I displayed myself as nothing short of an absolute fool. On some level I always knew why I was embarrassed whenever someone told me about something I did in a blackout. It wasn't because I felt that I had acted in a manner that doesn't reflect who I really am, I was humiliated because I was acting as the truest version of myself there is. Inhibitions aren't always a bad thing. They exist for a very important reason, to allow you to use discretion with what aspects of your personality you allow others to see, and shouldn't be cast off hastily. I did that quite a lot, and still hear about it to this day. That's not to say that you need to keep yourself wrapped up indefinitely, it's just important to know the right time and place to allow yourself to be revealed. We all have chaos inside us. We're all a mess in one way or another. We all have primal urges that need to be satiated from time to time. There's nothing wrong with that. But there is something wrong with giving into that chaos consistently. As human beings, we're torn between two sides of our nature; the desire to be civilized, to create, to sustain, and our more animalistic, instinctive, primal side. Finding balance among that duality is one of my most recent goals. Unfortunately that's not a goal that can be indefinitely "achieved", it can only be maintained. In a black out, the animalistic side takes the wheel. The moment I crossed the line into faded obscurity, I resigned my rational thoughts to the back seat, while my "id", as Freud would say, took control of everything. During the early days, that usually involved a lot of parties, fun and laughs, but at the tail end of my drinking years, that ended up entailing a state of miserable madness that nearly took my life. I'm not going to go into terribly deep detail concerning everything that happened in those times since it's unpleasant for me to talk about, and I would imagine, equally unpleasant to read, but yes it was regrettable to say the least. While I don't partake in substances anymore, I've had more than enough experience for a lifetime and all that experience still follows me. Whenever I run into someone from my past, they often bring up something I did back in those days. Unpleasant as it can be to relive all that, it's inevitable. The way I choose to look at it, is as a sort of penance. My sentence is to be reminded of my actions and have to smile and laugh as though I'm unbothered. Looking at so many people I've known, I count myself lucky, because if that's all I have to put up with, I got off pretty damn easy. Far too many people who lived the way I did, aren't so fortunate.