wisp
Member
- Oct 19, 2023
- 65
1) He who fights against monsters must guard against becoming a monster himself. 2) And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.
Nietzsche was most probably referring to this sentence, in becoming like the people we have become today.
I personally got into redpill as a joke several years ago, then I got into it and I'm not sure how either. Same with substances, like coke or alcohol, you start as a joke, for fun, then you get immersed.
And it's alcohol that I'd like to talk about, that was my friend for a long time and deluded me into thinking I had my life in my hands.
Let's take a step back, I got to know spirits when I was really little, probably not even 13 years old. At the end of dinner with relatives, I was already being given bitter as a 'digestif' and I was already hooked on limoncello (especially an artisanal one that family friends made).
An Overton window that marked me later in early adulthood, but I'll get to that in a moment.
After a bad episode with limoncello, my very first drunkenness I stopped for a couple of years (I don't remember how old I was, but I was such a child), until 16/17 where I started drinking beer every Saturday at home alone in front of a movie. All in the norm.
When I was 18 my parents started giving me a hard time about not having any friends, they teased me about never having had a girlfriend and even my aunt thought I was a repressed gay man. Guests would come to the house and while I was locked in, my mother would tell family friends 'whatever, he's depressed anyway', I was constantly humiliated. My brother's friends came to the house and my bitch mother started to make me feel more and more lonely, teasing me in front of my brother's friends 'if you let him down I'll leave you money for cigarettes' between laughs.
I was constantly in my pyjamas, I was no longer comfortable even at home.
The beers started doubling every week, until I decided to go out with my brother's friends to be the mascot of the group and be made fun of in his group as well. This was so I wouldn't have to stay at home with the constant pounding in my head from my father "get out of the house" "get out of the house and take a walk", it was getting heavy, he would come into the room without knocking and catch me jerking off. He even sent me a message on WhatsApp "stop with the porn", really humiliating.
Those outings marked me, I was baptised with the blue angel in the little bars downtown. I was really well, I no longer thought about the pain I felt, the existential suffering and the weight of my parents who hammered and humiliated me from morning to night every day.
From that point I started hanging out with that group, even though they knew they were bullshitting me because I knew we were going drinking during the evening. At the time I thought it was embarrassing to drink alone at the bar like a depressive.
The group broke up, but the habits remained. Now for ne the bar was my new home, I used to go there and get drunk alone at the weekend. Then it started to no longer be enough for me, once a week is really not enough, I had to increase. From one I went to two, from two to three, until I got to the point where I was constantly at the bar drinking.
I used to tell my parents that I was going out with friends, but instead I was alone, even in the rain, going to the bar to drink.
One evening I remember well the owner, who saw me there every day, asked me the same question every night, 'but your friends?' and I said, 'yes, they are coming,' then there were no friends. That evening he told me loud and clear that he didn't want to see me in his bar any more, because I was young, I could be his son and he understood that I was going through a bad time.
I coldly replied 'I go to the bar across the street anyway'. I still remember it, in hindsight (months passed) I understood that he said it for my own good.
In the end I didn't go to the bar across the street, I bought a bottle of Gin and a bottle of Jack at the supermarket, took them home and hid them in the cupboard inside some abandoned boxes. Before drinking I used to put the bottle in the freezer for a few minutes and then take it out and drink chilled alcohol. I didn't realise, however, that my mother came home early from work and to put down the ice she had in her lunch cooler, she uncovered the bottles of alcohol.
From there I asked to go to therapy to overcome the alcoholism now inherent in my character. I was addicted to it and I am not sure if I was really aware of it, but now I know for sure. Therapy helped me a lot to vent my agitated state, I kept too many things inside that I had to throw out, emphasised by alcohol. I drank even before going to therapy and the psychologist realised this, told me I should not do it any more if I really wanted to deal with the problem, so I avoided it when I had to go to her.
Therapy helped me, I also joined a gym and the icing on the cake was a friend of mine who contacted me after years and told me he wanted to go down to the group and had a girl for me to meet. That girl became my girlfriend and I lost my virginity to her.
After a long time I finished the gym, she and I broke up and I also finished therapy.
I started taking training courses first in IT (out of passion), then I saw that there were no real outlets (here in the south it's niche stuff) and so I decided to take the warehouse worker course.
I've had two work experiences, the last one ended in July and from there I was left with no money. I keep sending constantly updated CVs, but nobody calls me, nobody seems interested. I also took the HACCP course to be included in the basic warehouse worker course, but nothing.
So I decided to go back to a redpill-themed forum to see what was being said (I used to frequent it during the pandemic period), but I learned that a user had died by suicide. A world opened up to me, thanks to this news I discovered a forum (where I am still subscribed) and started lurking there too until I decided to join.
And here I am, again with an emotional breakdown. My thoughts oscillate between going back to drinking or killing myself in the same way as that user. Why go back to drinking?
I am starting to have a glass of wine at the table again, but the thought that I would like another one during the day makes me sick.
I don't want to get addicted again, but I also don't want to continue living with this emotional breakdown. Maybe I am just looking for a reason not to kill myself, yet it would be so easy.
Nietzsche was most probably referring to this sentence, in becoming like the people we have become today.
I personally got into redpill as a joke several years ago, then I got into it and I'm not sure how either. Same with substances, like coke or alcohol, you start as a joke, for fun, then you get immersed.
And it's alcohol that I'd like to talk about, that was my friend for a long time and deluded me into thinking I had my life in my hands.
Let's take a step back, I got to know spirits when I was really little, probably not even 13 years old. At the end of dinner with relatives, I was already being given bitter as a 'digestif' and I was already hooked on limoncello (especially an artisanal one that family friends made).
An Overton window that marked me later in early adulthood, but I'll get to that in a moment.
After a bad episode with limoncello, my very first drunkenness I stopped for a couple of years (I don't remember how old I was, but I was such a child), until 16/17 where I started drinking beer every Saturday at home alone in front of a movie. All in the norm.
When I was 18 my parents started giving me a hard time about not having any friends, they teased me about never having had a girlfriend and even my aunt thought I was a repressed gay man. Guests would come to the house and while I was locked in, my mother would tell family friends 'whatever, he's depressed anyway', I was constantly humiliated. My brother's friends came to the house and my bitch mother started to make me feel more and more lonely, teasing me in front of my brother's friends 'if you let him down I'll leave you money for cigarettes' between laughs.
I was constantly in my pyjamas, I was no longer comfortable even at home.
The beers started doubling every week, until I decided to go out with my brother's friends to be the mascot of the group and be made fun of in his group as well. This was so I wouldn't have to stay at home with the constant pounding in my head from my father "get out of the house" "get out of the house and take a walk", it was getting heavy, he would come into the room without knocking and catch me jerking off. He even sent me a message on WhatsApp "stop with the porn", really humiliating.
Those outings marked me, I was baptised with the blue angel in the little bars downtown. I was really well, I no longer thought about the pain I felt, the existential suffering and the weight of my parents who hammered and humiliated me from morning to night every day.
From that point I started hanging out with that group, even though they knew they were bullshitting me because I knew we were going drinking during the evening. At the time I thought it was embarrassing to drink alone at the bar like a depressive.
The group broke up, but the habits remained. Now for ne the bar was my new home, I used to go there and get drunk alone at the weekend. Then it started to no longer be enough for me, once a week is really not enough, I had to increase. From one I went to two, from two to three, until I got to the point where I was constantly at the bar drinking.
I used to tell my parents that I was going out with friends, but instead I was alone, even in the rain, going to the bar to drink.
One evening I remember well the owner, who saw me there every day, asked me the same question every night, 'but your friends?' and I said, 'yes, they are coming,' then there were no friends. That evening he told me loud and clear that he didn't want to see me in his bar any more, because I was young, I could be his son and he understood that I was going through a bad time.
I coldly replied 'I go to the bar across the street anyway'. I still remember it, in hindsight (months passed) I understood that he said it for my own good.
In the end I didn't go to the bar across the street, I bought a bottle of Gin and a bottle of Jack at the supermarket, took them home and hid them in the cupboard inside some abandoned boxes. Before drinking I used to put the bottle in the freezer for a few minutes and then take it out and drink chilled alcohol. I didn't realise, however, that my mother came home early from work and to put down the ice she had in her lunch cooler, she uncovered the bottles of alcohol.
From there I asked to go to therapy to overcome the alcoholism now inherent in my character. I was addicted to it and I am not sure if I was really aware of it, but now I know for sure. Therapy helped me a lot to vent my agitated state, I kept too many things inside that I had to throw out, emphasised by alcohol. I drank even before going to therapy and the psychologist realised this, told me I should not do it any more if I really wanted to deal with the problem, so I avoided it when I had to go to her.
Therapy helped me, I also joined a gym and the icing on the cake was a friend of mine who contacted me after years and told me he wanted to go down to the group and had a girl for me to meet. That girl became my girlfriend and I lost my virginity to her.
After a long time I finished the gym, she and I broke up and I also finished therapy.
I started taking training courses first in IT (out of passion), then I saw that there were no real outlets (here in the south it's niche stuff) and so I decided to take the warehouse worker course.
I've had two work experiences, the last one ended in July and from there I was left with no money. I keep sending constantly updated CVs, but nobody calls me, nobody seems interested. I also took the HACCP course to be included in the basic warehouse worker course, but nothing.
So I decided to go back to a redpill-themed forum to see what was being said (I used to frequent it during the pandemic period), but I learned that a user had died by suicide. A world opened up to me, thanks to this news I discovered a forum (where I am still subscribed) and started lurking there too until I decided to join.
And here I am, again with an emotional breakdown. My thoughts oscillate between going back to drinking or killing myself in the same way as that user. Why go back to drinking?
I am starting to have a glass of wine at the table again, but the thought that I would like another one during the day makes me sick.
I don't want to get addicted again, but I also don't want to continue living with this emotional breakdown. Maybe I am just looking for a reason not to kill myself, yet it would be so easy.
