Steve O wrote a Myspace blog again addressing his current mental state. He basically wrote a realllly long blog about being fed alcohol as an infant.
Read the full blog below:
You Should All Know I Am In Rehab
A) HOW I GOT INTO ALCOHOL AND DRUGS
1) Mom was very alcoholic, and I feel that is a gross understatement. I’d love to say that I first took to alcohol out of affection for my mother (there was never any shortage of that for me) but I think the truth is that I was always powerless over it. I know I was always powerless over alcoholism, because it had such a grip on Mom’s adulthood and my childhood, and I never chose to fight it. Until now. Dad was a corporate executive whose job required the family to travel the world fairly extensively and both Mom and Dad were quite self conscious of how they were perceived by others. We were frequently on airplanes and, before Mom and Dad would find themselves in the embarrassing position of being caught by other passengers with a crying baby, I was fed alcohol. Obviously I don’t have recollections from the time when I was a baby, so this account is pieced together from vague memories of being told stories that are similar or exactly the same. Mom’s alcoholism truly reared its ugly head when I was eight and nine years old, it was in 1983 that she lied to the family about having lymph node cancer so that she would have an explanation for staying in bed drunk at all hours. I forgave my Mom very easily for her act of dishonesty, my love for her was unconditional. At this point in my life I find myself hoping that I will be able to forgive myself for similarly selfish acts that my own addiction led me to commit. I can’t believe I just called out my own dead Mom for what’s surely the worst lie she ever told. I also can’t believe I ever picked up my first drink on my own after the way alcohol ruined her life. God, I miss my Mom. I think I was eight years old when I was introduced to the family tradition of children partaking in an alcoholic beverage of their choice, just one, only on New Year’s Eve, each year. I think it was right away that I knew I wasn’t interested in beer, rather that I wanted scotch whiskey. I can’t really remember, after all, what alcoholic remembers the first drink they picked up. The first time I vomited from truly drinking "too much" alcohol, I was twelve years old, that I’m quite sure of. I’m also quite sure that everything I remember taking interest in from childhood, and onwards, I poured myself into with an unhealthy "excessive/compulsive’ attitude about it. Baseball. Heavy metal music. Skateboarding. Drinking. Drugs. Oh yeah, and the video camera...
2) I didn’t first try marijuana (it was actually hash the first time) because I randomly bumped into it. I tried it because I had made a decision to find it. I tried it again the day after that, as I recall, and, I believe the next day as well. Overnight, when I had just turned sixteen years old, I became a "stoner/druggie." Shortly thereafter, I was taking LSD on a regular basis. It was my prerogative to try just about any drug I could get my hands on. It is not my intention to glorify my history as a drug abuser with elaborate stories about having sex in lavatories on airplanes after snorting amphetamines off the toilet at the tender age of seventeen. I will simply say that when I was interviewed about it all upon checking into this rehab facility, it became frighteningly clear to me how lucky I am to still have any chance whatsoever at leading a happy, fulfilling, and meaningful life. I am so lucky, there is no doubt in my mind that I have a Higher Power that is incredibly interested in me succeeding.
B) ATTEMPTS TO CONTROL MY ALCOHOL/DRUG USE
1) The first time I made an effort to stop drinking, because I was an alcoholic, I was eighteen years old. I recall looking up Alcoholics Anonymous, but not making it to any meetings, and after, perhaps (I can’t remember exactly), nineteen days of not drinking, back to back, doing the same number of vodka shots back to back. Mom forced me into a rehab facility when I was twenty years old (she was sober at the time, I was in jail, and going to rehab was my only chance to see sunlight before court). Sobriety lasted for two and a half months after the sun’s rays met my face, and it ended as brutally as it had when I was eighteen.
To read the rest of the blog click here.
Lisa
