Dissecting the Determinants of Self-Destructive Desires

Today I'm considering the phenomenon of craving certain self-destructive behaviours and whether this is driven by an urge to indirectly harm one's self, or is driven by other urges that promote behaviours which happen to be self-destructive. 

In my last post, I commented briefly on masochistic behaviour and its relation to unnecessary suffering. Once again, here I'm talking about lesser forms of suffering. I'm not talking about real suffering, but first world issues that we create in lieu of real problems. 

This post is not meant to be a generalisation, but an analysis of a part of this problem. I'll highlight an example of what I'm considering, which is also the reason I wrote this post. 

A couple of months ago I was sitting in my man cave drinking whiskey by myself (it's a hobby). I decided to watch a movie called Filth. You can see from the poster roughly what this was about. The main character, played brilliantly by James McAvoy, is plagued with memories from his past and is driving himself into a drug and alcohol induced mess of self-destruction and fear. He quickly forms into a narcissistic, shameless, paranoid and delusional soul living by the skin of his teeth. 

I don't know how other people have felt while watching this movie, but it really impacted me. At the end of the movie my head was spinning and I had to catch my breath. I've never experienced that after a movie. I had only had two small glasses of whiskey over the course of the movie, but I felt thoroughly intoxicated. 

The most notable thing, however, was during the worst scenes of narcotic and alcohol self abuse. I felt a pang of envy and a desire to do the same - even as the movie unfolded into the shitstorm that was becoming his life. I wanted to do the same destructive, extreme shit and push things beyond all reasonable levels. 

Sure, this was only a desire, and I didn't act on it. Yet, I found myself wondering later on where this stems from. Is this really self-destructive, or is there something else at play here? I'm pretty sure I want to improve my life and not fuck it up completely, so why am I so drawn to an obviously destructive path?

One thought is that it's out of a desire for excitement, adventure and experience. I get the feeling that people who push themselves to the brink obtain an outlook on life that makes everyday shit much easier - assuming they make it through in one piece. But then again, perhaps they're just numb?

And anyway, if that's the goal of fucking myself up, why don't I focus on pushing myself to the brink in some other way - such as a sport or some sort of academic pursuit? I would take a stab in the dark here and say that this is simply because -

it's easier to get fucked up!

It's the pussy's way out. The easiest way to quench your thirst for excitement is to simply fucking drown it in a distilled fermented grain mash of choice (or whatever's available). 

So could this be the explanation? That I'm simply channeling healthy desires into unhealthy practices? The question then is what causes me to channel them this way?

I guess it's quite a common problem really. An exciting night or weekend for most will involve some sort of alcohol or drug. There's a desire to get fucked up - the taste is not the driving factor. It loosens people up and naturally brings about more exciting events once people let go of their inhibitions. 

Following in the footsteps of the character from Filth is simply an extreme exaggeration of this behaviour. But surely there's something that provokes this exaggeration - some underlying cause. 

I assume this stems from one's internal demons (I'm not religious, but the term is fitting). The persistent feelings, memories, questions and pains that everyone deals with to some degree. If these are not dealt with properly - recognised, confronted, and put in their place - they can begin to overcome and overwhelm. Spreading like a cancer on the inside. 

You crave a poison to kill the cancer. To numb the pain. Knowing that it will kill you if you don't kill it first. The risk to your body is insignificant, knowing that you will cease to exist if it overruns you completely. 

The poison also acts as a sedative. Numbing your feelings and allowing you to function in day-to-day life. To appear normal. To appear stable. But it's only temporary. It's only a cover, an act. You fear that people will discover the truth if they get to know you too well or look too deeply into your eyes. Don't open up. Don't get close. Don't let them inside. 

Then there are the real remedies. Family. People who are there for you, and perhaps more importantly, need you to be there for them. They give you a reason to keep going and to take it easy on the poison. If you fail yourself, you fail them all. 

I notice this when I'm alone. Rare times of respite from work and family which should be used to relax and recover. I plan what I'll do with my free time and feel excited about it. Then, as soon as they leave, I'm blank and empty. I don't want to do anything an don't even want to do nothing. The craving for the poison comes back. 

All of this sounds dark as fuck and is actually hard not to delete at this stage. But really I'll try to take an optimistic standpoint for a change. 

Although the self destructive desires are lingering within and trying to get out - I've already recognised them. I've identified and labelled them and am trying to understand them. I think this is a good first step. I haven't acted on these urges in too significant a way as of yet and have kept a degree of control. 

I've also recognised what the real remedy is for me. I need to nurture and take care of this above all else.