Losing the battle: Drugs and Compulsive Sex

Iron Boys

This image is for illustration purpose only

A fit body should not define our destiny.

I’m no saint – I don’t even come close – so take what I say with a grain of salt. But as a writer, I am compelled to share what I have learned about problems we all share: Occasionally I can’t sleep. I fall in love. I fall in hate. Sometimes both. Life has a way of taking us up as well as down, but isn’t that the coolest part? I give you my word to testify, as realistically as possible, about my dialogue with the unknown….

Like many of my generation, I consider myself ironclad – invincible almost, armed with a high self esteem, walking disguised as a superhero, when in reality I’m just a fragile person who is lost, and has no idea which way to go to get out. Inside of me, there are two fierce lions that battling all the time, Good versus Evil. Do you know which one will win?

Whichever one I feed the most.

**********

It was one of the usual “must go” circuit parties.  Half of the Facebook/Instagram socialites were present, out to see and be seen – like some ancient medieval festival, where members of the french court used to appear in order to promote themselves, garner favor, exchange glances, do business, etc. But as the world "evolved," the party goers in tailcoats and flamboyant dresses gave way to shirtless, fit bodies. Noble titles were substituted for zip codes (it’s all about where you live), decorative fans were replaced by "poker faces," and the dealers... Well, better to continue with the story.

So there I was, out with some friends enjoying the night, when suddenly ...

“Hold him!”

A boy – very handsome, by the way – fell flat on the floor right in front of us. This caused an instant ruckus, as many did not know whether they should help the boy or just get out of the way. There was no doubt that he had overdosed on drugs – he had come face to face with his limit. The crowd gave way, I felt a strong beam of light in my face and people in white were approaching. No, they were not angels – they were paramedics.

That scene was burned into my memory. I kept thinking to myself, trying to understand: why do we test the limits of our bodies? Why do we venture into the shadowy places? What are we looking to find there? In reality, they serve to entertain us only briefly, and in the end we find that our mind has been gradually sickened along the way. Why do we seek out so many ways to harm ourselves, opening doors to dangerous places, trying new and crazy things just to try them, until the Apocalypse arrives?

What is the purpose of this life? What role are we to play?

These questions reverberated through my mind like as the boy was dragged out by the paramedics. Truly, it was horrible scene witness sober – being high on drugs might be the only way to see it as anything like a “normal” situation.

It is degrading this lifestyle cycle (endless strict diet - thousands of supplements – hours after hours in the gym, drugs, parties, sex parties). Always the same thing as if we were walking in a circle. And for what? To be happy? Are we?

For some reason now it became a routine for young people to lose their lives to drugs – in the middle of the dance floor. In the past there was a certain embarrassement, condecending looks, a disguised discrimination, the ‘Stay away from bad companies' used to hammer in our unconscious. But today it has become fashionable to challenge our body immunity, to try these and more of those (all the cool hot people take it, right?! I want two then!). After all, are we invincible iron boys, or merely mortals?

'Do you know so-and-so? He died on that party.

Oh my God, are you serious? He was so young and beautiful ... '

Then you suddenly see dozens of r.i.p posts popping up on your timeline, inbox messages and even some gossip. But no one talks openly about the cause of it, only condolances and sharing the pain as their own. Once this is finished they keep managing their lives the same way, right on style "This will not happen to me."

The passed out party hunk, who was a few minutes between life and death, rose from the ashes like a phoenix. An unprecedented scene. He was more lucid than ever. It was amazing how his skin was fresher and his body fitter with the six packs screaming. After all, the show must go on.

Although the body apparently appeared to be “back in place”, his soul was certainly lost, confused, without the slightest interest in understand what just had happened, because it was day after day taunted by depression and suicidal tendencies. To overdose you don´t need to eat drugs with a spoon, a simple tryout dose can wave you good bye ! It's about the body's ability to be able to process that specific amount at that time.

We are not made of iron. Matter of fact, our bodies are so fragile and influenced by our minds that most of the diseases come from unhappiness, which is concealed most of the time by a wide smile or a successful image that actually hides a overworked stressful and lonely life, nothing more than fake propaganda that we insist in displaying to cover a non interesting life.

It is time to put on the armor, kill the dragons of insecurity, defeat the evil knights who consume us with grace, plunge the sword on the monster who wisper the temptations in our ears and definitely feed the good lion. We need to seek light, strengthen our spirit with inner peace.

When you are by yourself reading a book, listening to music, admiring a landscape ... can you be happy with just that? Or you get anxious looking for anything to fill in the emptiness and to justify your whole life?

Emotional reeducation.

Yes, it is difficult to accept that happiness can be achieved only through hard work on yourself.  Slowly but surely, with small daily acts and choices we fix some problems that started in childhood, tighten some loose screws that keep our mind in chaos, with therapy put an end to this feeling of emptiness that lead us to make terrible mistakes and – if it is necessary - do a surgery in our soul, because a fit body should not define our destiny.

This article was published in my column “Meninos de Ferro” in Brazil reaching more than 100.000 access in 24 hours..

Bruno de Abreu Rangel

brunorangelbrazil@hotmail.com