More Than My Vices?

My Dark Side (Picture from Pinterest)

What is the foundation of a person’s being? Their attitude? Their virtues? Their passion? Is ethics alone enough to live a fulfilling life? When I was young, I was told yes. That if I were ethical and virtuous, I would live a contented life, free of stress, by walking a straight path forward. But what if my being is shaped instead by my vices? Even as a child, before I could call myself an independent thinker, I sensed that my flaws defined me more than my virtues. That is who I am, and who I have become. Yet am I satisfied with it? Am I at peace because of it? I am just a girl who has fallen off the deep end more than once, and I ask myself: Why do I have so little control over my being? When did my vices take center stage? How can I grow from the person I am today, and how do I stop myself from becoming a disappointment?

There is a difference between a person who lacks morals and a person who lacks self-discipline. My task is to figure out what I lack. To me, being immoral means having no sense of right and wrong, as someone who does not know better can’t do better. Am I that way? No. I knew what I did was wrong. I knew, even as I pursued my actions, that they would have consequences, and they would not be pretty. Yet I did it again, and again, and again. That is how my addiction returned. I didn’t feel good while doing it; in fact, I was painfully conscious of it. Yet I didn’t stop. Why? All the judgments in my mind became fickle, drowned out by the intoxicating rush that drove me to do what I myself believed was wrong. I was fully aware, and yet I kept going. And still, I ask: why did I not stop? 

A person with self-discipline can monitor their actions and firmly stop themselves from doing what is wrong. But why am I unable to stop? I can hold myself accountable after the fact, yet what is accountability worth if I don’t learn from my mistakes? Time after time, this addiction returns to me like a stubborn mold on my soul, and each time I face it, I lose the war. It doesn’t matter whether I am eight, twelve, or twenty-two; the battle always feels the same. Am I so consumed by my vices that my mind assumes I can’t find that rush anywhere else? And more importantly, is the rush even worth it? No, it isn’t. Not this rush: the one that leaves me hopeless and helpless, the one that eats away at me because I knew I should not do it. If I were disciplined enough, I could have stopped myself. And there the confession is: I lack discipline, not morality. How could I lack morals? I grew up where honesty was the only expectation, yet honesty didn’t always bring comfort. The uneasiness in my mind came from a nurture that rejected my actions, while my nature believed this was the only way to get more out of life. 

But was life not enough for me that I began chasing the mind rush of my wrongdoings? I was always provided for and taken care of, yet I was never spared from consequences. So why do I feel like a king when I commit these acts, even as I know I am not immune to the poison they spread through my mind? The truth is, I cannot say no to myself. My being has been poisoned by my vices, and while I search for antidotes, I fear the poison has spread too far within my heart. I know I should stop, but perhaps acknowledging these vices is the first step toward healing. The only certainty I have is that these addictions define my foundations, and that I once tried to shape myself so I would not be drawn to them again. But now that I have fallen off the deep end once more, I see myself crumpled on the floor. Maybe that is what I want,  or what I need. Shattered on the ground, I might finally rebuild myself with a stronger mind that keeps me away from this addiction. I have a chance to start anew. But can I ever be someone more than my vices?