2:59 pm
And distract myself, I DO do well!
I just found that the Met is open late tonight; there is nothing like wandering around galleries of old Greek busts and glass-encased Egyptian ceramics to make me feel like I’m…somewhere else. Plus, it’s gotta be better than enduring what I think is some 95-degree heat. (Although, I’m disappointed with my irritation by what I usually adore: hot and humid weather. Ugh. If I was drinking, I KNOW I’d feel more excited by this heat…and I’m not sure how this is in any way a rational conclusion, but it feels right to me!)
I know I will still want to drink when I get home. Right now, however, I’m grateful to be moving forward, mentally. I’m not sure if it’s like this for others, but the type of panicky thoughts I was just having come out of a messy brain, an ill-focused one. I can almost feel my brain shuffling around, flapping in the breeze. If I drink — I know from experience — it’s just going to dissolve whatever remaining order there is up there, turn it into a mass of burning jello. If I don’t, I have some hope of actually THINKING my way out of the darkness, out of the disorder, into a calmer, more focused, less…willy nilly/loose state of mind. Hard to explain, but maybe better said as: Drinking will make me feel more helpless, more anxious, more depressed. Drinking will make it worse. Sigh. This, unfortunately, is the new reality, the new truth. Truth evolves, just like us. Hmm. Deep thought of the day, kids.
Off to the Met. And maybe Central Park. Where it would be SO nice to have a glass of chilled red wine in… Sigh.
Drunky Drunk Girl 
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