Depression | Drunky Drunk Girl

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So, I fell off the wagon last night…

10:16 pm

…and the same shit that always happens, happened. I drank, blacked out, yelled at/harassed my boyfriend (among other classic “me” moves, like, getting into bed wet from the pool — yes, I went swimming in my blackout in the middle of the fucking night), tried to drink more but luckily, couldn’t get the bottle open, passed out naked on the couch only to wake up and stumble into the bedroom. Woke up with a raging hangover, one that reminded me just how much I HATE hangovers.

Sure, I’m disappointed, but I’m not taking it into tomorrow. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s also made me that much more committed to not letting it happen again.

And, was it even fun? No! I remember feeling…weird, I guess, after the first glass. Dizzy. The second made my brain feel numb, emotionless — quite literally, depressed. The whole point was to make me feel less depressed, and I didn’t even get the buzz! Either it didn’t work or I wouldn’t let myself show it in front of my boyfriend, who tried to stop me from opening the bottle and then had to watch me drink it and wonder how much time he had between that moment and when I’d black out and turn on him… I felt dissociated from myself, as if I was watching myself get drunk, watching myself unable to stop talking, watching myself “play” with the parrot. I remember yelling at my boyfriend for a while, going in for the second bottle (which was half full)…and then I blacked out. Per fucking usual.

The last thing I remember was going in for the white, but not actually drinking it. I don’t remember going for a swim or coming into the bedroom and continually turning the light on and off, talking at and/or yelling at my boyfriend more, passing out naked on the couch, or leaving a used pantyliner in the pool. Eww. I do remember waking up on the couch in the middle of the night and stumbling (literally) into bed, passing out for good.

The hangover sucked, the day was ruined, and I got fuck all done. But, I really do believe that this experience has made me even more committed to not drinking. To being sober. I think I needed to do it, to see if things had changed, to just get it fucking over with. Nothing’s changed, and nothing’s different. It’s not fun, and frankly, I can’t afford to drink anymore. I can’t afford to waste days, I can’t afford to offend my boyfriend and/or waste his time, I can’t afford to go there again, into that dark place. I can’t afford to be spiritually drained like that even one more time! I need light, not dark.

Some points:

1. Triggers. Need To Deal Better. I think my main trigger was the sheer buildup of sobriety! Like, the daily fucking grind of always being sober, never getting a break. Add to that hanging out at the beach all day with drinkers; my boyfriend making comments about other chics that hurt my feelings more than I like to admit; a killer PMS mood swing — well, it’s enough to make anyone succumb. I also spent about three hours on the phone with family the day before and realized that one brother thinks I’ve alienated myself from the family and need to call more and the other is still a long way from forgiving me for my batshit crazy blackout on New Year’s Eve. It just felt like major overload. Can’t I fucking do anything right? Where is MY solace, MY relief, MY release, huh? I don’t smoke weed or pop pills or do any other drugs, so wine is it.

The thing it, it’s not going to go away, life. People drinking and smoking. Job interviews and petty jealousy and family problems and life choices. Death. Mood swings. PMS. They’re all here to stay, drinking doesn’t solve anything or make any of it go away so…the only thing TO DO is to deal with it sober.

2. Hangovers. Still Suck. I am about to go suck down some rooibos tea and then Kill This Fucking Day. The shittiest part about this whole thing is that I wasted a day here, on the island. I had such a sense of accomplishment after a day spent sober, and now, well, I definitely feel like I wasted the day.

3. 60 days minus 1? Or, start the count all over? Bf says start over. I’m not sure how I feel, now that I’ve actually broken my stride. I feel much more practiced at being sober now, so I think it’ll be fairly easy to get back on the wagon. I mean, I could have killed myself if I had passed out in the pool. A family friend did just that, at 28 years old. I thought mostly about that today, not about my 60 days and the “game” of counting days. It’s not a game, it’s my life.

4. Next goal: being sober and not just “not drinking.”

I’m disappointed, but tomorrow’s another day to forgive and forget, right? Sigh.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, cravings, depression, drinking, hangover, social anxiety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholic, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Hangover

Of dopamine and security blankets…

9 Aug

2:30 am

I bought a bottle of red wine today, the first time in over two months, and got it chillin’ in the fridge… But I hope to God(dess) that I don’t drink it! Do I like to torture myself? Am I really that much of a masochist? Apparently so.

Yup, I broke down and actually purchased a bottle of red wine tonight at Kmart (of all places, and a shitty $7 bottle at that!). OH, NO! Oh, yes. BUT, I made it past the craving or whatever it was today (severe PMS bipolar dip?) that made/allowed me to buy it and cart it home, so that’s good. I got distracted, I guess.

Did it help to get that bottle? What purpose is it serving if in the end, I choose NOT to drink it? Well, for one, it makes me feel excited. I recently watched a doc or something on TV about the neuroscience of addiction, and how people can’t, actually, say no to drugs and booze when they’re addicted. Why? Their dopamine circuits are too fucked up, and that is difficult — and deeply seated — brain chemistry to ignore. The interesting part for me was when the expert said that addicts will get a buzz just anticipating the using and boozing, and that the buzz is real. Yeah? Yeah. In fact, I’ve experienced that! It’s like, a total high from just anticipating, planning, looking forward to drinking.

When I bought the bottle, it wasn’t as huge as it might have been eight weeks ago, but a weight was lifted from my mind and chest (literally, my heart aches for red wine!) — I felt lighter, happier, excited about drinking. I had something to look forward to! Indeed, I might even become funnier, crazier, sexier, younger — or, at least, identify with that old (and DELUSIONAL) emotional self I constructed around drinking red wine. Point being, I’ve felt this anticipation and excitement before, just from having begun the planning process of drinking. My mood was noticeably altered.

I also did it to provide some kind of relief, solace, sense of security. Shit, whatever it takes, right? I know, it’s dangerous, but there’s a lot of booze in this house that I’m house-sitting for, and I haven’t touched a drop. And, the reason is not just cuz I don’t want to break my sober stride, but I also don’t want to have to deal with the fucking drama of replacing booze that may be expensive or have sentimental value for the owner. Been there, fucking done that. So, I’m learning to rationally apply what I’ve learned from my mistakes while drinking to my sober choices…at least up until this afternoon at the checkout in the big K.

It’s just grapes, my bad angel says. Just one glass.

The good angel’s getting better at holding her own, though. Why do it to yourself? Do you really need the buzz when half of it comes from just buying the bottle and bringing it home? Come ON, it’s shit wine, are you really going to go out on cheap red? What if, like last time you drank after being sober for a few weeks, you didn’t even get drunk, you just felt…weird? Will breaking your stride before you hit 90 days be worth it over four glasses of bad red wine? What about everyone who says you can’t do it (yourself included), friends who think you’re a drunk and always will be a drunk and are just waiting for you to slip up and start drinking again? Don’t you want to prove them wrong? What about your 57 days, your self-respect, winning the game?

(Sigh. So many thoughts for just one bottle of red wine…)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, cravings, depression, drinking, sobriety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Psychology, Sobriety, Uncategorized

Feel like…drinkin’

6 Aug

1:23 am

Yup, that about sums it up. And, man, after the past few days of feeling frustrated and glum, it’s really hard not to say, Aww, come on, now, just one little glass of wine. You DESERVE it…

Sigh. I wish it were that simple, but it’s not. And that’s the most frustrating part. I want the quick fix. Bad feelings be gone! Dark moods/thoughts exit my brain! Please, just let me be. Instead, it’s constant, a permanent buzz. Last night, my brain took a nosedive into dark terre — this place that feels VERY bleak, empty, and motionless. It’s like my brain is being held under water in a dark pool, like every part has been switched off except the brainstem. I feel so lethargic, and depressed. There is nothing to do and no reason or rationale to do it. Life is pointless, and even if there is a fucking point, I won’t be told what it is or I am incapable of knowing. Sure, I could assume that I know — meditation, yoga — but really, isn’t that just a way to manipulate your mind and body into a state of calm embrace of the mystery instead of this screaming, abject horror at the absurdity?

Yeah, it’s DEFINITELY one of the reasons I drank, episodes like this. Lately, in the past many years, I’d turn to wine to deal. This time, I finally forced myself to wait it out. After, oh, about an hour, the worst of it had passed. I felt like I could breathe on my own again, and my mind started to open up, my pupils dilating enough to let in some light.

I’m glad I made it through that. However, I’m getting tired of it. Tired of having to simply fight the mind, day in and day out. It’s why I drank, and I’m not sure if it’s normal to feel this way, on varying levels, all day every day. But, I’ve had much worse depression/depressive episodes in my life, so I’d say it’s one, life in general, two, sobriety, or three, the daily grind of dealing quietly with my mood swings that is simply Getting To Me. I’d LOVE to take my brain out of my head and dunk it in a vat of red wine! Don’t even need or want to feel drunk, just want this anguish, I guess, to go away. At least for a little while. 😦

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, depression, panic, sobriety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Depression, Sobriety

Distractions are the best part about being sober, says Drunky Drunk Girl

6 Jul

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.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, cravings, depression, drinking, Met, panic, sobriety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Sobriety

It’s not a zero sum game, but still…

6 Jul

2:40 pm

LIFE WAS/IS BETTER WITH WINE, I’ve concluded.

I’m crying, and I guess it’s to be expected. I was wondering when it was going to hit me, this sobriety thing. And on top of it all, I feel lonely in this…thing I’m doing. Quite lonely. Lonely in the sense that when I come out of it, I’m not going to be able to relate the experience to others, thereby making me feel even more isolated, more at odds with “normal” people.

Sure, I’ve cried before drinking, during, and after; I’ve cried with booze and without it. BUT, last night, and today, as I sit here and think back to my oldest friend finally getting hitched this weekend after 15 years of dating, my other oldest best friend expecting her second child, as I read on FB about another writer friend who’s just published a book, all I can do is say, Fuck me, what have I done wrong?

As one of my writer friends here tells me, It’s not a zero sum game. And I know that. But, I can’t deny that some days I feel the heat… Maybe I’m just not good enough? Maybe I suck at this journalism thing, this writing thing? When it’s what I’ve built my life on, succeeded in up until now, I have a hard time accepting that, let alone embracing it. What writer wouldn’t?

If I’m honest, I would sit down and make a list of everything I’ve accomplished in my life, everything I have to be grateful for, and just shut the fuck up about it. BUT…I can’t help but throw up my hands and scream, I could have written that book! I could have pitched that story! But, I’m not doing any of that at the moment. And I continue to waste what little time I have left (last night was hard; all I could think about was that I’m on the downswing of life, that I’m exiting this game…)…

I used to have wine to calm me down, to help take the sadness away, the edge of insanity off these consuming thoughts. WHICH ARE TRUTH, and which I CANNOT IGNORE OR PRETEND DON’T EXIST. Yet, I acknowledge them, don’t I? They are what make me feel sad and depressed as well as what allow me to justify drinking. And so, why not? Why, if I acknowledge them, if I go through the work — a sleepless night, a lonely, weepy afternoon — can’t I drink afterward?

I really want to drink. Am I simply being too harsh, too black-and-white, too “AA” about it? Putting myself through this sobriety bullshit when what I really need is to chill the fuck out, have a glass of wine, and be a “normal” 38-year-old? Normal in that, well, it’s NORMAL to feel like you’re a failure when all your friends are writing books, traveling the globe as intrepid reporters, starting magazines and families and lives; and you’re doing what you perceive to be as nothing. Right? I don’t know.

Fuck being sober. It’s WORSE than being a wino. …I guess.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, cravings, depression, drinking, insomnia, sobriety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Insomnia, Sobriety

14 days sober and I’m pissed, says Drunky drunk girl

26 Jun

11:18 pm

And I shouldn’t be! I should be seeing rainbows and unicorns, but I’m seeing red. Well, pink. I chalk it up to the anger not subsiding but getting stronger during this strange phase of withdrawal, exacerbated by my agitation and annoyance at having to grind it out every fucking day. No drinky makes Drunky Drunk Girl pissy.

First, let me tell you that I do applaud myself. I do appreciate that it’s getting easier, if only easier to resist the nightly (and sometimes daytime) cravings. And yes, I feel much better physically. Yes, I LOVE not being hung over. Yes, I’ve gotten a lot more done. Yet… I feel sad, I guess is the best way to put it (in addition to irritable). Life is sad without wine, it really is! Sad in that it’s boring, in a way; uneventful; mellow. There’s no excitement, no cerebral buzz to look forward to. “Normal,” mundane life is just not enough. It never was, I’m afraid. (Is this me talking, or the mental and emotional crutch that wine is? I know it’s the latter, at least I hope, but I simply can’t FEEL it to be truth yet.)

Looking back on these two weeks, I’ve come to realize that I’m agitated most of the time by the struggle not to drink, by the desire to get buzzed. I’ve also come to accept that I drank not only to ESCAPE from reality, but also to ENHANCE my daily existence. And that’s not a bad thing! Yes, people, it’s not just about escape, it’s about the good stuff, too. I like (liked? sigh) drinking because I like how it augments, or adds, to what would otherwise be a steady, but mundane, list of days, months, and years. I’d venture to say that’s why most of us drink in the first place.

And, when I think of those people who wrote me off, those who showed such little empathy, I can’t help but fume. I mean, if it had been more than once for most, if it had been a constant thing, and if I hadn’t apologized so profusely — if I had INTENDED to hurt and this was a common thread that matched my SOBER BEHAVIOUR… All I’ve got for them is one big, fat Fuck you. Guess who’s getting sober? Guess who’s been dealing with the remorse and the self-loathing for years? Guess who’s gotten stronger day by day in her struggle to recognize her failings and improve? What have you done, aside from pretend you have no issues and live in denial, which is what allows you to so easily judge others? To them I say, Good fucking riddance.*

In fact, fuck AA, too. I have issues with AA, but mainly I resent the approach because not only does the program demonize your problem with compulsive behaviour (which is a brain fart, not a moral failing or flaw, btw), but it also puts the blame squarely on you such that it’s always the people you’ve hurt, inadvertantly, who become the victims. What about the drinker as victim? I mean, I feel like part of what made me — and no doubt others — start drinking too much was a traumatic experience early in life where WE WERE THE VICTIMS! Most people drink to self-medicate some hurt, some previously induced or present pain. Are not we, too, the victims of our drinking disorder? Shouldn’t we get some empathy, some understanding, and not simply lumped into a hot-mess pile of “fucked up people who deserve to be unhappy?”

Granted, I take full responsibility for my actions, but all I ask of people, especially those who have written me off either directly or in the back of their minds (Oh, she’s NEVER going to get well, she’ll drink herself to death… all the while HOPING that I don’t, since that means seeing me happy and productive and gasp!, possibly a competitive threat): have some empathy. TRY. And, just for shits and giggles, because I’m feeling rather irritable, here’s the letter I would write (if I was in the 12-step) to the people I’ve hurt who have written me off*:

Dear Judgmental Asshole:

I’ve already apologized a million times, and I refuse to continue to live in the past, prostrating myself before you over and over. I’m done apologizing. You don’t have the right to refuse my apology anymore. And, let me tell you, as I exit my dark night of the soul and you enter (or will be soon entering) yours: I hope it’s long, painful, and arduous. I probably won’t be there when you ask for my help, my understanding, my empathy and dare you need it, my forgiveness.

SEE? Sobriety isn’t the rainbows and unicorns it’s cracked up to be from the outside looking in.

*Disclaimer: There are marvelous people in my life — brothers, mothers, lovers, friends — who have done nothing but empathize, check in, deal, manage, and support me and my belligerent alter-ego during the past near-decade of my out-of-control drinking, and I salute, honor, love, and admire them infinitely.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, cravings, depression, drinking, sobriety, wine, withdrawal, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Sobriety

Choosing not to drink is a luxury

24 Jun

11:58 pm

Yes, it is. And, it’s only become apparent, after almost two weeks (no, I can’t believe it either), that I have a choice! Like my counselor was trying to tell me a few months ago, You don’t HAVE to drink. I knew what she meant. Toward the end (the past year or so), drinking has felt almost mandatory, DESPITE feeling sick and hung over and depressed. It was like, I approached getting drunk yet another night with something like dread, a whiney feeling in my gut that was crying out, No! No more! Yet, I forced myself to indulge, because…I guess I either felt like I had to drink or the cravings made me fear that I had to.

It was eye opening the other day when I came to that juncture like I do every day, craving a drink and wondering how to move forward, which way to go. This time, I sat down. I SAT DOWN there, on that figurative path, and looked around. I weighed my options — to drink or not to drink — and even though I felt a craving to drink, I chose not to. For various reasons, one being that I didn’t want to break my sober stretch yet again, another that I didn’t want to get drunk and then get drunker and then wake up feeling like complete ass. So I chose to not drink. Of course, I still wanted to, so I fought through the cravings. But, I chose! And I get to choose every single night, day, minute, second. I GET TO choose. That’s pretty amazing. And not something I’m used to relying on, since for so long I actually didn’t have the choice, whether it was due to a physical or psychological (usually this) need to drink. I still believe I have a strong psychological DESIRE, but I no longer believe it’s a need. I don’t think it ever was, but I could be wrong.

I haven’t felt much like talking about all the bad shit, but soon, I must (Yoda says). I know I can’t ride this detox/Hey, I’m sober! buzz for much longer. Ugh. The past few nights I’ve been fighting off the cravings by remembering the shit that went down, the belligerence, the blackouts. If there’s one thing that helps me to not start drinking, I’ve found, it’s recollecting the horrific nightmares — hell, actually — that I’ve put myself and others through while blacked out. It’s crushing, literally. I have had to lie down and hold my head, that’s how heavy, how weighed down my brain feels when I go there.

I’ve also been dwelling on the write-off’s, the people who have dissed and ditched, judged and walked away. I’d like to be able to say, Yup, all y’all can go fuck yourselves for not seeing the obvious pain I was in, the fear that translated to anxiety and anger. Yup, all y’all can go fuck yourselves for not helping me, for not believing in me, for making it seem that I was shirking my responsibilities. Maybe the reason I drank was not because I never HAD them, but because I had too many, for too long. Then, I take a deep breath and try to empathize by putting myself on the receiving end of some of my blackouts. And remembering, not everyone is a jerk, an asshole, sans empathy. There ARE people who have cared, who have supported me through this, who have done things that no “normal” friend should have had to do. I let it go.

Anyway, I’ll delve into all that soon enough. And I’m sure it’ll be cathartic. But for now, I just want to turn it off, shut it down, and fall asleep. Sober, of course. (12 days!)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, cravings, depression, detox, drinking, sobriety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Detox, Sobriety

Drunky drunk girl says, Woo frickin’ hoo, I’m sober

22 Jun

1:45 am

I don’t feel like writing tonight, and I think it’s a combination of being HOT (my apartment is stifling hot and I’m afraid to turn my A/C unit back on because it’s leaking all over the outside of the building) and I’m tired. Bored. Restless. I just spent a few minutes discussing my “lack of craving” tonight on the phone, and why it’s so great, and now all I want to do is drink. Sigh.

Still, the reality is clearer than ever, and maybe that’s what’s making it easier to simply say, Fuck it, why bother? The reality is that being drunk is not significantly different or better than being sober, at least not anymore. It’s not different (i.e., better) ENOUGH to be bothered with, and definitely not better enough to break my winning streak of almost 10 days sober. It stinks of effort, as one of my friends would say. And that’s simply depressing. Might as well throw in the towel and go to bed.

…

Throw in the towel? I mean, I had a very productive day but yet, I don’t feel like I did enough. Or, I feel like my enforced (literally) “me” time wasn’t necessary, or was a waste. That’s the thing I’m trying to change, though, the idea that I can’t do anything fun, or easy, during the day. It’s what drove me to drink in the first place. I realize that I HAVE to turn it off, close the laptop, put down the book, stop the working out and just…chill. Balance — it’s absolutely necessary in that without it, I get frustrated, overwhelmed, and desperate to shut down with a glass or six of red wine. I need to remember that I don’t have to work 24 hours a day, I can take time to play.

Sigh. Good thing I’m tired, otherwise I’d probably stay up and feel depressed, my mind numb, my body lethargic, and say, Eh, why not? It’s just grapes…

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, cravings, depression, detox, drinking, sobriety, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Detox, Sobriety

Drunky drunk girl asks, To drink or not to drink?

16 Jun

9:05 pm

To my utter surprise, I’ve had practically no cravings today. And I’m going on the end of day four. Maybe it’s because I had so much to do and simply didn’t have the time. I’m grateful, is all I can say.

The only craving I had today was on my walk home from my run. Thankfully it was light and lasted only about 15 minutes and concluded with me resigning myself to the fact that no, I can’t get buzzed and yes, I have to be sad. Done. Over. Kaput. There is no changing this fact and there is nothing I can do about it, so just accept being sad for tonight. Now, however, I feel good, distanced from this feeling that physically resembles being unable to breathe and simultaneously wanting to literally inhale wine; I feel an itch, a flutter at the base of my pelvis that circles up like flames, touching my stomach, sending plumes through my chest cavity all the way to the back of my throat. Today, I feel like I actually accomplished not only getting through the urge, but also a bunch of stuff on my to-do list.

I’m a to-do lister at heart. And, really, at this point, after putting getting drunk first and everything else second for the past 8 years, give and/or take all the times I was “functioning,” it’s the little things that I can check off my to-do list that SHOULD, I think, make me happy. Or, rather, scratch my itch? In fact, I think sometimes I’d prefer getting shit done to having a real life, a real relationship, a real craft. But, I do have a real craft, don’t I? Ugh. It’s these types of thoughts that make me crave the acidic blend of stimulation and sedation that wine always seems to provide, at least for the first few glasses: that burning sensation going down, the immediately sour stomach, a precise lightness to my blood, the adrenaline, that surge of LOVE, of “at-ease-ness” in the world; the excitement over the mundane, and the idea that it all really DOES matter, it’s all part of some overarching plan, some spectacular journey — this is how wine makes me feel. For the first two or three glasses. Then all goes to hell, I can’t stop, and I end up downing two bottles and feeling like absolute ass the next day, effectively ruining the entire buzz (not to mention, ruining the night in some way, shape, or form). Anyway, I’m hoping that my ability to listen to the voice of reason (my good angel) is part of an improved discipline to abstain and not simply the effect of having gotten shit done today.

So, what did I do that made me so happy? Well, I got up early. At 8. Lately I’ve been barely able to peel my eyes open and force myself to fall out of bed before noon, taking into account the fact of having gone to bed at 3 am and needing a full nine hours sleep. Maybe I’m finally getting over the flu? In any case, it all added up to me feeling GOOD about myself. I went to the PO and mailed some shit. I came home and actually WORKED. Yes! I sent some emails and did some networking, reaching out to a handful of people I know to inquire if they need any freelance writing/editing help. I went for a jog, which happened to be about five miles. (An important fact to note is that I’ve been unable to jog for years due to minor injuries all over my legs and feet, which in turn made me think I’d never be able to run again, which in turn made me feel sad and frustrated and want to drink, which I did. Over and over.) I shaved. I exfoliated. I hard-boiled some eggs. See? The little things.

Moreover, I think it’s the feeling of actually maybe possibly making progress on my dream — the goal of which is to line up enough freelance clients, both technical and journalistic, such that I can work from home/ANYWHERE. (I know, sounds fab, and who wouldn’t want to oh, I dunno, write from an island?) To put these plans into motion, to ACT on them, to prove to myself that yes, I can do it, I am good enough (or at least as good as my colleagues) — it makes me feel like I got shit done today.

Which brings me to the question: After such a good day, and so little craving to drink, should I risk it and go out tonight to a bar with my friend? Ugh. I haven’t tried going out and not drinking for a long time, it seems; when I have, I’ve recently ALWAYS caved. It’s so easy to say, Oh, just one. Then, when you’re not feeling the one, Oh, just one more. And when two hits — cuz you’ve downed both in about 15 minutes — you can’t stop yourself from ordering number three and by that time, all you want to do is drink to blackout (at least that’s how it goes for me) as soon as humanly possible. And, let me tell you, my blackouts are consistently ALL BAD, ALL THE TIME. We’ll get to those in another post.

(Btw, I’m going to start time-stamping these on my own. Apparently, this design template doesn’t do that and it seems relevant to the concept of a drinking journal, since you always want to drink and you feel different about that fact as every minute passes, it seems.)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, cravings, detox, drinking, panic, wine, women

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Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Bars, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Detox, Sobriety

Tick tock, tick tock, what’s in the fridge tonight?

14 Jun

Nothing. There is absolutely no booze in the place that I can drink. (The girl I’m subleasing my place from has a few bottles, but I’ve already downed four of hers, which totals *at least* 50 bucks, so I’m considering the remaining stash off limits). Really, though, it’s OK. I don’t have the energy to drink. In fact, I almost feel…*too depressed* to drink. Huh?, say you. Like, even I’m not sure how that’s possible.

For me, drinking after a day of work *or* play, especially if I feel tired, sad, or excited, even, has felt for the past several years almost…a necessary end, or piece, or part of a “complete” day. It’s habitual, ritual, my way of making a concerted effort to “make the best” of the day. If I skip the wine, then somehow, I’ve given up on making things better when I feel sad and anxious *or* celebrating when I feel happy or glad for my day’s accomplishments. It’s all so fucked up that even I wonder which end is up most of the time.

Tonight, I’m depressed. I feel spun, I feel unwound. Drinking would definitely fix one or the other or both.

Tonight, I’m thinking again about my own mortality. Isn’t it better to contemplate your death, in stark reality (not just something that might happen, but the honest-to-goodness cessation of your heart, your lungs, your brain), *now* rather than 35 years from now? And, by God, in 20 or so years I’ll be 60 years old!? How could I *not* feel anxious, or at least mentally vexed, by this…concept that will, day by day and year by year, become an absolute reality? How could I *not* feel sad, truly mournful, of my friends’ certain passing, of my parents’, my brothers’, my own? How little time we have, and what happens after? What happens not only after we die but to the living, the remaining, who have become so attached that it’s literally unbearable to live without these people?

See. This is fucking why I drink. And, I’m not sure if it’ll get better, as in, I’ll gravitate more toward positive thoughts than negative the further on I get in sobriety, but I sure to fuck hope so. Right now, all I want to do is take a deep breath, sigh, and go to sleep for a long time. Which makes me feel even more depressed.

Sit, I must. Wait, I shall. What else is there to do?

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, depression, drinking, panic, wine, women

Comments Leave a Comment
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Depression, Detox, Sobriety

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