Dear Diary

Today, I’m having problems with sobriety…

Let’s be clear, I am not an alcoholic or an addict in a traditional sense. I find it quite easy to go forever without drinking, I’ve never done drugs, and even though it’s legal I don’t regularly smoke pot… The problem is that occasionally my brain decides that we should go on a bender of some kind. Apparently, today is that day.

I don’t know what triggers it. I’m not under stress. I’m not anxious about anything. I’m not fighting with anyone. Work is pretty slow. By all rights there’s no reason for me to feel like I need to send myself into oblivion, but here I am fighting the urge to drink, or smoke, or SOMETHING. I think it’s correlated to my mania, but I can’t figure out the trigger… and so here I am.

I’ve been enjoying my sobriety. I had developed some habits for dealing with my depression that I didn’t like… and while none of them were illegal, I dislike anything I have to do daily just to avoid the blue, including prescription drugs. Truly, I’ve been enjoying not running home to cover up my feelings. I like that I feel like myself and I’m not… harming(?) myself. Granted, I’m still binge-eating, but I deserve SOME habit, right? Right.

I dunno. I’m just struggling and I can’t peg why and it bothers me so hard.

I Finally Did Something REALLY Stupid

When other people talk about high school or college, there are typical stories. There’s the time Bobby drank so much he blacked out and disappeared and wandered back into town the next morning after waking up in the woods. There’s the time Murphy did a little too much coke and ended up in the ER. There’s the time Miranda drank so much she jumped off the roof into the pool and everyone thought she was gonna drown. There’s the time Stephanie drank so much that her friends took her to the ER, but they were all wasted so instead of doing the RIGHT thing, they pulled up to the ER, threw her out of the car, honked the horn, sped off, and hoped for the best.

I don’t have these stories. Historically I’m just not that person. I can drink a lot, but at worst I tend to go home. I don’t do any drugs. I’ve never almost died from alcohol intake. I’m boring.

Saturday was a good day. I got up to take Bdo to the vet for a pre-dental exam, and Kyrie tagged along so they cold recheck her eye. Friday morning, you see, she couldn’t open it. I took the day off work and took her to the vet. They couldn’t tell what was wrong so they gave me an antibiotic, pain killers, and steroid eye drops to reduce swelling. Saturday they rechecked it and there’s no object in it, or any scratches. Somehow, even with her deep-set chow chow eyes, she managed to hit it so hard on something it bruised the eye and made her 3rd eyelid (did you know dogs have 3 eyelids?! fascinating.) swell up. She’s doing fine now, though.

Also that morning, I had received texts from D2. He wanted to know if I was going to the show tonight. It would be the first time he’d see his old band play without him. They got a new keyboardist and he wanted to show support… but not alone, because it’s still kinda shit he had to leave the band, ya know? So I agreed to go and planned on being there early to grab a ticket.

In the meantime, Mom and I went to see Krampus. It was gold. It’s not scary, but it’s funny, fast-paced, and has a good story. I’m really hoping that they capitalize on the merchandising for it. I want a Krampus bell… and potentially a small collection of his evil toy minions. I really enjoyed it.

When we got home I cleaned the garage. It was already pretty clean, but I rearranged stuff so that I could fit my car in it. It’s been years since the Jeep fit in the garage. So I was super stoked.

I got ready to go out. It was a steam punk band headlining, so I threw on my favorite outfit, which is a LOT of black and white stripes, with some boots, and headed out. Parking was a nightmare. I got there early and I still couldn’t find anywhere to park. Damn the Bluebird district. It’s wretched. Everything is marked residential parking only. Still, I finally found a place pretty far from the venue, and ended up walking with some other random concert-goers. I would figure out walking back alone later.

Got a ticket, said hello to the bands, had a drink (1). Talked to some people, D2 showed up with his boyfriend we all did a shot (2). Saw the first two bands play. Guy I gave a cigarette to outside bought me a drink (3). Went outside with D2 and Co to smoke. BLACKOUT.

I vaguely remember sitting in an ambulance. I kept apologizing to the EMTs and telling them how stupid this was, because this isn’t how they should be spending their valuable time.

I vaguely remember talking to the officer at the ER a few times. I can’t tell you what was said, but a lot of it is me saying something and him ignoring me. Which is fair.

Then I woke up and my mom was holding my hand. She looked really concerned. I didn’t know what was going on. I babbled. And when I was acting more coherent she was allowed to take me home.

I’d thrown up on myself at some point in the night. I didn’t remember doing that, or anything other than going outside with D2 & Co. One of the people I was with said that I’d seemed a little tipsy, and then got very drunk in like a minute in a half and hit the ground. She and her son were concerned about me, but all she could do was panic…

A fireman showed up from somewhere, and called my mom on my cell, but she was too far out for them to wait for her to get there, so they called an ambulance. Then wherever they put my phone called her again and all she could hear was me screaming and losing my mind. She was, of course, worried beyond all belief. Then the line went dead and no one called her for a while.

I guess I kept trying to call her from the hospital, and failed. She called me back, though, and the nurse on call answered to tell her where I was.

I don’t remember her getting there. I just remember the look of worry. I remember I told her a few times that this wasn’t me, and I cried a lot. Then she took me home.

I’m wracked with guilt. My mom wasn’t mad. She just took me home, let me in my house and said she’d take me back to my car in the morning. She’s just glad I’m okay, and on the way home I kept trying to apologize and she said, “You don’t even know the stupid crap I did when I was your age. I’m just glad you’re okay and no one got hurt.” Literally, in that moment she essentially said she’d done worse and that it was fine. That’s killing me.

I feel like she should be mad. Yeah, I’m 27 years old and I totally an adult, but because of me she had to get up in the dead of night, worry the whole way to a hospital she’s never been to before, and get me. While those who were with me maintain that I didn’t do anything reckless or wrong, and that I was probably drugged somehow, even though I watched the bartender make the drink that guy bought me, I FEEL TERRIBLE. I feel like I should be punished somehow or something… It’s just… whack.

Sunday I woke up, took a shower, and mom took me to my car after she drank her coffee. She still wasn’t mad. I went to work, but couldn’t get a whole lot done because I couldn’t write anything. My whole being was weird and shaky and every so often I would move my head and get dizzy… so I went home. I brought mom Chipotle, and then told her I was going home to sleep, because I still felt wrong. I called her, even though she lives next door to me, like 5 times that afternoon. She still wasn’t mad. Everything was still okay. Tomorrow would be better.

So this morning I got up, took Bdo in for his dental, and drove to work.

I’m better, I guess. I’m still feeling like I did something wrong, even though I prolly didn’t. Won’t be drinking when I go out for a while, though… maybe one beer if it comes in a bottle and I can watch them open it.

So I bashed my face into a bookcase…

This weekend was weird.

Friday night, for whatever reason, I was hellbent on getting drunk. It’s been an exhausting week, what with our title clerk leaving and me having to learn her job, so I guess I was just feeling the stress. But, after $52 worth of vodka, I found someone interesting.

Maybe it was the vodka. Maybe I just liked his taste in karaoke choices. I dunno, but he was interesting.

So we chatted for a bit. Then we made out for a bit. Then he followed me home, and walked me inside.

So I went to let Kira out of her kennel, and tripped over Kyrie and bashed my face into a bookcase. It was not graceful and I ended up laying face down on the floor until this guy asked if I was ok. If he hadn’t asked, I would have probably woken up on the floor in the morning. I was drunk, seeing stars, and flirting with unconsciousness. His voice, however, reminded me of his presence. So I jumped up and ignored my throbbing head.

He was nice. He was concerned. He helped me upstairs to bed, and we made out and he staid the night. It wasn’t romantic, or sexy, or anything, but it was really nice. I hadn’t been close with someone in over a year. When he left in the morning, he left his hat.

We had plans that evening for a show. Just my friends playing shitty 90s covers. It’s fun. We laugh. The guys talk to me during their breaks. I thought it would be fun since this guy was also in a band. He’d agreed to pick me up at 820, because I told him 830 and like me, he thought that being early is better. I liked that about him. Around five he was texting me about his band practice. It was going to run late… So I agreed to meet him at the show.

That was the last I heard of him. He never showed up.

Now, he wasn’t the most attractive man, ever. He was pudgy, with a baby face, and the potential for neck beard. He didn’t make me question my asexuality. I didn’t even think I wanted to date him or something, and I’m pretty sure that I’m aromantic, anyway. Still, being stood up, for the second time in my life, is upsetting. It’s only recently that this has started happening to me and both times I kind of wanted to die over it.

So if you don’t want to fuck someone, and you don’t want to date them, but you’re still upset and hurt they stood you up…, what are you feeling?

I HAVE NO MOTHERFUCKING IDEA. But whatever it is, it’s fucking awful.

How I Coped With my Potential Cancer.

If you missed my previous post, I might have breast cancer.

So how does one cope with a potentially fatal illness at 25?
Not well… Well, actually, I don’t know how other people cope with this sort of thing, but I decided to lose my mind.

Friday morning I found out I have beads of doom in my boob, so Friday night I drank. A lot. I started with a Long Island iced tea, which was pretty clear, tasted awful, and opened the door to drinking more vodka, doing a red headed slut shot, and a tuaca shot. Then, when I was already drunk, and my memory gets hazy, I did something I never do: I accepted things from Charles.

You may be wondering why that is so rare… It’s because Charles is pretty much a frat boy without a fraternity, and anything he hands you could ruin your night. Pills, pot, drinks… You accept nothing from Charles, but I did…

So after getting some Afghani strain in my system, I blacked out worse, and my bestie had to drive my twisted ass home.

The whole night is just flashes. I know I cried at the bestie and a KJ. I know the flower guy that does rounds to the bars every night said a prayer for me. I know that some girl reassured me that she went through the same thing and it was nothing. I don’t know much else.

Waking up this morning, I thought I would feel like shit. I was oddly perfect. I was even in high spirits. I discovered that I’d eaten a whole jar of pickles… Is that the secret to a hangoverless night? And yes, I know hangoverless is not a word.

Tonight, I went out again, for a friend’s birthday. He and his totally non-serious cover band played. For whatever reason, I’m blaming the lack of birth control, I’m extremely into this guy today. So, I slut myself up a little (as much as a fat girl can without looking desperate) and went, I got to say maybe three words to him.

I did get Voodoo Doughnuts, though, as the bestie went and stood in line for two god damn hours for them earlier in the day. This guy, who I vaguely know, was so excited to get one that he could have been an antidepressant commercial.

It was fun to go out. Lots of my music scene acquaintances came out, so they had guest singers and players.

For instance… This is what NSync’s Bye Bye Bye looked like.

Still, coming home alone is pretty crap.

I’m sad… Maybe because I’m just bipolar… But who can say.