The Whiskey Diaries: Entry V

Its now gotten to the point where I wonder what I need to control more; my emotions, or my drinking. Because it’s painfully clear to me now that they both directly affect one another.

I’m so sick of waking up with a feeling of such anxiety – that eventually causes an immense feeling of fear – that I have to drink or take drugs to feel better. That shouldn’t be the way anyone lives their life. And no one else should have to live with someone like me either. It’s just not fair.

As much as it hurts to type this and admit this, a huge source of my issues stem from my own mother. I’ve known it deep down for years, but I guess saying it out-loud and announcing it or sure still hurts. I turned 32 three days ago, and my biggest birthday present from her came in the form of a magnificent lie. After finally feeling good about myself and getting my drinking under control, I let myself sink back down into my so called “rabbit hole” and drank more than I usually do. And I blame her, even though I know I should only blame myself – I mean, it’s not like she held a gun to my head… not physically anyways.

At this point in time I’m not even entirely sure what to say, for her or myself. I am a product of my upbringing, and she is the exact reason I have always stated I do not want children of my own. I am terrified of that idea. I have nightmares about it at times.

I can say I would have never became an alcoholic if she didn’t have a bottle of vodka sitting on our kitchen counter when I was a teenager, always ready for when she had a bad day or a bad moment – I mean, what do you think that teaches a child? Her way of dealing with her anger was either taking it out on me physically or drinking herself to sleep. I can blame her, sure. But I am my own person, I am in control of myself (for the most part) so I can’t blame anyone but myself.

I feel it took me finally waking up one day and realizing this on my own – for she is the reason I don’t like other people trying to convince me of anything.

Not to say she hasn’t tried, I’m not trying to make her out as this evil, cold-hearted person. But I can’t help it that the bad stands out more than the good. I was never taught or shown a good way of dealing with bad emotions. I was never shown another way other than complete and full release of anger. I was never informed that there was another way to go about things than emotional and physical destruction. And I promise, to myself and the person I love more than anything, I will never allow myself to instill that into anyone, ever.

When you have had something told to you for over two decades of your life, only to see it a different way for yourself, it causes an explosion of thoughts and emotions. That explosion only causes irreparable damage. I refuse to allow that to be who I am any longer. This is my wake up call.

And just like any drug addiction, I need to quit her.

I want to be a better person, I really do. And I am lucky to have the opportunity to do so, the mentality to tell me so, and the drive to do so.

Advertisements

Can anything else happen?

I honestly feel like a total fuck-up some days.

Last night I went out to have some fun, ended up having too much to drink, picked a fight over something incredibly insignificant, tried to leave and drive home drunk while being fought the whole time (rightfully so), came home, bitched and ranted about still being mad, and slept in a different room of my home instead of my bedroom.

Today, I left the house emotional and angry, drove way too fast to where I was going, self indulged in some hair dye and nail supplies, then, while leaving the parking lot and only driving five miles per hour, ran my car into the side of another car. While my car only suffered scratches to my bumper and front emblem, the other guy’s car suffered a ruined front fender and a ruined front hub for the tire, making the car un-drivable. My first ever car accident, and one of the worst days of my life so far. I admitted full fault and gave the person all of my info. Luckily, I just happened to get a really calm, collected, and understanding person. I really did expect him to get out of his car, yell at me, tell me I’m an idiot, ask me why the fuck I didn’t watch where I was going, but instead he was incredibly cool about it.

To be honest, I was still emotional when I was leaving the parking lot, had tears in my eyes (which is never a good way to drive), and once we were finished calling our insurance companies and figuring everything out, I noticed that the corner of where I was originally turning to leave had a hedge that was about 4 feet tall. What the fuck?

My nights lately have been filled with dreams that are so vivid, about my daily life, people I know, and places I’ve been, that I don’t even feel like I’m sleeping anymore. Each night I dream about this same house, this same situation, and it’s been happening for so long now that I know I’m dreaming. I wake up every day feeling sleep deprived and more exhausted than the day before. I spend most of the day thinking about it, wondering why I keep having the dreams.

I start a job in two days. I’m hoping once my mind is busy being occupied with other things for the day, some of this will subside and I can feel somewhat normal again. Because I can’t take much more of this; the anxiety, the near panic attached, the horrible dreams, the exhaustion, feeling like I’ve lost myself… I just want to feel normal again.

The Whiskey Diaries: Entry I

I’d hoped to start these entries off on a high note, documenting the progress of overcoming an incredible alcohol addiction. But instead, this first entry will document the sickening withdrawals and intense anxiety.

Today, just like two days ago, I woke up already feeling the shakes coming on. This usually happens early in the morning, around seven or eight a.m. and the minute I feel it I start to panic a little; “You mean, I have to feel like this the whole day, knowing it will only get worse later?” The only real comfort I feel is when I take a long shower, but that includes spending half of it bent over, heaving, trying to take sips of the bottle of water I usually bring in with me. I tend to use up all of the hot water, making for a very cold exit, which I already know – but do it anyway – will make me feel like shit all over again.

I spend hours pacing back and forth in my house – in between the stomach cramps and puking – trying to concentrate on my breathing so I don’t hyperventilate from the anxiety and genuine fear. My poor dog just sits on the couch watching me, looking like she wants to cry, and sometimes does.

Looking up the actual symptoms of sever alcohol withdrawal does NOT help the situation. It only scares me more. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder what happened to my nice skin, my womanly shape, my teeth… What happened to my hair and my social life? What have I done to people I care about that I often can’t even remember why they are mad at me – usually because I was so drunk the night before that once I fell asleep my brain hit a reset switch.

My head is pounding, I keep clenching my jaw from the anxiety, I know I should eat but just can’t even put food in my mouth right now, I’m so thirsty but can’t drink too much water at a time. I also discovered orange juice – thinking to put something healthy in my body – is a no-go on these days, and tastes wretched coming back up.

There’s a part of me that just wants to scream, run outside and as far as I can – but the thought of leaving the house on these days is scary. What if I have an episode in public? When I’m not pacing the house, I’m stuck on the couch, curled up in a ball, looking at the closed blinds of the room I’m in, with the sun shining behind them, knowing I’ve wasted so much of my life having days like this.

The sad part is, it’s not like I just got some sort of virus one day that afflicted me to get like this – I know I did it to myself. That’s my sad truth. I did this.

72 Hours In…

It’s been three days. 14844-blue-water-drops-on-a-dark-leaf-2560x1600-digital-art-wallpaper

I’m in a new state, a new home, a new territory, and new surroundings. A new adventure is about to begin – or already has – and I have NO fucking idea how this will end up. My goal; to be a better person, healthy, genuinely better… because who I am now is killing me.

I’m not as scared as I thought I would be. I’m not struggling as bad as I thought I would. But, I have a side of me that takes over, kind of like an autopilot mode. There’s a side of me that takes over and keeps everything under the surface. It will explode one day, I know this.

The nightmares lately are almost too much. I wake up sweating and crying. I wake up panicking and wanting to claw my way out of where ever I am. I wake up terrified and pissed off. I wake up and don’t ever want to go back to sleep, no matter how tired or delirious I am. For instance, today I have been unpacking boxes and trying to set up my new home since 3 am.

The people and the environment here is a culture shock. I have no idea what the fuck I am going to do, how I will be, what I will like, and not like.

I look at the backyard that is now mine, the living room, the kitchen, the environment that I now currently reside in, and I think about how I need to get healthy, how I am lucky to even be here – yet alive. I have put myself through so much physically, I could be a medical science experiment. How do I even function? How do I wake up every day and still am able to live like a regular human being? Of all the times I have tried to kill myself on purpose, I am shocked it never happened by accident.

Self indulgence, greed, pride… these are the things that drive – and inevitably – lead me to my demise. I own my faults. I don’t deny my wrong doings. I am who I am. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. And it doesn’t mean I don’t fully understand myself.

Not even I understand the dustiest corners of my mixed up soul…

The Inevitable “What If?”

What am I doing?

Am I making the right decision? Have I ever?

I have been told over and over by people who know me for the real me that this… this is the first time in my lifetime that they have ever seen me question myself. I do NOT question myself. My emotions and feelings have always been night and day; I always know how I feel and how to react.

But not anymore. I started a transition over a year ago that while I knew it would impact my emotional reactions and hopefully let me end up for the better, ended up amplifying my attention to detail… no matter what the subject.

My health lately is my top concern and priority. At 31 years old, five feet and two inches tall, I should not weigh a mere 103 pounds. My clothes should not be loose and baggy, I should not bruise so easily due to my blood being so thin from mass alcohol consumption, I shouldn’t have to be worrying about the way my teeth feel right now.

I should not have let everything in my life – for my life – get so out of control.

But I run away from everything that impacts me on a level I cannot control. Weather it be amazing or awful; if I am not in total control I have no fucking idea or inclination of how to react.

One thing I do realize – no matter anyone elses opinion – I have always recognized the impact I have made on others when it comes to emotions. I see it and recognize it because I feel like no one ever did that for me; but it doesn’t mean that I’m a saint at fixing my flaws. I am the worst person to repair damage I have done.

Part of that is why I can’t stand myself sometimes.

Unanswered

seatedI know everything in life happens for a reason, but what bothers me is I don’t know those reasons most of the time. For once I find myself so upside down and inside out that I can’t even think straight. I wish there was a way I could communicate without words. I wish there was a way for me to explain myself to myself so I know who I am.

I let too many things scare me. I let my insecurities and fears blind me and I don’t see things about myself that others tell me. I only seem to see this person that I have never truly been happy with. Almost like a mirror that never tells you the truth. I run from things and avoid things because its the only way I know how I react. If I don’t feel, then I don’t have to think. If I don’t have to think, then I can be happy and relaxed. What kind of life is that? Who does that?

My alcoholism has affected so many things in my life, and none for the better. I was never able to express myself correctly or without aggression and over emphasized emotions, now I just compacted the issues and put up a wall. My health has been affected to the point of losing weight so rapidly I look physically sick and my clothes don’t fit right. I try to eat and nothing tastes good. I don’t think I’ve eaten a full meal in months. I overindulge on things that aren’t healthy for me. I also tell myself every day that this will be the day that everything changes, that I change things for the better, that I start to get healthy, mentally as well as physically. Each of those days I fail at keeping my promise to myself.

The past eighteen months have changed my life in so many ways. I was finally able to take the first step of getting mentally healthy by pulling myself off of something I had been stuck to for over half my life. Family relationships changed and my eyes opened to things I was blinding myself to in the past – or being blinded by others who should have never stepped in that place. A part of me grew for the better but a part of me has turned bitter and sour. A part of my heart has frozen over watching some of the changes. And now an even bigger change is going to take place, hopefully one that will allow me to finally pull myself out from under this cloud I’ve been carrying and finally work on myself – something I’ve been saying I’d do for years. I need to find out who I am.

 

Only Smarter

image-pngThey say that which does not kill you only makes you stronger. I think strong is the furthest thing from the truth there could be; it may not have killed you, but you are forever affected and changed by the experience. I believe it teaches you things alright, but not great things.

With each emotionally painful experience I’ve had in my life, I have learned how to suppress, ignore, defeat, and side-step emotions and people in order to see another day. With a destructive personality like mine, every day is a war. I find myself battling thoughts and desires that I know deep down will only lead to a demise. But still, the feelings and thoughts are there. It’s like my conscious is a whole other person inside my head; talking to me and guiding me through days and events I would otherwise fail miserably at. The times I am congratulated or complimented on my performance in life – in general – are somewhat painful because I wish so much I could fully explain that I am not doing as well as everyone thinks!

I’m a mess. Today is only slightly different from the rest. While my issues and addiction have kept me from doing what I was legitimately supposed to be doing with my life, I am at least painfully aware of my situation. And by painful I mean both physical and emotional. This all started as a way to ignore how broken my heart was from my loss… I never meant it to become a seven year long addiction that even I feel like I can’t beat on my own.

Which is shameful to me; I have always been able to beat things that break me down. I have always been a fighter. I’m still fighting, but this is one battle I cannot win on my own.

For the first time in over thirty years, I realize I am free. I am free and have no one to blame for anything but myself. I am free and it took a long time for me to realize that I do not have to answer to anyone. That also came with the realization that I put myself in this situation. What angers me though, is that I know this, I realize this, but can’t fucking change it. I know I am capable, but the willpower, the strength, is just not there. I’m proud of parts of myself, parts of my life. I really am. But this small part of me… this monster that just will not die, cannot be satisfied, and will not settle down… that part of me… makes me wish things I know cannot happen.