The Whiskey Diaries: Entry IV

Last week I managed to reduce my alcohol intake significantly and each day I woke up feeling a little better. Last week I also took a trip to California to see friends and family before starting Image.pngwork here in Nevada. Upon coming home, it was the weekend and just being generally happy to be back home and back where I am starting to feel comfortable, I decided to let myself drink more, and harder alcohol (I have been weening myself slowly with lower and lower alcohol content in what I drink) telling myself it was just for the weekend and I deserved it. Then came Monday, when I had to drop my Fiance off at the airport for a work trip and prepare to – yet again – spend time alone and isolated.

So what did I do? I drank, of course. Now it’s Wednesday and I’m back to feeling that anxiety in the morning, not being able to take a deep breath without my chest feeling funny, and my hands shaking slightly. Needless to say, I’ve only had a few bites of food today and I feel like shit.

Today is a no Whiskey day. I used to be happy holding a bottle of Jameson in my hand at the store, happy to be able to get home and have a few drinks, relax, do the usual around the house. Now every time I reach for a bottle on the shelf and carry it to the check-out, I feel slightly disgusted with myself, almost ashamed, the whole time saying in my head “Fuck, here we go again…” I’m still struggling to get my weight over 105 pounds. I turn 32 in two months and refuse to let this take over another year of my life.

I originally started drinking to forget things, anything that hurt me emotionally as I have a higher physical pain tolerance than most. Now the drinking makes me overthink, makes me lazy and careless, and at times incredibly mean. Who wants to live like that? I know that I don’t, not anymore. It’s opened the doors to too many things, none of which have been good or healthy.

Honestly, I’ll be pretty disappointed in myself if I venture out later and pick up a bottle, but sometimes even the disappointment isn’t enough to stop me. Fingers crossed, I sit here writing and looking at my projects and crafts I work on, realizing I have barely touched them in weeks. Hopefully, if all goes well, I start work in three weeks and will get back to some sort or normalcy and independence. I have to admit, twelve-hour work days are not going to give me enough time to drink, and I’m looking forward to that.

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…

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.

 

So I Donโ€™t Have To Feel

I usually drink so I donโ€™t have to feel or think about anything. When you have an overactive mind with excruciating attention to detail like I do, things can become a bit too much on a daily basis. Normal things, like the noise of traffic or machinery running, the hum of the filter on my fish tank, the vibration of my phone when a notification happens, even just noticing minute differences in things that are not entirely symmetrical. I tend to overthink about things in my life like relationships and hobbies I have, projects Iโ€™ve started and never finished, friends and family members I closed myself off to because of one reason or another. I can seriously hold a grudgeโ€ฆ even against myself.

The funny part is, I can give the greatest advice. Iโ€™m usually the one my friends come to when they need help with something or just need to talk and vent about their problems. And Iโ€™m usually very happy to oblige them. My generosity can extend pretty far, but there is no gray area; Iโ€™m either incredibly happy to do something โ€“ or Iโ€™m making up excuses as to why Iโ€™m too busy to deal with it at the time. I have no โ€œin-betweenโ€ the two feelings of wanting to be social and wanting my solitude.

My drinking, however, has very little to do โ€“ if at all โ€“ with those feelings. Iโ€™ve been this way my entire life. My addiction on the other hand? Thatโ€™s a whole different story. I try to control my alcoholism the best I can. I tell myself I canโ€™t be that bad because I still make my car payment on time, my rent on time, and other bills on time. I go to work, excel at my job, and still continue to throw myself into my hobbies and learn new crafts. But then I look at my bank account, the excessive amount of money I spend, the days I have stayed home from work because I drank until I was sick the night before, and the arguments I’veโ€™ had with loved ones while drunk that I canโ€™t even remember the next day. Itโ€™s a double-edged sword, and I cut myself with it every day.

Maybe getting back to writing will help. Hell, I have piles of journals and binders full of writings from when I was younger and it was all I wanted to do. Ever since I was a child my mind has worked faster than my hands could write or type. My mind is filled with sentences and phrases and things I want to say but have no idea how to organize. Itโ€™s even worse when I drink. All I want to do is open myself up and pour all the words out on the floor like a game of pick-up-sticks so I can finally see them instead of think them.

Time will tell if this helps.