Hell of a week. Last night I lay in bed with my heart racing and my head going a million miles an hour. I had to get up and start writing this – all of which is a far cry from the lethargy with which I started the week. Mostly due to the huge Saturday night I had. Goddamn will it ever end? The ridiculous excess. I suppose I could easily say no, I’m going home. In fact, that’s what we’d promised ourselves we’d do but instead we ended up being stupid at someone’s house til 6am.
Every day we get older but no wiser. Now I’m finally feeling good again and I’m scared to do anything social because, for me, it’s a slippery slope. It’s never just one. It’s nearly always more and more and then oh wait, what happened last night? The other night I got so drunk I got lost and couldn’t remember how to get home. Which is terrifying. Working back from the missed, received and made calls on my phone plus the uber and taxi receipts, I still have a 15min complete and utter black spot where I have no idea what happened and I was totally alone. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I have such a desire to appear put together, to seem like a person with a plan and goals and, fuck it, maybe even some dignity, but my alcohol and drug consumption lays me bare. I’m not put together. I’m out of control, a shambles, a sometimes train wreck careening off to god knows what. And sometimes I scare myself with my appetite for obliteration. Am I doing this to myself on purpose so I don’t have to think, worry or feel anything at all, except good? Until I feel bad. Or is it something more insidious? Am I simply unable to stop once I get started? Always wanting the next shot and the next high, always wanting to feel better.
I think it’s maybe a little bit of both. I don’t drink or do drugs when I’m on my own. I rarely drink during the week unless I’m out to dinner and this is usually civilised (although my failure as a drunken homing pigeon was on a fucking Tuesday night so there’s the exception that proves the rule). It’s always a social thing that sometimes stays normal and other times explodes into excess. To me, that had always seemed more healthy, to be social with my consumption. But surely once it manifests itself in these rampant binges, it would almost be better to be alone. To only be a danger to myself, not out in the world where any number of things could go wrong.
Then again, I had a friend that got hammered at home, fell over and broke her jaw. She had to get major dental reconstruction, never mind having her jaw wired shut for ages. She was lucky someone found her because she passed out (they were already on their way to her house before it happened). So I suppose things aren’t that bad… but they’re still not good.