I had a productive day: dropped my diamond off to the woman making my engagement ring and got heaps of uni work done. On the way home from the diamond lady, I got some inspiration for today’s post and wrote the below in the notes app on my phone:
I feel so much better. I don’t know whether it was writing about it or whether my brain has finally recovered from the weekend and is back into full scale production of all my feel-good (or just not feel like all hope is lost) chemicals. Either way, I’m glad.
Fast forward nine hours and I’m in a very different place. After spending about six hours getting a head start on my uni assignments, one of our friends put a call out in our group text to see if anyone wanted to have a drink before she started work. I said yes even though I’m on antibiotics that I’m not supposed to drink on. Normally, I’d say fuck it but the little bottle has a pink rimmed sticker that says “DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL WITHIN 24 HOURS OF CONSUMPTION”, which seems like a pretty legit warning. Also, when the pharmacist gave me the script, she specifically said not to drink and, I don’t know, something deep down inside me seems to have listened.
Long story short, I didn’t drink anything. I had one tiny bump of cocaine, which is a hell of a lot less fun without alcohol. I hung out for a few hours with Jared and a few friends but not being able to drink just left me feeling disconnected as they got louder and more raucous. It’s funny but soda water just doesn’t have the same effect. I ate a burger and some chips, simply so I could have my last tablet for the day, necked my soda water and bailed, leaving Jared at the bar.
Now comes the part where I can hear him teasing me about being on my high horse but I’m not really. I would 100% be there with him drinking and getting high if I could. I just don’t want to feel super sick tomorrow because I have a consult with a tattoo artist that may well end in me being tattooed and I really don’t want to be hungover and/or sick for that. But, without these obstacles, I’d still be at the bar drinking, no doubt about it. Even though we told one another we would have a quiet weekend in.
And that’s what has me worried. Can we not go even one weekend without getting high and drunk? And I’m just as guilty. I still took drugs and, if it wasn’t for the alcohol ban, I’d still be taking them. After how horrible I’ve felt all week. After the depression and the mood swings and the extreme emotional weirdness. After all of this, I still want to be out there having “fun” instead of sitting at home wrestling with all of this shit. It would be so much better not to have to think about it.
I don’t know. Is this the point when you throw your hands up and admit you have a problem? I’m past that though. I know I have a problem but I don’t know what I’m willing to do about it.