When the anxiety is too much and you're dressed and made up for the day by 5:20 am. And you don't need to leave the house 'til 7.
Wow, I haven't blogged in forever. I'm rusty. And I'm only writing because I don't know what else to do with my stupid thoughts.
I haven't been drinking in two months, and it's been no harm. I drank in Oman for my birthday and ended up bawling my eyes out because I was convinced that I was the ugliest person in the world. (Even I'm bored with that routine now.) It's been a good two months. I've drank some wine since then, but I've been far from drunk. I love not drinking. I wake up every morning with some semblance of dignity and some sort of grasp on my life. But Thursday night I felt obliged to go out for my friend's birthday. I wish I could blame alcohol for my dickish behaviour but that began before I even touched a drop. I had been pretty excited for this night out with my pals, but that quickly changed when, in the process of getting dressed, I realised once again that I was a tremendously ugly individual. So, with that conviction, I joined my friend in her apartment before going out. But I was grumpy and negative and bitter. And so, when she told me to (basically) get over it, I responded by childishly leaving her apartment to come and stew in my own for twenty minutes.
When I did rejoin the group, I apologised to my friend, but it must have been a very half-assed apology because it didn't solve anything, and I felt the tension for the rest of the night. Despite my initial grumpiness, I did end up having a nice time at the brunch, and got chatting to my other friend's boyfriend's friend, and we really hit it off. Having drank upwards of five glasses of wine, I decided to accompany those three to another bar afterwards. I vaguely remember being in the taxi with them, and my memory of arriving at the bar is even foggier. I had sporadic memories of hanging out with some Indian or Pakistani guy and eventually escaping to get a taxi home by myself. Complete with McDonald's. When I woke up on Friday morning, I appeared reasonably intact. Except I had a grazed knee and a long cut on my shin. And an ache in my neck. And stabbing pains in my vagina. And (I didn't discover until Saturday) a love bite on my neck. What the fuck happened?
I have been gripped by fear and anxiety all weekend. Not only did I seriously piss off my good friend (and in probably more ways than I even remember), I also came home with a myriad of unexplained ailments, which is terrifying. This is exactly why I don't drink, and why I won't be drinking again for a long, long time. In fact, my 2017 new year's resolution might just be to stop drinking for a year ...
On Friday, the fear was expected, if unwelcome. I did what I could to get through the day, including changing my bedsheets and having a shower. I texted my friend. No reply. That's okay, she's still mad, that's expected. Saturday dawned with that same anxiety. I tried my best. I hoovered, I made my bed, I prepared my lunch for the week, I got dressed, I looked up new jobs for next year, I even left the house. I went to a coffee shop and corrected some exams and daydreamed. I joined a gym. I cooked a new meal. I showered. I messaged my friend again. Still no reply. Okay. I went to bed early. And then I woke up at 3:30 am after a sweaty, fitful sleep and at 4 am I decided to just get up and be done with it. So I'm here now at 6 am, dressed and looking reasonably presentable - with my hair down to hide the hickey. Radiohead is playing. I'm scared of seeing my friend at work. God almighty, I even have heartburn.
What's my strategy? Act like nothing happened? Low lie and wait for her to come to me (pray that she comes to me)? Early morning thoughts: I am not a good person.