Monday 10.19.2020 (A Typical Not-So-Typical Day)

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This day is deemed as "A Typical Not-So-Typical Day" simply because I am on my second freakishly-large Whiteclaw (somehow my sweet M was able to find this super-sized version, most likely so he didn't have to pick up a case so frequently throughout the week) and briefly thought about not drinking tonight, but decided against it because, well, this day isn't supposed to be different. That's tomorrow's job, right?

This is nice. This is something I could get used to, something I would actually update and look forward to updating each day. I love my Moleskin journal, the pages, using a pen and hand-writing but honestly? My hand cramps up. And I'm only good for two pages until I decide- "well ok, time to wrap this up, you actually don't have as many feelings to confront head-on as you thought you did (according to your hand) we'll write another day, ok?"

Right now I'm currently thinking too deeply about the title I chose (too wordy and doesn't quite convey the meaning I want it to) and the name I chose ("No Longer in Denial" is honestly a little too solemn and pious to describe my purpose with this blog or myself for that matter). Not to worry, both of these will change frequently in the coming weeks. My indecision is another one of my famous flaws- that and the drinking. And the smoking. And the occasional longing for wanting to return to my actively anorexic, cocaine-sniffing, booze breathing self that existed but just three years ago. 

She was in this bedroom, where I sit now, once. She was sobbing about some dramatic fight she and her her five Zubrowka and soda's had started with her now fiance. She actually appeared last night. And the night before. She berated M more than three times in the past two days- brutally.

She actually is here, inside of me- right now, even if I am a mother of an actual angel, even if I work within a highly esteemed hospital organization and I'm in school bettering myself. She doesn't care because she knows- no matter if it's at the very tail-end of my day, I will make time for her. 

She still has me by the balls in other words. 

She shows me my straight A's, my unspeakably perfect angel of a child, my wonderful reputation and relationship with my manager at work and says "See? I'm helping you. Keep me secret and we will be just fine."

Little does she know is that I'm a lot more intelligent than she gives me credit for. I mean, I know where this goes. The inevitable spiral, the promised health problems, the guaranteed gradually worsening mental health issues, the relationship failure- the job loss. One small thing- thats all it would take to turn this highly precocious situation into an earth-shattering meteor-shower. And I've been accepting this for what? A can of shitty god-knows-what-the-fuck's-inside alcoholic beverage? 

I know I'm better than this. I'm tired of the internal battle and my true self tugging at my pant-leg asking me "can we stop now?" while the monster cracks open another can and guzzles itself into whatever falsified bliss it thinks it's in. 

I need to shower and put myself to bed so I don't feel as shit as I did yesterday and today. (I'm pretty sure I've been sleep-deprived thanks to booze for a whole year if not more). 

Until Tomorrow,

NLD

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