On Why I Drank.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed--despite the fact that there is just one side for me to wake up on now.

I went to the Saturday morning women's AA meeting--not wanting to go--and arriving 15 minutes late. It seemed like everything was pissing me off left and right since the minute I got up and out of bed:

I check the phone to see I got no message, no email, no love. My contacts gave me shit and I kept dropping them and having to wash them before putting them on my eyeballs. I couldn't find my garter belt to hold my stockings up with (and wanting to wear them since it was to be in the 40's outside) so therefore did without the stockings and went bare-legged into the crisp outside air.

I should have been grateful that it wasn't as cold as I thought it would be and I felt fine wearing my black skirt, purple spaghetti-string top, and a yellow cardigan. But instead I grumbled to myself how I was late and that I didn't want to go to this morning's meeting.

A very slow truck refused to go any faster as it practically stopped to make a left turn. I raised my hand in the Italian-style frustration behind the damn rusty thing. My own car squeaked annoyingly loud as I hit (seemingly) every pothole there was and I strained to hear my music over the constant squeaking--

(without being grateful that my car is a good one and it runs well and I still have it)

--and by the time I arrived 15 minutes late--I plopped down beside K with a gravity-pulled frown. I swore I wasn't too angry or sad, but I could not lift the corner of my mouth nor lift my eyes up for anything in the world. Normally I am responsive to each 'Hello, I'm----and I'm an alcoholic' but I averted my eyes and kept my lips fused shut.

But I listened. At first the ladies' stories were faint--they did not carve into my conscious mind much though I did half-heartedly try to listen. I lifted my face up a bit more throughout the meeting as I realized these ladies were describing me with their own personal stories. Then my sponsor, K, spoke up and mentioned how grateful she was--after listening to a lecture in class the previous week about various disease epidemics that are going around in less-fortunate countries than ours--and marveled at how lucky she felt, how lucky we are.

And she is right. My biggest problem is not when am I going to eat next, will I get a parasite from drinking this water, where can I find a pair of shoes that I can walk in, where will I sleep tonight, am I going to survive today? Nein, my biggest issue lately is: Am I going to pass this damn test today? Am I going get into the forensic genetics program?

The stories unfolded and I saw--of course--that my bad mood today stemmed from something a bit more obvious. I had realized the night before that the love I've had--whom I had spent a year and a half trying to get to know, trying to be a good friend of, and who I drove collectively 44 hours and spent $800 to go visit last spring--would never love me back. Never. It had taken me a year and a half to realize his words were false. That there were people--one in particular--that told me it was obvious that me and Z never spoke. I was rarely acknowledged by him. He had lively conversations with other people but never with me, though I had known him and been around longer than half the others.

After the meeting, I broke down and told K about Z and his treatment of me and the things he'd say right before ignoring my presence for weeks/months on end until he'd send another missive or call me 'darlin' or some such thing--which sucks me back in. Why was I not strong enough to admit to myself this before? Why could I not pull away from him for good? Why did he enjoy hurting me so much? I was probably one of the few, if not the only, woman that had never betrayed him or actively hurt him in any way.  If I had indeed hurt him somehow, it was out of self-discontent and mostly unintentional.

It all reminds me of why I began drinking in the first place. I felt I could not be social, that I could not break out of my shyness unless I drank. I thought maybe I'm a tad bit more lovable drunk--a sweet drunk that smiles cutely all the time--whereas when I'm sober, I very rarely smile and my face is normally in-animated.

It started 9 years ago by just going to the bars to drink and be social. That was usually where I found my lays. Or hopeful dates--but were normally just goodnight-lays before I'd drunkenly drive back home. Then soon after, I began just drinking at home. It was first Jack's hard cola and the like. Then it was self-made mixed drinks. And by the time I was about to get my applied science degree in biotechnology before transferring here--I was drinking straight vodka or rum directly from the bottle.

By that point I had completely stopped going to the bars, and was just drinking at home, in my room. I figured I was still being social because I would drink while in SIN chat. In fact, I thought it was an improvement, for the months or more before I began studying up on Satanism and joined SIN, I had been just drinking hard liquor from the bottle in my room while watching movies or, sometimes, practicing belly dancing, or just dancing while watching Madonna videos to get my exercise in--while swinging my rum/vodka bottle around in my hand. I do recall doing yoga while drunk--at one point I nearly got stuck in the plow pose and toppled over to the side and passed out on the carpet.

Concerning my upset and sadness about Z, K told me not to worry about it. All that mattered was that I just work on myself. She suggested that I cut ties from him (again) but instead I will just stay away for a bit. I had done it before for a while until he sent me the first text message in weeks, at my weak moment. But now, better armed with info about the situation, I believe I can just keep away on my own terms and mostly ignore future messages. If need be, I'll frankly say that I am done and wish to move on, therefore ending (what should be called) an obsession from my side, and cutting out the one that has made me cry more than any other man in my life for the past year and a half.

We will see.