superdeluxe
12-14-2003, 06:47 AM
Part One.. The Day After
Sunday 8.00am I really didn't mean to do it but it had been so enticing, so delectable looking I just couldn't help myself. By it I mean him. Another man, another night, why, why do I keep doing this? I crawled out of bed into the bathroom. As long as I moved slowly with my head held at the same angle I would be able to make it... not quite. A painful 15 min later of gut wrenching bile up chucking I manage to keep my regurgitation down long enough to swallow a couple of Nurofen Plus before crawling back in my bed again. Ahh sleep…
1pm… I roll over; thank god he’s gone.. I don’t feel sick anymore but I almost wish I did because this is when the worst begins. Depression. A gut wrenching, pure emotion of despair. I remember in my younger years jumping up a few bare hours after the night before and going about my day like I had just stayed in to watch a video. A few years later, there would be a little seediness and perhaps the feeling of not wanting to face anyone. Another couple of years and I’d have the slight feeling of unhappiness with the strict rule of sticking to water only. Years on it’s a full-blown day of giving all my energy over to stop myself from slitting my wrists. I try to focus that tomorrow this black cloud will be gone. If I can just make it to tomorrow… The problem is, it’s starting to last longer then a day now, maybe a couple, maybe 3 but if I can just get through it the light of the norm will come back… I hope.
3pm. Today is particularly bad. A storm has just started and I’m cowering under my sheets knowing full well this is the end of the world and God is about to strike me down in his wrath and I’ll never have a chance to repent, I’m doomed to hell. But even in my state, such as it is; I am sure this is just a slightly delirious notion and I must try to keep my mind on track. Think of something else… maybe if I turn on the TV and watch some trash I’ll forget. No, not a good idea, what if the lightning strikes and blows it up? My house would be on fire and I could be trapped and die, or, worse still, I may no longer have a TV set. Ok, some semblance of humour in check, this may be getting better.
3.15pm The phone rings, crap, who could it be? I fling my hand over to the phone all at once remembering that there is a storm and I could be electrocuted through the ear. I decide to play it safe and not answer. Instead I haul myself out of bed and grab a box of tissues on the way. Sniffling and crying I stand out the front of my home trying to stay under the 5cm shelter the eave gives me so I can have a cigarette. As expected it tastes absolutely disgusting and as I cough and sputter thinking that I smoke way too much when drinking I push myself to finish it anyway.
4pm. Desperation hits in, the storm is over and God has not yet striked me down. I need help. I can’t live another moment feeling this way. Who can I talk to? Of course, the ex. The poor ex who gets these calls every week as I bawl over the phone saying I can’t handle my drink any more and this is truly it. Crap again. He’s not home. Instead I’m stuck with his non English speaking mother while I try to choke back my tears long enough to get off the phone without her realising I’m a complete lunatic mess who was very bad for her son.
4.10pm Alcoholism. I start to ponder why it is I keep doing this. My father was an alcoholic, his father was an alcoholic, and I wouldn’t have a clue about the rest but they probably were too. Am I an alcoholic? I don’t think so. Do you think so, perhaps you do, but my friends would disagree I’m sure. I am just like any other girl in Australia. I like to wind down from work and have a little fun on the weekends. If I didn’t get so blue afterwards then I would just be like the rest of the nation, my only crime being that I’m patriotic.
Monday 7.30am Thank God Sunday is over, not yet my best but no longer am under the mistaken impression that my body temp was too hot and surely I was going to be the rare case of self combustion. I sit on the train with my sunglasses on. Everyone has their sunglasses on and it’s not even light. Perhaps we are all still recovering from our patriotic weekends of pissing it up at the local and making complete fools of ourselves. I think back to Saturday. For some reason my memory is not quite the same as it use to be. Where were we again? Oh of course. I try to remember how I got to that club. I give it up as a bad job. 10 more min and all I have to worry about are getting my reports in on time. Work sucks but it’s nice at times to have something to think of besides all the people you screamed at the top of your lungs too explaining how you really are a virgin, but are just non practising. I sometimes find that it is a bad thing to watch movies or have deep discussions prior to going out, because as sure as anything, that is what I am going to end up sharing with everyone by the end of the night. Non-practising virgin… where on earth did I get that little gem from. When I was 17 I would think back to my night out and have a little chuckle and think how funny I am. At 29 I tend to think back and shudder. I often wonder if I really have lost my memory or I’ve just gotten good and pushing the memories back so I don’t have to face them.
To be cont…
Sunday 8.00am I really didn't mean to do it but it had been so enticing, so delectable looking I just couldn't help myself. By it I mean him. Another man, another night, why, why do I keep doing this? I crawled out of bed into the bathroom. As long as I moved slowly with my head held at the same angle I would be able to make it... not quite. A painful 15 min later of gut wrenching bile up chucking I manage to keep my regurgitation down long enough to swallow a couple of Nurofen Plus before crawling back in my bed again. Ahh sleep…
1pm… I roll over; thank god he’s gone.. I don’t feel sick anymore but I almost wish I did because this is when the worst begins. Depression. A gut wrenching, pure emotion of despair. I remember in my younger years jumping up a few bare hours after the night before and going about my day like I had just stayed in to watch a video. A few years later, there would be a little seediness and perhaps the feeling of not wanting to face anyone. Another couple of years and I’d have the slight feeling of unhappiness with the strict rule of sticking to water only. Years on it’s a full-blown day of giving all my energy over to stop myself from slitting my wrists. I try to focus that tomorrow this black cloud will be gone. If I can just make it to tomorrow… The problem is, it’s starting to last longer then a day now, maybe a couple, maybe 3 but if I can just get through it the light of the norm will come back… I hope.
3pm. Today is particularly bad. A storm has just started and I’m cowering under my sheets knowing full well this is the end of the world and God is about to strike me down in his wrath and I’ll never have a chance to repent, I’m doomed to hell. But even in my state, such as it is; I am sure this is just a slightly delirious notion and I must try to keep my mind on track. Think of something else… maybe if I turn on the TV and watch some trash I’ll forget. No, not a good idea, what if the lightning strikes and blows it up? My house would be on fire and I could be trapped and die, or, worse still, I may no longer have a TV set. Ok, some semblance of humour in check, this may be getting better.
3.15pm The phone rings, crap, who could it be? I fling my hand over to the phone all at once remembering that there is a storm and I could be electrocuted through the ear. I decide to play it safe and not answer. Instead I haul myself out of bed and grab a box of tissues on the way. Sniffling and crying I stand out the front of my home trying to stay under the 5cm shelter the eave gives me so I can have a cigarette. As expected it tastes absolutely disgusting and as I cough and sputter thinking that I smoke way too much when drinking I push myself to finish it anyway.
4pm. Desperation hits in, the storm is over and God has not yet striked me down. I need help. I can’t live another moment feeling this way. Who can I talk to? Of course, the ex. The poor ex who gets these calls every week as I bawl over the phone saying I can’t handle my drink any more and this is truly it. Crap again. He’s not home. Instead I’m stuck with his non English speaking mother while I try to choke back my tears long enough to get off the phone without her realising I’m a complete lunatic mess who was very bad for her son.
4.10pm Alcoholism. I start to ponder why it is I keep doing this. My father was an alcoholic, his father was an alcoholic, and I wouldn’t have a clue about the rest but they probably were too. Am I an alcoholic? I don’t think so. Do you think so, perhaps you do, but my friends would disagree I’m sure. I am just like any other girl in Australia. I like to wind down from work and have a little fun on the weekends. If I didn’t get so blue afterwards then I would just be like the rest of the nation, my only crime being that I’m patriotic.
Monday 7.30am Thank God Sunday is over, not yet my best but no longer am under the mistaken impression that my body temp was too hot and surely I was going to be the rare case of self combustion. I sit on the train with my sunglasses on. Everyone has their sunglasses on and it’s not even light. Perhaps we are all still recovering from our patriotic weekends of pissing it up at the local and making complete fools of ourselves. I think back to Saturday. For some reason my memory is not quite the same as it use to be. Where were we again? Oh of course. I try to remember how I got to that club. I give it up as a bad job. 10 more min and all I have to worry about are getting my reports in on time. Work sucks but it’s nice at times to have something to think of besides all the people you screamed at the top of your lungs too explaining how you really are a virgin, but are just non practising. I sometimes find that it is a bad thing to watch movies or have deep discussions prior to going out, because as sure as anything, that is what I am going to end up sharing with everyone by the end of the night. Non-practising virgin… where on earth did I get that little gem from. When I was 17 I would think back to my night out and have a little chuckle and think how funny I am. At 29 I tend to think back and shudder. I often wonder if I really have lost my memory or I’ve just gotten good and pushing the memories back so I don’t have to face them.
To be cont…