Change
I have come up to that point in my life where there it’s the beginning of the rest of my life. I have come across a fork on the road where I can stay on my path and always be miserable or find a new me and maybe enjoy myself. I am afraid that if I don’t try something new I will lose the people I love.
I am a terrible drunk. I feel like a stereotype. I yell at strangers or friends, I become doubtful, and easily irritated. Symptoms can become worse depending on the situation. I feel like one day I am going to get a broken bottle to the neck. Aside from what I do to others, the nastiest part is what I do to myself. See, if I have more than three drinks I don’t remember anything the next day. Even if I wasn’t gone I am not able to recall most of the events and have to rely on others to tell me. I spend the entirety of the next day literally slapping myself, talking to myself, calling myself stupid or worse, and telling myself at the end that I don’t care. Its becoming too much of a ritual. Drinking should be fun. Drinking should be a treat. Drinking should go with dancing, board games, wholesome conversations…not about treating yourself and others like shit.
I am going on a drink strike for a week where I hope to clear my head. I plan to have a two drink minimum after this trial period. Even then I will wear shorts under my skirts.
My mom didn’t raise me to become this. My friends didn’t ask for this. My husband doesn’t deserve to be made to remind me that someone loves me on command.
I hate myself and it’s exhausting.
Day 1
I am a terrible drunk. I feel like a stereotype. I yell at strangers or friends, I become doubtful, and easily irritated. Symptoms can become worse depending on the situation. I feel like one day I am going to get a broken bottle to the neck. Aside from what I do to others, the nastiest part is what I do to myself. See, if I have more than three drinks I don’t remember anything the next day. Even if I wasn’t gone I am not able to recall most of the events and have to rely on others to tell me. I spend the entirety of the next day literally slapping myself, talking to myself, calling myself stupid or worse, and telling myself at the end that I don’t care. Its becoming too much of a ritual. Drinking should be fun. Drinking should be a treat. Drinking should go with dancing, board games, wholesome conversations…not about treating yourself and others like shit.
I am going on a drink strike for a week where I hope to clear my head. I plan to have a two drink minimum after this trial period. Even then I will wear shorts under my skirts.
My mom didn’t raise me to become this. My friends didn’t ask for this. My husband doesn’t deserve to be made to remind me that someone loves me on command.
I hate myself and it’s exhausting.
Day 1