Day Three

So I have not had a drink since Wednesday night.  It takes me longer to fall asleep.  This is understandable because I would always have a cocktail with my Seroquel at night so that I would fall asleep within 15 minutes.

I was drinking throughout the day.  Since Thursday I have been attempting to trick my brain by having orange juice mixed with flavored sparkling water.  I don’t know if it is possible to trick the brain.  I can tell you this for damn sure….my taste buds are not fooled. It feels like my taste buds are jumping up and down screaming.  “Hello!! WTF is going on?  Vodka please!?.”

My history is such that when one vice/unhealthy coping mechanism improves, another gets worse.  So there is more going on here than just quitting the booze.  I have a small cut on my stomach that was not there before Thursday.


Heel Heal

I cut the back of my heal.  Just a little nick.  Just enough to make it bleed…to peal back dead skin and prevent it from healing.  With each step it hurts.  Part of the goal.  I deserve to suffer.  

I did this at 15, after my mom died in her sleep.  I did it at 23, when I was desperately lonely.  When I allowed myself to be used. Now, I do it at the age of 54. My dad died 7 months ago.  It still seems unreal.  It feels like I can’t feel, but isn’t that why I drink? To get a break from feeling and constant racing thoughts.

When I read this post it’s like wait. Can you feel or can’t you?  Is it possible to feel and not feel at the same time? 


Do you remember that round circular thing we used to play with as kids? It is a bunch of circles connected and you could make it move back and forth.  That is how I feel now.  Again, I have come full circle. In all aspects.  Job, emotions, bad habits, bad ruminating thoughts.  It is hard for me to drive because I can picture the roll over accident that killed my father. I am in Texas and we have been having torrential rain.  My daughter and I were out in a storm, which by the way the sun was out ten minutes prior, and I was gripping the door handle so hard my hand was numb.  My doom and gloom thoughts kept repeating over and over louder and louder….”You are going to die, you are going to die,”…I was in tears.

The Hardest Part

The hardest part about death, in relation to those left behind, is that you will never see them again.  Out of the blue I am crying again.  Trying to remember the last  time I saw my father, prior to December 3rd. 

As the tears flowed down my face,  I thought of all the times that I have fantasized of killing myself.  I would not want to be responsible for inflicting that sort of pain on my daughter and boyfriend.  However, my daughter is a therapist.  She would be hurt and angry,  but she would understand.

I always thought when I stopped self-injuring, the suicidal ideations would go away.  Well, I was wrong. I self Injur much less than any time in my life.  Yet I still do not want to be here.  I don’t understand.