I’ve got to quit drinking. Again. Too many people have told me so: family, friends, acquaintances, psychiatrist, GP, social worker, liaison officer, strangers, my own brain, blah blah blah.
The thought of not drinking makes me want to cry a lot so I’m not going to think about it. I just know that I have to get sober again. I’ve accepted it. It is something that I have to do. I’m going to a rehab facility on Monday; I’ve avoided the place for years but I have to do whatever it takes, and it’s my only option left. Which, at 22 years of age, is sad.
There is method to my madness – I am being sensible.
A breakdown is coming: something will happen soon that will throw me into a suicidal stupor, and it is best that I am not drunk when this occurs. I cannot be drunk when R.L’s baby is born, or else I will certainly do something stupid. I don’t know when it’s due but it must be soon. I can’t face it. Knowing how he will be so happy while I will be so sad. I can’t. I’m going to hide for a couple of months and ride out the storm. I hope that they don’t name it any of the names that R.L and I chose for our babies. That would hurt.
Must get sober, must get sober, must stay alive (?)
But first: one last blow out.
#655321
Will we be able to talk at all while you are gone?
Yes doll, I’ll be participating with the service as an outpatient, thank goodness. Hope you’re well, I’ve missed you! X
I like the spirit. There’s a method to the madness: you also have to keep writing.
I have a love hate relationship with alcohol.
Must stay strong. X