Like Being Dead, But Without the Commitment

“Drunkenness is temporary suicide.”

– Bertrand Russell, The Conquest of Happiness

I actually slept until 8am. For the first time in months (maybe years?) I think it’s mental and emotional exhaustion – all that evil overthinking. I was making great-ish progress on the packing front yesterday, then hit a wall (of bottles) and laid down for what was to be a 20 minute nap, that turned into 4 hours. Woke up, managed to polish off a bottle of wine, then back to bed. Hubs invited friends over, and the last thing I felt like doing was being social. With them, or myself. 

Sleep is just like drinking – the more of it you have, the more of it you want. It’s the perfect avoidance tactic for everything.

Like being dead, but without the commitment.

Which makes it just like drinking.

Today is the last day of my life that I am having a drink.

Or drinks. Or bottles of wine. Unless I drink on the plane (yes, this scenario has already crossed my mind many times since the day I booked my room at detox – my flight is too early to drink at the airport, otherwise I probably would. Just another example of how I build my life and plans around the bottle).

Today is the last day of my life that I am having a drink.

I need to stop thinking of it as going without. As if something will be missing from my life. There will be so many things missing, in all honesty. I will be missing the sense of being absolutely out of control. I will be missing trying to get through the day dragging regret behind me. I will be missing my lack of confidence that I turn to drinking to replace. I will be missing the guilt I wake up with every morning that bubbles up throughout the day and puts me to sleep every night.

Not missing. Missing is the wrong word. Missing sounds sad. As in, “I miss you”.

There will be an absence. 

And I’m going to do my best to replace it with things that serve me. Picking up things I left behind: art, music, writing, friendships. 

Back to my roots. It reminded me of this photo I did 6 years ago. Definitely one of the weirder ones I’ve done. I’ve never understood it, to be honest. Not sure if I’m being born from, or to, the tree. But even then I felt that hollow in my gut. The absence. The gut feeling that something was missing and preventing me from being whole.

Wanting to be alive, but being caught somewhere in between.

Back To My Roots

I’m not even sure where this post is going. On my second cup of coffee, now, I’m just starting to wake up from that rare, deep sleep.

And there it is.

Finally waking up.

That’s where I am on this journey. Despite usually only getting 3 or so hours of sleep a night, I’ve really been asleep for years.

Like being dead, but without the commitment.

I’m eager to see what the morning brings.