I'm Treading Water in a Sea of Vodka

A slice of lime is my flotation device.

I realize this isn't healthy, it's not even sane, but I am not at a point where I care. I see myself doing less and less, caring less and less, and I don't care. Which I guess makes the less and less redundant.

I go to work, I come home, I fix a drink or two or three or eight, and then I go to bed and I do it all over again tomorrow.  I'm rarely hungover and actually, until that final drink hits me, I'm rarely drunk. That's probably not a good sign.

It worries me more and more how little I need to do to get by and how much I know that. I don't take the trash out, I haven't checked my mail in two weeks. I feed the cat, I do my dishes, my car has no gas. It was too much work to stop and put gas in it this morning. When the low fuel light comes on, I'll fill it up. I haven't done any school work, I didn't even enroll this semester. I buy instant stuff for my lunch. I always buy a piece of fruit or two, then I carry them around until I throw them away. I have lived for the past two weeks on PB&J and instant Mac & Cheese... and crackers.

I don't want to see anyone and really, if anyone knew how I really am, they wouldn't want to see me. I've canceled plans even though I rarely have any. Something comes up and I fix a drink and say "Maybe next time"

I don't know what to do, but I know that as long as I don't care, no one else will either. It seems kind of like a whirlpool that I'm not sure I stand a chance of getting out of.  I'm afraid to sneeze because if I do someone else might die. I spend most of my time wondering who will be next and hoping it's me. Not in a "I want to die tomorrow" way, but in a "I just can't say good bye to another person right now, please just keep everyone safe until I'm gone" kind of way.

I really usually only cry when I drink. It feels good to cry. It's so much work to hold it all in and act like it's ok all the time. I know I can't crumple up and give up, so I go to work, I pay my bills, and then I pour myself a drink and I let go. And let myself go. And let my life go. Going, going..........gone.

Wallowing

I was going to spend this weekend with a girlfriend. She was wallowing. I understand wallowing. Just take a day and wallow. We are entitled.

I have done that. I'm sure people are tired of my wallowing. I'm tired of my wallowing. It doesn't make it less important however.

I'm sick of being sad. I'm tired of crying. I want nothing more than to just move on like nothing ever happened, unfortunately it did. I can't move forward. I can't move on. I can't even freaking move.

My cat is even being nice. That's scary, she's not a nice cat.

Do you think one day you just wake up and all the pain you've felt for all of these months is just gone? I don't know, I'm asking. Where does it go? What happens to it? I was just starting to feel normal and my niece died. My beautiful 27 year old Down's Syndrome, happy all the time, give her an action hero and she was content, niece. She was so beautiful.

Her and Benjamin didn't know each other, I hope they do now. I can see Benjamin taking her hand and saying "Come on with me, I'll show you the way around" and I can see Betty saying "Let me tell you stories about your Aunt Kari"

I'm acquiring quite the collection in this place we like to think of as Heaven. I don't believe in Heaven, but I don't believe our souls die either.  I feel Benjamin, I feel Betty. I miss them both more than you can imagine but I think they are here, somewhere, and I feel their warmth. I see things that make me think of them, make me feel close to them and I send them kisses.  I wonder if people think I'm crazy when they see me pucker up and send a kiss to the Heavens:? I hope so.

I don't open doors...

Someone knocked at my door a minute ago. Do you know I wasn't even mildly curious to who it was. I don't open doors. I wasn't expecting anyone, my house wasn't on fire, I don't open doors.

It's funny, I watch tv shows and people open doors. Someone knocks, they open their door. I find I'm  kind of amazed by that. My new addiction has been Nip/Tuck. I could go on and on about what a terrible show that is. I watch it, but it's kind of like smoking crack, I know it's bad but I watch it anyway.  For God's sake they had midget sex in Season 4, how exploitive is that? But I watch it....and what always amazes me is how Christian opens his door. If there was ever anyone on Earth who shouldn't just open his door, it would be Christian Troy.

Anyhow, the point is....my doors are closed and locked. Physically, emotionally and in every other way I can lock them. What's in is in, nothing else gets out, don't knock.