Saturday, September 11, 2010

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.


  1. Kay, you're deeply depressed, and no wonder. Please talk to someone. Make a doctor's appointment. You can't go on this way. It's okay if you can't do this alone. Most people couldn't. Please, please, call your doctor. He or she should be able to refer you to a grief counsellor or a support group. You don't have to live like this :( Your son would want you to be healthy, wouldn't he? If not for yourself, then for his memory, whatever it takes.

  2. Everything I read above sounds like a mirror image to my current life. My Dad passed in February and I'm still l o s t, .. so don't be too hard on yourself.