Last night I drank like a 16 year old having her first taste of rebellious freedom.
I drank until I was sick.
And then I drank some more.
And do you know what?
I’m just not okay.
I feel like I’ve spent a few weeks wanting to be ‘fine’ so badly that I started pretending I was ‘fine’ and then I started believing that I was ‘fine’. But I’m not.
Not yet, anyway.
I didn’t plan to get drunk. I’m not a party person, I rarely drink, I don’t abuse alcohol or drugs. That’s not my release.
I don’t know what is.
I started with a harmless cocktail after going to the cinema with a friend. I had a pint or two in a local bar and then I went home. I picked up 2 bottles of wine on the way and when I got in I went and found a bottle of whiskey I bought for Jonny’s funeral.
I was buzzing, non stop chatting to my sister; talking so fast and changing the subject so often she couldn’t keep up.
That’s a combination of my medication and alcohol. It’s not a good mix. It’s why I don’t drink. I feel terrible enough every morning I wake up, why would I want to add to that?
And then I was hysterical. I don’t remember much but I was inconsolable. I was screaming Jonny’s name in between vomiting. I was begging my sister to let me die, to help me die…
The rest is pretty cloudy but I woke up this morning, half dressed, in a sick stained bed. My floor had vomit over it. I’d spilt a cup of water across the things I’d saved from the funeral; my notes, the service programme, sympathy cards. My hair was greasy and my make up was smeared. My face was puffy and blotchy from crying. Everything stank of vomit, alcohol or stale cigarette smoke.
That was a low.
I’ve gained perspective (and a hangover).
For someone who’s the polar opposite of any generic ‘skins’ character, I’m not used to waking up in a state after a wild night of excitement….
This was just waking up in a state having drunk myself stupid to try and drown out the pain in my head.
In that moment, I hated myself more than I ever thought I would.
I’m not okay.
This has to change.