Drunk

It’s 3:44 PM and I’m very buzzed. I’m always tipsy, buzzed, high or eating.

Why do I run from everything through numbing? It’s the easiest coping mechanism in my back pocket. Don’t want to feel? Well then, pick your damn poison and let it fly away.

Today I am tipsy, but I need to work. Why am I not taking anything seriously?


 

It’s 9:46 PM and I’m no longer buzzed. I was pretty close to full on drunk earlier. Two heavy pours of wine with just a half of sandwich and a string cheese in my stomach got to me more quickly than I had anticipated. I wrote this entry above, drunkenly sent an email to excuse myself from the work meeting, and went to sleep for two hours. My computer still open right next me.

I was supposed to be in a work meeting this afternoon, but I didn’t go.

I wanted to make zucchini for dinner, but I didn’t.

I wanted to clean my house, but I didn’t.

I wanted to work out and practice yoga, but I didn’t.

I wanted to not drink, but I did.

I’ve cut myself a break long enough. I responded to a worldwide crisis in the way I respond to most disruptions, and that is by checking out. I drink and smoke and eat too much. Or don’t eat at all. I don’t cook or clean. I stay up late and sleep in. I don’t run or read or write.

And all of these are fine things when you still get your shit done, but I’m not. And well maybe when they’re not all being done at the same time. But I’m doing them all.

 

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