February 19, 2024

I did it again yesterday.  I drank too much.   Not like Saturday, but definitely more than I wanted to.  Why?  Well, the morning started with a hair-of-the-dog to stave off the anxiety.  After the movies, Craig and I headed down to the Art and Wine Festival.  I stayed aware and observant.  I noticed how he was making his way straight to the wine tent.  I asked him to settle down, enjoy the art.  He scoffed sarcastically, a bit degratingly, and said its a wine festival.  No, its an art festival.  Hah!  Look at me noticing the pull, the drive, the need.  We got our tasting cup; he thought it was a joke how small the pour was.  I pointed out that a tasting pour is only ever a couple of ounces.  These ounces were disgusting.  I sipped enough just to wet my lips and thought, "Why the fuck am I drinking this?  It tastes like grape juice with a chemical aftertaste.  And I don't even really like wine!"  So I poured my ounces into Craig's cup and sipped my water.  He was appeased, my mouth was happy, and I spotted a beer tent.  More up my alley.  Afterwards, we went to two different bars and had two pints at each bar.  I stuck with the low alcohol beers (go me!).  9 drinks yesterday.  Altogether, 9 drinks over an 11 hour period.  You would think that I would be okay today, but the nights are blending into the days and everything feels confusing.  I haven't slept a full night in years.  Last night, I slept 3 hours, was up for 3 hours, and back to sleep for another 3 hours.  Everything feels like a dream state; my waking hours blend into sleep, and sleep blends into awake, leaving me hollow and disconnected from reality.  Enter anxiety.  Constant anxiety.  Mostly from alcohol, I'm sure.  

I woke up craving beer.  Just enough to relax me to get some more sleep.  But I am sipping my tea with the fresh lemon juice.  So comforting.  Whether I drink or not is up in the air, but I am giving myself space to feel this discomfort.  I feel it in my hands.  Not shakiness, just fatigue.  My head feels torn between mush and what I want to be, who I want to be.  The Christina I know is getting restless and wants to be heard and seen and loved again.  But then there's the not-me-Christina who is craving a beer at 7am.  My eyes feel gritty and heavy, though not as bad as I thought they would.  While my brain is saying, "yoga in the backyard!" my body is saying fuck no.  

So this is what the discomfort feels like.  When I quit over 3 years ago, I welcomed the discomfort and saw it as healing.  This time is different.  I see it as punishment.  I see it as an open door to.... to what?  Freedom?  Healthy living?  Authenticity?  Motivation and rested sleep?  Yes.  That.  So why am I so afraid to push through the discomfort?  Because life is hard.  It really isn't; I 'm not even working right now.  I'm not sure why my fingers typed those words: life is hard.  But I will have to face a few major things:  I am not working and I don't know when I will have an income, the boys are growing up and when they leave, it will be just Craig and I.  And do I even love Craig?  He's a good man; patient and caring, but he's too old to be so defensive and living in such denial.  I know I need to be on my own path and he is on his, but I think if I walk through that open door I will have to face the fact that I'm walking away from him, from us.  And I'm lonely enough already.  And there it is.  Loneliness.  We went out with Geoff last weekend and the conversation was invigorating.  With Craig, its beer, wine, weather, kids.  There's not sustenance.  But it's comfortable.  Maybe I'm looking for something that doesn't exist.  I just wish we could talk, like really talk.  We try; we get frustrated, defensive, and I feel lonelier for it.  

I'm getting way ahead of myself.  I will spend the next couple of days tapering.  When will I have an AF day?  Thursday.  There, I said it.  Thursday it is.