My relationship with alcohol has always been a rocky one. My drinking patterns getting worse as I’ve aged and gained independence. Lately my relationship with it is starting to scare me. I’ve always been one who knows their limits. I’ve never blacked out or puked. I have puked maybe a totally of 3 or 4 times but it was privately and never at a social setting. But because of my high tolerance, frequency and habits, I am starting to worry about myself.
On Saturday, I drank a little too much and when I stood up I fell in front of me. All on the cans near me. My nose is a little sore, and I have a bruise on my upper lip, and a little cut near my right eye. Then when I thought I learned my lesson. I drank again on Monday. Too much too fast. I have a problem. If I’m treating alcohol like water where it just goes down so easily. I’m going to get burned. I was up most of the night just from the effects of drinking too much once again. I had shivers. I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid to.
Things are getting out of hand. I really need to quit. Or stop for a while. I drink mostly out of loneliness. I’m here living in a foreign country. In the backwaters of no where. No one to talk to. No one to share things with. I need people. People I can talk to and share myself with them. I think I need that, but I need to take responsibility too. Just saying it out of loneliness is an excuse. That’s the trigger so now I need to find alternatives to fill in that time.
When I am drinking sometimes I might think to myself, “I don’t care if I die. I don’t care what happens to me.” But just how can I say those things to myself? I don’t feel like myself anymore. Even when I buy alcohol sometimes I feel like my own stomach is crying out. It knows what it will be going through again. I’m tired of being in my own skin. I want to change. I know I’m gradually killing myself. I want to break this habit.
I need to keep with this desire.
Everyday. Every hour. Every minute. Every second.