I was actually back yesterday because, while I felt overexposed after my last writing, something in me just felt sick of the thought of waiting for some other lonely night to reach out again. Like what am I waiting for.... the absolute bottom? I couldn't write though. I just looked at this post box for hours having no clue how to respond after writing what I did. I don't like talking about it and now another hour has passed again trying to figure out what to write because everything I write just feels wrong.
I don't want to tell you how bad it was growing up, or how I actually am doing well in a lot of other areas of my life because everything that comes out of me right now, even though it's truthful, just sounds like ********.
I guess the only thing I feel like saying is that I'm able today to identify with the bad feelings sober since I wrote last. My normal pattern is not to think of it at all, until that numbness caught up to me with the need to bury myself in alcohol, like the teenagers that cut themselves "to feel" - used to do that too until someone noticed. I'd just get this wave of anxiety not knowing what was wrong, but I'd always find the pain at the end of a bottle.
I've been sober since I wrote last. Not a huge accomplishment, under 48 hours and I did have half a glass of wine yesterday because when DH comes home and has a beer, it's just "our thing", except he has one or two and goes to bed, and I sit up all night and finish the bottle. But I didn't yesterday. I actually didn't want to.