I’m sitting alone and sober in my hotel room, after 5 days of drinking until I stumbled walking. I’d have done it again tonight if I wasn’t made to hand over my alcohol and my money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What am I running from? This pain in the center of my mass that feels all-consuming — well I’ve felt that before, and I stayed sober. Honestly, I feel that pain any time I’m left alone long enough with my own thoughts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What did I have to lose that I’ve now lost that makes the consequences of drinking so much less severe? Hope — maybe not for a better future, but instead just that I’d be capable of tricking myself that the pain had gone away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’ve buried this pain before and I just can’t seem to do it again. It’s like I’ve hit rock with my shovel — I can’t dig any deeper, and all the other problems I’ve buried have filled the hole and become level with the surface. I don’t want to face it. There’s no way to dig myself out of this one and I’m scared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I could stop drinking, but I don’t want to. If anything, I may just start using everything again. I’m not overwhelmed by a lack of inhibition — it’s a thought-out choice to no longer be in pain and to push myself a little closer to the edge. If I could just get drunk enough, just get high enough, destroy my life just enough that the pain is truly unbearable even when I’m far from sober — well then maybe I can just end it. There’s nothing I want more than for this pain to end. I’m just scared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I really can’t figure out why I’m not ready to end my life now. I think that there’s people stopping me, but I don’t feel like that’s fair to them or to me. For some people, I don’t want to hurt them — my mother would be hurt, and to a lesser extent I think my father would be as well. I think other people give me warmth, and ultimately, I think that’s what needs to end. It’d be truly better for all of us if they didn’t stand in my way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’m frustrated because I’ve craved that warmth for as long I could remember — I’ve set myself on fire for it. M, Ma, K, A, C — countless other men whose moments of intimacy led me to feel less alone just for a minute. I could delude myself into believing that there was someone capable of wanting me despite my scars and my open wounds. But I ultimately chose someone that I’ve always felt alone with. There’s never been a single moment where I felt like D loved me, understood me, cared about me, wanted me, or was capable of seeing the world through my eyes. I’m his possession. It hurts so badly because I know for certain that it’s the best I deserve and that I’m probably even lucky to have him. He deserves a better wife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’m disgusting. I’m lucky to have D tolerate me. It’s truly absurd to think that I should throw him away when it’s been proven time and time again that any semblance of warmth I feel from someone will go away. I just need to put on a jacket and stop trying to find a reason to live in others. It’s just so intoxicating to not feel like you’re barely being tolerated — to feel like someone wants you there and that you’re not just a burden who’s falling further into debt by virtue of every polite act they do for you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the opportunity arises, I’ll be cutting off those who show me warmth. That’s what got me into this mess — and it’s not their fault. I had a jacket on, and I took it off because they made it tolerable without it. I can’t handle it when they’re gone, but to put the jacket back on I have to convince myself that they’re liars. I can’t make my home life tolerable when I can compare it to something else. I’m not entirely sure that the something else isn’t just an illusion anyways. So fuck it, what do I have to lose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I can learn to live with the pain as long as it never stops hurting. I can’t just leave him instead – it would be cruel. Who knows, maybe I love him? I feel myself cringe even just writing that, so I’m much less sure of that.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’m sitting alone and sober in my hotel room, after 5 days of drinking until I stumbled walking. I’d have done it again tonight if I wasn’t made to hand over my alcohol and my money. What am I running from? This pain in the center of my mass that feels all-consuming — well I’ve felt that before, and I stayed sober. Honestly, I feel that pain any time I’m left alone long enough with… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/57"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=57"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/57\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":86,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/57\/revisions\/86"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=57"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=57"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janedoe.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=57"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}