Alcohol #4957

I could have labeled all sorts of days with a number, if i’d been with it enough, days of exposure to drunkenness not my own. Right? So say we all? (kindof? maybe not.)

Today I was supposed to have lunch with an old friend, but he was drunk, so the lunch didn’t happen. Yes, he has a problem and yes, he knows it. And yes, he lashed out at me for cancelling saying all sorts of things about what I was thinking and saying, none of which I thought or said, none.

It makes me immeasurably sad.

There are so many days, hours, moments, memories lost to alcohol, or whatever the drug is. millions of them. I feel it keenly, how many years of memories I have on my own, even though someone else was there. A nice lunch that we both miss out on because a bottle held the power. It would’ve been so nice to catch up. VERY different weights to those two examples, but still. So much lost. So much sorrow.

I’ve been realizing lately how fluid my boundaries are, around so many things. but not this. there is no way i’m wading into the mire of alcoholism ever again. but man, makes me so sad. and part of me is mad at myself, that sorrow is still my feeling… but honestly, what else is there? when someone is so determined to erase themselves. . . shame and sorrow and run run away.

I don’t even begin to understand what it is like, and I’m not naive enough to believe it some skill i have, to not be a victim to it. luck of the draw and genetics maybe, but I’m crazy lucky that it is not a problem I have.

Here’s to crazy luck. Don’t raise a glass. or do. we’re good.

love you,



Old socks. in which i.

Its not that super a day. All the facts are that I am completely competent. I’ve got the trash out for tomorrow because I forgot last week and woah, the recycling is out of hand. and, this post was actually mostly prepared already, so I don’t have to tell you how much I still want to punch something. I was pretty damn emotional yesterday and had a hard time and didn’t talk about it very much. So, there is still a little sludge to work through this morning. I will be writing. OH yes, i will. (PMS, and reactions to stuff from yesterday and hatred for people who drink too much. i want it not to be hatred but it is very very complicated, right? I.AM.NOT.CRAZY. and its not hatred for you, if you drink too much. just look at it, okay?)


It might not be surprising to note that I do not enjoy the cold. I LOVE winter, but I like it for the warmth that I can find in my many blankets, boots, sweaters and leg warmers. Yes, leg warmers. They are a new addition to my life, and very important. The snuggles, the cozy nest I have made of my house.

I have, evidently, reached a real pinnacle of adulthood. It is time to release what has worn itself out, what no longer works in its intended capacity.

socks. must.go. these are the socks of my marriage. pretty, wool, striped, now worn so thin that i’m constantly poking through them. translucent. no longer providing warmth.

the metaphor game is strong here and i don’t know if I can be bothered to fill in the blanks today.

there is much still to be tossed of my old life, and yesterday was very sad for me, lots of old choices and feeling trapped and just a lot of teary drives to do the errands. Masks really do hide a multitude of things.

and so my plan is, today, to work and write and go through my sock drawer. These are the corners which must be hunted out and eviscerated. let the fire of my cold toes cleanse me.

(i mean it, and yes, i laughed.)