The Inevitable, It Happened….
I had trouble sleeping last night. It happens when my head doesn’t shut the fuck up. I lay there and recite any Simpsons episodes I know by heart to try to clear my mind from any thoughts so that I could fall fast asleep. I’ve been doing this since I was a little girl. My episode choice, the Lemon Tree. Last night that episode replayed over and over in my head too many times to count. It eventually worked but not before the feeling of guilt filled embarrassing shame was able to wear off as I am still feeling it two days later. I’m feeling it deep down in the pit of my stomach. It feels like the complete opposite of butterflies. This is the feeling if maybe the butterflies were wearing boxing gloves and upper cutting my insides. That’s what that feels like. Saturday was filled with regrettable choices. Choices that sober Karina would have never done in a million years. But sober Karina lost the battle. Two shots was all it took after a day filled with beer drinking. And down went the downward spiral.
I was left alone by 5:00pm. The husband had to abruptly leave the party. He was indisposed. And there it was, my fear of literally feeling alone in a room filled with people. Beer was my companion. As long as I had a drink in my hand, it was ok. I didn’t feel as alone. I should have stopped there. I didn’t. The next stop was a bar. The bar is where it gets hazy. The bar is where it happened. My word vomiting mouth. Talking out of my ass is a given when I get switched to hard liquor. And that I did. I did it well. Well enough to hate myself the next morning. The parking lot was the worst. That is my regret. The word vomit didn’t get held back there. And there was the man, listening to everything I had to say. And boy did I say it all. I think miserable was used more than once and clearly emphasized. It’s not far from the truth but at the same time it is. And I’m sure my daughter was mentioned. I think about her day in and day out. Keeping it in. When liquid courage sets in, I talk about her openly. And almost always instantly start to weep becoming upset. We hugged it out. I think he was possibly trying to get me to shut up. He was kind about it. I can’t remember much though. So what else was said is up in the air. And I’ll never know. Maybe it’s better that way. I won’t have any interactions with the man for a while. Again, it’s better that way maybe. The husband keeps reassuring me that I’ll be fine.
I hope so. and I need this feeling to go away because right now it sucks ass. I just want to feel normal again. Withered away in my corner and left comfortably alone. To sum this misery up, in the words of Sir Kid Cudi: “Oh, God, why did I drink so much and smoke so much, ah Ah, fuck it” Yea, fuck it. This definitely isn’t the first time, and most possibly isn’t the last.