Heaven knows I'm miserable now.

TRIGGER WARNING: Depression/Alcoholism

I’m not going to say that I’m going to start writing everyday again. That feels like too much commitment. But I will when it feels right. 2 days ago was the first time I had put pen to paper with intention in ages and that cathartic release was something that I didn't realize I missed.. or needed. 

I’ve been sober for 3 days now. I don’t know why I felt the need to add that but... let the record show it. I’m not holding out for any specific amount of time but I think it’s best to stop completely for now. For once, I really mean it. This is the first time that I’ve felt like... I want to get better.. I might not have all the energy and willpower and know how just yet... but the want is genuinely there. 

It hasn't been for a long time. 

First I was in denial. Then acceptance. Then I.... kinda liked it. I wallowed in my depression, but then, with open arms, I leaned in to it fully. I snuggled with it.. The way you climb into bed after a shower and a long day on freshly laundered sheets. I let my sadness envelop me. I encouraged my demons to console me with a manic spiral of cocaine and tequila. And it was all ok... until you have responsibilities and you have to get out of that comfy bed but you won’t.. and then you just can’t.

                     ... and now the blankets are too stuffy.. suffocating almost.. and your limbs are tangled in the forever mess of the seemingly endless bolts of fabrics that were once your place of solace...                                                  

              .... you can't get out of this depression bed you've made for yourself

And now that damn alarm clock of life and work and rent and friends’ birthday parties and doctor appointments and family and your loving but concerned partner keeps

                       BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP-ing

on your nightstand but you can’t reach your arm far enough out of those fucking sheets to answer the call, let alone rise to the occasion... On a good day, you can stretch to the snooze button, reassuring everyone you know that you're good and everything is fine... until the next inevitable 

                                           BEEPBEEPBEEP !

and it’ll come.. because it always does.. the longer you do a bid in that bed though, the quieter the alarm gets.. because hitting snooze only does so much. 

                      no more sick days, you lose your job

                          one less BEEP

          friends get tired of you canceling, they just stop inviting

                       a few less BEEPs

    he says we need space.. to focus on ourselves.. because in trying to help me, he was losing himself 

                       yeah... that BEEP fucking hurt.

one of the hardest parts of ripping yourself out of that bed and pulling open the blinds is that it’s personal. you spend so much time with yourself.. with your demons and vices... that when you lose them, it’s like losing a dear friend. It’s like losing a part of yourself. It’s change. It’s the unknown. 

It’s like.. what am I, if NOT my depression??

whats next?

Here’s an old familiar sight

..two mangled, bruised legs beneath me.. bright pink from the hot water falling over head

      .. and a gut that spills over my thighs.. endless amounts of hot, splotchy flesh that I wish wasn't there. And yet.. there its is. Always staring back up at me.

As I sit with my head hung low, watching the streams of water trickle down my breasts on to the yellowed porcelain of the tub, I come to the realization that what started as something I only did when I was hungover has now turned into a mindless habit.

          - I had become a pickled, glazed over sponge on accident.

God. If i could see this from an outside view, I would twist my mouth with dismay.. or maybe just pity.

Sad, lump of a girl sits hunched over on the floor of the shower.. chin to her knees, as water berates the back of her head.

             Fuck.

I must look like the last gooey gnocchi stewing in the bottom of a bowl at an Olive Garden salad bar.

Unwanted. Alone. And just kinda fuckin gross.

This is the point where I would lay down and flip on to my side.

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen! Because the only thing besides sitting in the shower that is more bereft of hope, is laying in the fetal position!

For what it’s worth, It’s comforting. With my legs covering the drain, the tub quickly climbs with water and my left ear rushes full. Its soon met with the sweet, soft underwater whirring of the distant water heater. Eyes closed, listening to the droplets blanket my body and dance on the surface of the rising tub water, my mind is blank

                                                .... but in a good way

This is the only way I’ve found peace. For maybe 5 minutes or so.

Once the water level reaches my nose, I obviously have to get up. Goddamn breathing always getting in the way of everything. My meditation has ended. I’m visibly upset.

When I get out to dry off, I try not to make eye contact with Her. I don't know Her. I haven’t in months. But it’s hard.

Mirrors are real fuckers,