I was going to shut this down...

I fell apart two days ago on Day 19.  Yep.  Just a few days ago I wrote about how I was rolling right along, feeling like I got this shit handled, and two days later there was a nice bender.  Really nice.  So good that I am still feeling a bit hungover today....48 hours later.  So here I sit with my shame, wondering how stupid I looked and acted at the party I went to on Saturday night.  Wondering how poisoned I was to still feel so shitty today.  All sorts of regret, because I was so close to 20 days!

Lets think back to yesterday morning.  Day 1 (for probably the 50th time).  Woke up at 4 AM, still drunk and feeling horrendous.  Crawled out to the couch to watch TV, had some water, fought the urge to vomit (repeat for the next 3 hours).  Realized I needed some aspirin and that in order to keep it down I needed to eat something.  Had the aspirin with a small glass of kefir and spent the next two hours fighting the urge to vomit and was still afflicted with a nasty headache.  Add in the wretched, sour rummy taste in my mouth and the wretched sour mess I made in the bathroom and I looked and felt about as pretty as 5 day old roadkill in July.  Need I mention the depression, and the achy body and the lost time as I whiled away 15 hours of a beautiful Sunday laying on the couch and watching Golden Girls reruns?

Don't get me wrong, I love the Golden Girls - but laying on the couch in misery due to self inflicted rum flu for an entire gorgeous sunny day on earth is fucked up.  It just is.

I am beginning to get very, very scared because it seems that every time I get some momentum going, and then succomb to the booze again the bender is a little worse.  And I don't want to die some sort of John Bonham, Janis Joplin type of death.  I am genuinely scared of myself.  The drunk is reckless and greedy and she does not give a shit about sober me at all.

Oh yeah, and what set me off on Saturday?  What was the last straw on my sober camel's back?  Fleas.  The dog groomer called to let me know that my beloved dog had fleas and I lost it.   Spiraled out like the Tazmanian Devil.  Yesterday, as I wallowed in self-loathing I decided I was going to shut this blog down,  I kept thinking, "How humiliating to have to write about yet another Day 2, it would be too much!!"  But I have to start really looking at myself, I have to see what I really am.  And deleting the past is impossible anyway - I can shut down the blog but the events remain fact.   Maybe that can be a new tool, I will look at this whole thing every couple of days to remember what I don't want to write about any more.

So Day 2.  AGAIN.  Fucking hate this....