10 minutes till they stop selling liquor near me. That’s more than enough time to get out of bed, get dressed quickly, and get fast to the gas station. I mean just the rush of rushing it is fucking stimulating.
Then drive home quickly, I live like 3 min away from that gas station. I know what’s next. Is opening up like 3 bottles and chugging it down very fast. It’s been 8 months, fuck, the hit will be exhilarating and pleasure will flood my brain. And the taste alone. I will need to buy a lot this time because I need it to last till 7 am, that’s when they start selling alcohol again.
I will be loading Battlefield 4 game while taking care of my first beers. I know it takes like 3 minutes to load. I always loved playing. Same map like over and over again. Game becomes awesome when you drink. I like the graphics itself and it is action-packed.
It is interesting to shoot. Who doesn’t like guns, every boy does. Pleasure overload. I miss not caring. Fuck the job and fuck the feelings. Fuck lying to myself about a better future and pretending that coloring, binge reading books or any type of shit like that will ever change anything. Deep down I am still the same and sobriety land doesn’t want no fucking drunky. It’s not my land. I am just a guest here. There can only be artificial highs here and the lows will always be back home on the drunk land.
It started yesterday night and I wrote this through the day at work on my phone. When I got home I wanted to continue expressing my feelings/cravings but I couldn’t. I stopped.
I was seriously about to get drunk and fuck everything.
I decided to go to BOP (Basic Outpatient Program). I guess it’s not bop anymore ’cause I graduated. I was seriously triggered beyond my control.
Honestly, it was a shock to my whole system to go there. I became anxious and nervous as hell. I started shaking and just felt that I was losing control of my body. Tried to act as normal as possible but I definitely was kind of a weirdo because hey, I fucking forgot this world doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up! So if you just want to fucking sit there in the corner somewhere and pretend that no one can see you guess what? you automatically stand out.
I swear I was about to take fucking lorazepam. Don’t you think it is fucking ironic that I went to the rehab (that’s where my bop is) with the medication in my pocket that the guy sitting next to me might be addicted to? I know the group counselor is… Wtf?
So we have two fucking short breaks, the group is for 3 hours and I spent all of them in the bathroom hiding trying to get a hold of my anxiety and the whole nervousness. My brain was overloaded with information. I wish that they had one of those glass windows that you can’t see through like in the police interrogation room so I could sit behind it and observe the group.
I am just so happy that they didn’t try to make me talk. I would have probably had a seizure. It’s hard because I didn’t really know all the people, and I have lost all the comfort I once had when I used to attend the group regularly. It used to be my safe comfort zone till I stopped and kind of went my old ways, which I do like being alone.
Why I stopped going is because of hearing the same fake shit over and over again. Idk how the person whoever does the group can do their job. It is brain damaging. Give me a bucket. I shall puke!
Every time the routine pattern brakes down, my feelings pile up into shit
That happened today at work. I was in a super good mood too at the beginning, even abused coffee (had like two cups). I guess maybe someone quit. Idk I loved working with that person because I had limited responsibilities and I could let my mind go on pilot. I really liked her for not dumping her feelings on me and not demanding me to always talk to her (I’m not someone’s personal entertainer!). I liked how we would just work without talking, it was like we synced.
I guess what stressed me out is that if I get to have her responsibilities, I have different way of leading. Idk plus she seemed to be extremely gifted at the details, which for me doesn’t come naturally. I have to work on it by being present, that means I can’t be in my head (that’s my voice in my head telling me this shit nonstop, no wonder I go crazy when in reality it’s not such a big fucking deal, Jesus).
So add this to me having this blown-ass craving and you have a recipe for a relapse. It’s funny that group counselor passed out all the same shit papers about relapses that I just blogged about. I mean thats where I got the notes from.
I noticed something about my habits after bop
I went to the same old routine. I guess going there triggered them. It was automatic and much needed! Luckily those habits were the ones that help me cope with stress. Good old bath, candle, driving around and going to the store: oh and don’t forget tea. And I am about to color the picture for this post. They are not in order. I obviously drove and went to the store first.
What did I learned?
I learned how badly these cravings suck. I know that if I can’t answer the question “why don’t I care about myself?” I am in deep trouble and probably have already relapsed mentally.
Anytime I go through the bad craving/urge, something changes in me. Although I do need my alone time, often I am alone for too long. I don’t like stress, but social stress in the end makes me feel more alive, and it’s hard to admit that.