Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 12)

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February 15

February 15

I just went over yesterday’s journal entry. I was far too inebriated to write anything more than a slurred email to myself last night outlining what had happened, so I flushed out a few more details soon after I woke up this morning. Much to my surprise, I think I slightly downplayed things. I’m not exactly one for anything less than dramatic, but seeing how I glossed over a lot of what happened was interesting. Or, maybe it’s my Hangover Blues that are making me feel worse about everything right now.

I hardly remember Mariah’s show. I looked at the pictures Ashley sent me this morning and there are large chunks of the concert that I don’t even remember happening. When the fuck did Mariah Carey walk within five feet of me? All of that just makes me feel even shittier than I already do. I was so excited for this. Perhaps too excited. I’d been waiting for this show for over five months and I completely ruined everything.

I never want to drink again. This feeling of regret is horrible. Unbearable. Obviously, I have a problem, especially after what happened with Ashley in the casino last night. I drink because it makes me happy. It dulls my pain, allows a brief escape from my constant self-analysis, and puts a Vaseline filter on all of life’s problems. But, after all is said and done, I end up feeling worse than I did in the first place. I feel like total garbage, and even more of a failure than I already do. I’m so depressed, and my excessive, uncontrolled drinking does nothing but amplify all of those emotions.

I was in the hotel room bathroom this morning packing my things, and I had another anxiety attack, which came right before I had suicidal thoughts again. I literally thought that it would just be easier to die than to continue on like this. What the fuck is wrong with me? Who says stuff like that? I wanted last night to be so magical. There were brief moments when I was in complete heaven, listening to Mariah’s angelic voice and having the time of my life. But, I took the drinking too far, and now that’s all I’m going to remember when I look back on last night.

Today was a rough day. I think this is the first time I’m really seeing alcohol as being a serious problem in my life. I’ve seen it as an issue before, but this time it hit much harder than it ever has. Mariah’s show was something I’d been looking forward to long before I even purchased the tickets. I’ve wanted to see her do a full concert for years, and I completely ruined my experience because I couldn’t control my drinking. I’m going to look into attending an AA meeting. I’m not saying I’m giving up alcohol forever, but I need to find a way to get my life back together.

On top of everything, I’m so fucking embarrassed about how I was such an emotional mess with Ashley. It’s that, and everything else about the night that hurts more than ever before. I feel like I’ve completely fallen off the wagon at this point, and that I’m flirting with the point of no return. I feel damaged.

I pulled myself through the day, kind of silently. After Mom and I said our goodbyes to everyone with early flights home, we had lunch at Shake Shack with Aunty Judy, then relaxed by the hotel pool. Once Aunty Judy left for the airport, the two of us went to the gym and separated for a bit. I did most of my usual workout routine, and then relaxed in the spa for a while. Still in a haze, I sat in the sauna silently. Unable to stop replaying the events of last night, all I did was think about the concert and how much I fucked it up. This is a real low point for me. Mom and I wrapped things up at the hotel and went to the airport for our red-eye flight back to Toronto. I fell asleep before we took off.

I feel like I’m losing control of my emotions. I drink because it makes me happy. It allows me to stop being so uptight. A momentary escape from being such a raging bitch all the time. But, I enjoy the feeling so much that I consistently over-indulge, and that’s when instances like last night occur. Of course, it doesn’t stop when I blackout. If anything, the next day is even worse. A night of binge drinking is always followed by an entire day of depressive regret. This, coupled with all of the things I’ve been avoiding back home, add up and it’s a recipe for disaster.

Maybe this is a moment of change. Vegas was rough. I was on a really good track with my drinking and I’ve fallen. Not anymore. I never want to feel like this again.

Goodnight xo

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