The curse and comfort of alcohol

Hello again, alcohol. I did well these past few days with less of you, but I knew it was a temporary fix.

Why would I need to drink when literally in “the happiest place on earth”? I had no need to. Not that one ever has a “need” for alcohol…but still. I drank to sleep, I drank to quiet the nightmares, but I didn’t drink to escape. There was nothing in dire need of escaping from.

But now we’re back in our reality and the temporary reprieve from chaos is clearly over.

I’ve had more in these past 2 nights than I think I did the entire time I was away. It’s okay. It was expected. I’m not upset with myself because I had no higher expectations.

I want to do better, I just knew that was a very temporary situation. A bandaid on a bleeding artery.

Sometimes I don’t care. What’s the point of sobriety if alcohol clearly serves a larger purpose for me?

The title of this post implies comfort. There’s a part of me, however, that disagrees. There’s no comfort in alcohol. There’s numbness, there’s pain, there is avoidance, and I suppose that could be incorrectly labeled “comfort”….but it isn’t.

There is too much pain for comfort to exist.

Alcohol, you don’t help me. I know I absolutely insist that you do…but it’s just settling into a false reality. I can’t change what my life is. No amount of alcohol will be able to change what is.

But at least it’s a feeling, an action, that I can control. It’s my choice. Although at this point, it really isn’t. Alcohol has a level of control over me that I won’t deny. Yet still, I’ll insist it’s a “choice”.

Maybe sometimes it is. Maybe it used to be. Or maybe I’m just so used to constantly making that “choice” that it’s just taken up a permanent residence within me. I don’t know.

But tonight, alcohol wins again. And I’m okay with it. Because maybe I’ll sleep. Maybe, just maybe, if I drink enough, I can turn off the pain. Or at least parts of it.

I do know better. I know that’s not how this works. I’ve don’t this dance long enough to know that logically, this is so messed up and flawed. But tonight, I don’t care. So screw logic, and hello avoidance.

These haunted memories I’m faced to confront are literally killing me. I wish these images would get out of my head.

I didn’t think it would be this bad. The memories of him are haunting. I wish I didn’t have to hurt this badly.

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