Day 22: Sipping on Rainbows

Dear Vodka

I found that my pillow was wet by the time I woke up.

I cried last night – in my sleep. 

The anti-depressants hit me pretty hard when I take them. What a lot of people don’t know is that anti-depressants eventually take you to an extreme low before they bring you up. I feel like crap. This just isn’t working out…

I went for a jog after I realised that Thomas was still asleep. I really needed to speak to him but I didn’t want him to worry about me again. I’d put him through enough hell already with my D&A. He was on holiday for Pete’s sake!

So, I went for a jog instead.

As I crossed the road onto the cycler’s path, I spotted a homeless man picking up his cardboard mattress and bags which he had obviously used to sleep on. I went over to him to help him because he looked like he needed the help. As I approached him and greeted, he looked at me with a disgusted scowl on his face. I motioned to help him but he mumbled on about “young kids of today” and “these privileged people showing fake sympathy to make themselves feel better,” ignoring my offer. I stood with my hands on my hips, demanding his attention. He violently waved his hand in the air, shooing me away. I sprinted home, tears pouring down my flushed cheeks, my heart beat pounding in my ears.

I told Sarah (my therapist) about it and she said that I probably felt guilty about something and that the man’s rejection triggered the emotional reaction I experienced. I felt a bit lighter when I got home but not quite okay. Perhaps I just needed food in my system. I opened the doors to the pantry and spotted a bottle of vodka. With wet eyes, I grabbed it and went into my room. I stared at the bottle lying in front of me, contemplating on whether or not to open it.

I walked to the kitchen and emptied the contents of the bottle into the sink, but not before some of it spilled onto my fingers. I smelt it, bringing it closer and closer to my desperate tongue. I couldn’t do it. I was weak now but I wouldn’t dig my own grave. Not again.

I sat under the piercing heat of the shower water as each droplet penetrated the surface of my skin, turning it pink. I sat and I sat, until I feel asleep.

I woke up in my PJs. But I wasn’t my bed. I was in Mum and Dad’s bed with Mum’s encompassing arms slowing dragging me back into the world of my subconscious…

XOX

Charlie