Days like today are dangerous. I feel restless. I want to get out of the house but I’m short on cash. I had to give up my car back in September and the bus only runs through our village every 2 hours. I can’t afford to take the bus every day and I went out yesterday. F was up at 6am. It’s now just after 1pm. I have read, drank 3 cups of tea, done some colouring in. Fed and played with the baby. My mind keeps wandering though to alcohol.
I don’t want to be drunk. I don’t want the stress of finding a new hiding place or trying to disguise the smell on my breath. I just want to ease my anxiety. I want to go through the motions which comfort me and sooth the tightness in my chest.
Leave the house. Wander the aisle. Choose a bottle. Hide bottle. My compulsions.
I don’t get smashed. A rushed swig here or a half cup there. Daring sips which both terrify and exhilarate me. Just enough to settle the thump, thump, thump.
Or if I’m alone, I’ll pour it into an actual glass and try to feel like I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t get drunk but I’m teetering. On my way . It may be months, more like weeks until the half glass turns into a half bottle turns into a bottle and a handful of pills.
And then I’m screwed.
I’ve told R I feel restless and want to leave the house today and he’s said thats cool, we’ll take F to the park or something and I feel such so much better. I still get to relieve that fight or flight feeling by leaving the house. Sometimes I just need to leave the house.