I'd be lying if I said the past week or two has been easy. For they have in actual fact been hell. It's just been a trying, trying time.
Someone who knows about what happens when you stop drinking, said to me, “I know why you have this anxiety and crap at the moment. After 8 weeks, the shit finally starts to come out.”
It's like the clarity has become to much. And the one thing I cannot deal with or bear right now is anxiety. I am having around 2 to 3 panic/anxiety attacks a day.
This last week has been especially hard, because:
1)My relationship with my father, well I love him, he's my dad I'll do anything for him if he needs me, but I just can't be close to him right now. In fact, we are not in contact at the moment. I don't think I've ever been close to him, actually. It's heartbreaking, and hopefully after we both sort our shit out, we can try the bonding thing again.
2)My mother doesn't understand why I can't be close to my dad.
3)747 has been away a lot lately, and very stressed at work, and it's been quite hard. I have missed him.
4)I am having salary issues (late payment). Stop orders have flung me into the negative. Because someone at the top forgot to pay us. Again.
5)That's why I'm frigging just about to crack. Oh wait, I did. I screamed at work yesterday to the point where passers-by in the passage turned to stare, not to mention the attendees in the office itself. I properly lost my rag. Who knew I had such a BOOMING voice? Impressive. So let's assume, safely, that this 'salary stuff' will become a priority from now on.
I am a natural worry wart. That's normal, but this newfound anxiety has been quite debilitating. I had three drinks on Friday– as promised - at my mate's birthday party.
It went like this:
1 x white wine (what the fuck was I thinking)
1 x celery juice
1 x white wine (christ woman, not again)
1 x celery juice
1 x bubbly stuff that I presume to be a champagne of sorts (....)
1 x celery juice.
Maybe one more glass of wine. But the jury is still out.
I'm quite chuffed. I mean I stuck to my guns, and sure, I felt a little not-quite-completely-sober after that, and I certainly hobbled to my car, almost breaking an ankle, but whatever. Oh and I indulged in one of those stupid shit-talking philosophical conversations one tends to have after a few toots, which made about as much sense as algorithm coding, and I also found most of the jokes going around to be really funny. It's amazing how alcohol makes you do such predictable things. But! I certainly didn't go hammer and tongs, and politely declined the shooters going around. Ha!
I think my liver thought I'd booked it a ticket to fucken Malibu, when in fact it was clearly on its way to Newcastle.
But it must be said that I was on tranquilisers the whole time.
After tears and angst this and last week, including some untimely attacks where I thought I might possibly die, I have been swallowing many a tranquiliser. Panic attacks consume you, they are fuccccked uppppp.
Where have they been all my life?
It must be said that the insert does state that these particular tranqs aren't addictive, don't have they any side affects like drowsiness, nausea or the feeling of being stupendously high the whole time. Not that I'd give a shit. Because I'm going to be taking Biral for as long as I live. Suddenly you're not in a fucking panic! Biral speaks sense, it shuts the world up, it just makes me not overreact and not panic as a result of my thoughts.
Everyone say “Hi Biral,”, to my new guardian angel. Despite a few fine motor-coordination effects, (like dropping a few things?) they don't do anything except help my mind to rest a helluva lot more when I should be almost in tears. To stop thinking and spiraling into this fucking abyss of self-doubt and chaotic angst at least 4 times a day, it does it's best to affront this. It just.....smoothed the rough edges.
I'm hoping today will be yards better than yesterday. Last night Ant was in town and popped in for dinner. Again, hell I miss that girl, if only Sepoenda wasn't so far away.