The self loathing that starts at the 4am wake up call, the dry mouth.
Piecing the last night’s events together. What did I do/say? How did I get to bed? How much did I drink? Blackouts are the pits!
The all-absorbing thought stream about how much you will drink today, where how and who with.
The pre-loading of drinks when you go to a party where the crowd drinks too slow for your liking.
The amazed look on the check out person’s face when you do your weekly shop. “Having a party are we?” No actually that’s just my weekly alcohol consumption sans social interaction or occasion thank you.
The chaos surrounding an alcohol fuelled life, the confusion and disruption.
The lack of rest and sleep.
The black shadow following you around telling you that you are killing yourself and damaging everyone around you.
The denial, justification, lies you tell yourself to make the next drink ok.
Trying to moderate and failing! There is nothing more soul-destroying than trying to climb that fucking moderation mountain and feeling like a complete and utter failure every time you drink too much which invariably happened most days.
The dry skin and red eyes, the puffy marshmallow face.
The red blotchy cheecks and veins around my nose.
The drunken arguments with my husband that turned really dark and nasty.
The sinking black feeling like you are closing up like a telescope.
The eternal jingle jangle of my recycling bin.