I don’t talk about her much because she’s a good person and has been through enough as it is she doesn’t need the extra grief of me talking shit behind her back, which I could prevent myself from doing for only so long haha
And she’s known me for years and years, since “way back when” and I was … different then I guess
She remembers me when I was funny and happy and could smile without having to think about it first
She remembers my optimism. A time when drinks were the exception as opposed to the rule
(She’s known me for a while all right haha)
One day, I asked her what she thought of all the drinking
This was over the summer, when I was first drying out, first trying to piece together what the fuck actually happened (and for how long, why, the extent of it, the damage done, all that fun stuff you do when you wanna get better but at the same time really love punishing yourself)
She was out on the back porch, which in the summer is the nicest part of the house, really. You could spend hours just sitting on the porch doing whatever, which used to be drinking to excess but has since become boring shit like reading and looking at the garden
It was a sunny day and she had a Blue Moon going
(It’s always only ever Blue Moon or wine going with her, which is fine by me cos I hate both of those, so there’s no … temptation …)
I asked her and she took a moment first but this is what she said
I was worried you would die in your sleep
That was it
She thought a little bit more and drained half the beer and thought some more
There wasn’t anything for me to say. I sipped my ginger beer
I thought about what kinda drunk I was (the belligerent kind, the shit-stirring kind, but also the happy-sloppy kind). I also remembered a few times, just on the verge of passing out, when I worried maybe I wouldn’t wake up
You hear stories about apnea and all that. We had a few regulars kick the bucket in their sleep, and how sometimes drunks who aren’t in the best shape lung-wise or heart-wise, sometimes that’s how they go, apnea in their sleep
And I have a heart thing, it’s nothing big but I have it, it’s hereditary (or congenital, I forget which) and so yeah I remember worrying a few times
In the middle of all the other worries - why’d I drink so much, what’d I say, did I buy anything, is this the bed or couch - I worried bout just living through the night
Or if I’d wind up like Mary, Rickshaw, Five Buck Chuck and all them, just breathing, snoring, all irregular, with hitches and catches and then long spaces in between, like ten seconds at least sometimes, and then … nothing
Which is a peaceful, perfectly fine way to go
To be honest, if I’m gonna go, then hey, let it be in my sleep where my heart just stops
My heart just stops and I leave this realm for the next and everything’s okay
It’s not up to me and I’m not even aware
Let it be in my sleep, all right
She went back to water the garden bed
I looked at the hammock, thought about all the afternoon naps after lunch beers
When we first moved into this house, with the nice back porch, the yard, the big trees that make it hard to grow grass, I would have a few in the afternoon and then crash in the hammock for a few hours, and I told myself it was the good life. It was reaping the rewards
But I coulda died then too
Just as easy to get apnea in the hammock on an afternoon as it is in the actual bed at night
A few weeks before this, when I was still drinking hard and heavy but also starting to entertain the possibility that maybe I should think about perhaps drying out, I did two things
I talked to myself and left notes for myself
This happened for a while
The notes were for the next day
Little messages for my future self haha
But the talking happened in the middle of it, right smack dab in the middle of whatever jag I was on (usually gin or beer), after they were both long abed, and I was at cross purposes with myself
Staggering around drunk, knocking stuff over, probably waking them up, scribbling on post-it notes
Here’s what I said:
I hate myself I hate myself so much
I wanna die can I please just die
I could die and that would be fine
Lemme die in my sleep
No one cares and that’s just a fact
I coulda stopped but I didn’t stop
Why can’t I die??
You stupid you stupid you stupid you …
He doesn’t deserve this she doesn’t deserve this
You’re gonna die you’re gonna die you’re gonna die
If you live, you better change
Go to bed, close the door, hide
Don’t ever do this again
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid
Die just die already just die
Here are the notes I left for my future self (which I saved and are now binder-clipped and in my pen and bric a brac drawer):
I forgive me
It’s okay
You had to do it today but you don’t have to do it tomorrow
This is fine
You’re not alone
Have one less drink
You have a problem
Don’t hide from this
Apologize!!
Buy them something nice
There are a few with drunk-handwriting so bad, who knows what I wrote, haha, and then there’s this one, which I stuck to the coffee pot
You’re not so bad
She woke up first and that’s what she saw when she switched on the coffee
It was stuck to the counter when I finally got outta bed an hour later
You're not so bad, not at all. <3
🤜🏻🤛🏻, Squirrel. Not easy, and also don’t forget to keep looking forward too.