It’s Friday night and I feel like drinking. I was torn about whether or not to walk into that store and buy that bottle. I chose not to. I still want a drink. I tell myself it messes with my medications. But drinking feels good. No, I can do this. I can stay sober. One drink won’t hurt. One turns into two turns into three. Go home. Don’t go to the store.
I am filling my void by eating instead. Comfort eating. Whatever I have available. Eat, eat, eat. I tell myself it feels good even when my stomach feels too full. This is not a binge. Not even close. There are so many things I could do with my life. The possibilities are endless. I am young! But I cannot see that far ahead. I’m concentrating on tomorrow whence I can sleep in and then see my therapist. I don’t really want to feel right now. I want to be numb. I could have been drinking right now.
Today was average. I made it through work. I had my three cups of coffee. Oh, and kudos to me: I am not currently suicidal. I won’t have to call the suicide hotline tonight, or the warm line. I’ll probably try to find some entertaining documentary on YouTube and pass the night that way. I could go to bed but really it’s too early for that. What do depressed people do to entertain themselves? Is it time to go jump off a bridge because I have nothing else to do? That’s the way my mind works. There’s always that threat there of my mind taking over me. Calm it down. Calm my mind down.
My house is lonely. It’s just me here. I’ll be interviewing a potential roommate later tonight. I hate that this is a stranger that I am prospecting to live with for the next year or two. I hope she’s not as horrible as my last roommate. I definitely don’t want a couple. One person is more than enough to have to deal with.
There is a void within me and I cannot figure out how to fill it. I think it will always be there and I will have to contend with that fact. I feel empty. I don’t feel like a real person. I am just a shell of a person, walking around, doing what is expected of me. I don’t really live and I only have the faintest idea of what living is really like. For so long, I wasn’t me and I didn’t get to live my life the way I wanted to live it. He controlled every aspect from what we watched on TV to the clothes that I wore. It was not real living either. So, in my adult life, have I ever really lived? Not since I was about 20.
It’s now two hours later and I am done with my roommate interview. I feel better right now in mood because the young woman I interviewed has an upbeat personality and is really sweet. I hope she decides to move in. I am trying to entertain myself by sending text messages to people I know. I say it that way, because I don’t really have any friends that I feel super close to. I am an island with people around me in boats, but they haven’t parked their boat because there’s no room on the island. How’s that for a metaphor?
I must now go entertain myself by reading other people’s blogs and finding video mini documentaries online. More musings later.