I also have to fight this urge to keep sleeping and sleeping, since I know that can be no good. I wake up at 6 in the morning and stare at the ceiling for an hour or more before getting another few hours; this has been happening more lately. I had a dream this morning that my little brother and I were in middle school. All of these kids start chanting and teasing him as their freckled faces turned red. I tried to shout and stop them, but I was drowned out by their incessant jeering. Make of this what you will - my dreams also involved crashing a family picnic where little kids chain smoked and then learning about a pansexual samurai who could turn into a fat pigeon...
My web writing job assured me that I don't need to worry about hitting my quota this pay period; this is good since I'm no good for doing research and following SEO guidelines at the moment.
I didn't drink all yesterday, which I know is nothing in the long scheme of sobriety, but I'm starting to feel more sane and be able to focus on one thing at a time. In terms of seeking help, I've decided to start every morning off with writing as an attempt to reflect and make sense of the day before. I know that it won't always be enough, so I'm searching for support groups too.
Yesterday night, I had to rush to meet my date, although I felt like a nauseous zombie. I took a taxi to the bed and breakfast, and the taxi driver was too nice. He kept asking me if the temperature in the back was OK and if I minded if he took Lakeshore drive. I nodded and grunted and tipped him when my shaky hands could find the $20 bill in my wallet. I dropped off my bags, met the B and B family rather quickly, and called my Dad to see about the day. We both paused for a little bit when I told him that I was hailing another cab to take me to a restaurant to meet my date. It still seems that New Orleans events will be a day-by-day endeavor, so I don't know what I'll do yet. I tip the second driver %50 and all but jump from the car.
When I meet my date, she is more beautiful than I remember. At first I thought her eyes were blue, but they're actually green and stunning above her smooth, dark chocolate cheeks. She's young (20) and smart; her family is from Belize, and she tells me that she's had professional clown training in addition to switching her major six times - her latest wish is to be a broadcast journalist. I'm startled that she seems to like my rambling, almost hysterical conversation. The waitress comes by to take our drink orders. I try not to touch or even look at the drink menu - just water please - gulp gulp.
We try to find a coffee place after dinner, but none in my old neighborhood are open. I hold her hand but stop in embarrassment when I realize that my palm is super sweaty. She gives me a ride back to the B and B, and I kiss her cheek before kissing her lips. I want to enjoy the kiss more, but my heart's not in it, since I know that I have little to offer her at this point. We agree to try to get coffee some time, although I say I won't be in town for long.
This was yesterday; this morning I realized that a sick part of me (the same part that was disappointed when I found out that I no longer had cancer) wants things to get worse. I'd like to be a powerless victim and not have to make decisions. In my sleep-addled state, it seems like a trap door that covers a black hole in my mind. I'm doing my best to keep it closed on day two of getting my shit together.
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