Story Time: My Daily Numbing.

I want to re-create/re-live my day to day morning routine when I was at my lowest point. Now that I'm sober, I can vividly remember this routine. I feel like I'm watching a movie about someone else's life. This can't be me. I wasn't THAT bad. But I'm realizing when you're in the thick of your numbing you can't see clearly. No one could've convinced me that I had a drug and alcohol problem. In my mind I'd say, "I don't drink EVERY day. I take a couple days off here and there. GEZ everyone needs to CHILL and let me do my thing."  I try not to judge myself too much. But when I look back at the things I've done, I can't help but feel ashamed. I guess this is part of the healing process. Re-visiting your mistakes and the people you've wronged. It's painful, it's hard, but finally it's something REAL!

Story time!

I take out the bottle of tequila from underneath the sink and grab a shot glass from the cupboard and place them on the counter.  I'm not sure what time it is.  I'm pretty sure it's sometime in the morning, maybe afternoon. I'm leaning against the sink, holding myself up right. I look in the mirror. I notice my eyeliner and mascara have created a raccoon look around my eyes. Your'e such a mess, I think to myself. I can see the anxiety on my face. I see the thoughts and reality setting in. What did I do last night? Who was I with? How did I get home? I look tired, hands shaky, feet not grounded.

I pour the first shot. I hold the shot in my entire fist because I'm afraid I might drop it. I look around for a lemon or lime to help cut the taste.  I don't see one.  Water will have to do.  I cheers to myself in the mirror, here's to getting normal.  I slam it to the back of my throat and swallow. The burning sensation is what I live for.  The burning travels down my throat, passing my lungs reaching my stomach. There I am.  There is where I feel my best.  Coating my stomach with power, strength, and beauty.  Forgetting the ugly, horrible dark place my mind was just in.  

This is absolute freedom.  After the first shot, I'm alive.  There she is.  Wow look how beautiful, strong and unmoving you are.  You're so skinny, legs so long and a smile so big.  Well, if the first one made me feel this good why not take a second?

Pour into glass, have my water in the other hand, shoot it back, chase with water.  Feeling a little more dizzy this time.  I look in the mirror and there she is, the other side of me.  My ultimate self who is witty, strong and doesn't give a fuck.  She loves sex, dancing, and any drug you put in front of her and then some. I start riffling through my things to see if I had bought a bag of cocaine the night before. I need to stay on a perfect combination of alcohol and cocaine if I want to do this life thing.

I continue to get ready for my day. I take a shower, eat some breakfast, drink some coffee, while simultaneously taking shots of alcohol in between my getting ready. I don't usually have the confidence to leave the house until I've had at least 4-5 shots of tequila, or vodka. I paint on my face or if I'm feeling adventurous I'll skip wearing make-up, because fuck it. I have my liquid courage pumping through my veins to keep me beautiful. Isn't this shitty? I'm reading through this and all I can say is, wow you are a shitty person Molly.

I pack my essentials for the day in my backpack. They include: Water bottle full of liquor, check. Make-up, just incase I decide to go out tonight, check. Extra underwear and a toothbrush, incase I don't make it home, check. A bag of cocaine if I have one, check. Bike lock, actual water, and a power bar, check. This is all a girl like me needs. Such a simple life, I think to myself. I couldn't be burdened with more stuff. That would be asking too much. I like having the bare minimum. Not because I'm an activist to save the planet, not because I'm a traveling gypsy and definitely not because I'm just a hippie chick who doesn't need much. It's because I have a problem. A HUGE PROBLEM. I don't have any self worth, so I feel I don't deserve more. I keep it simple because my drug and alcohol fueled mind only has room for those two things, drugs and alcohol.

That's what my day to day consisted of. Waking up, 'getting normal', packing my essentials, and then biking off to find my next high. Pathetic, I know.

My ex and I came up with a name for me when I get black out drunk, Yllom.  Molly spelled backwards.  Because that's what I become after my second shot, backwards.  A mirror image of myself much more accepted into this world than Molly.  She likes to claim that no one knows her.  She likes to tell the people she loves the most, to fuck off.  She lives for those one night relationships with strange men and strangers with drugs. Yllom also had a nickname once, Hurricane; a storm with a violent wind.  I'm surprised there isn't a natural disaster named after Yllom.  I can see it now, front page, dangerous whirl wind rages through the west coast.  We're calling this disaster Hurricane Yllom.  That's what I become after my second shot; dangerous actions and violent words blowing out of my mouth.  I salute the people who've made it out alive.  

I feel sorry for anyone that stands in Yllom's way.  I feel sorry for anyone that loves Molly.  Because with Molly, comes Yllom.  It's a package deal.  We're like Siamese twins attached by liquor and drugs.  Their personalities are so opposite.  One so scared and fragile and the other so strong and unmoving.  Their personalities collide creating a perfect storm of a person.  

Maybe we all feel this way about ourselves.  Maybe we all have two sides to us, just like there are two sides to every story.  Maybe without the other part of yourself there is no complete human.  Maybe we need these two conflicting sides in order to adapt to life's always changing cycle.  You need that one side to be brave and face fear head first and then you need that tender, sensitive side to learn love for yourself and others.  I was trying to figure out my two sides while intoxicated.  I see now that it's impossible to get to know yourself while lost in addiction.  It was too hard for me to think rationally, it was too hard to care about anything or anyone.  All I cared about was finding the next party.

I'm starting to think I used drugs and alcohol to help me stop thinking.  I have so many thoughts, so many stories and ideas in my mind.  I'm almost overwhelmed by all the thinking I do now.  I wasn't thinking before.  I was drowning.  I was drowning in that third shot of tequila every morning and I was dead by that tenth shot every night.  Then reawakened by that line of cocaine to help repeat the cycle of my running.  

I've finally acknowledged that I have a problem.  I literally feel like I'm reborn and starting all over again.  I'm excited, I'm scared and I'm lonely.  But this is better than shaky hands, pounding headaches and regrets from the night before.  

Now every morning I look at Molly in the mirror, where I first met Yllom, I raise my glass of water and cheers to accepting that no one is normal.  We are all shitty and we are all beautiful.