"To look backward for a while..."

Today I woke up feeling sorry for myself, as you could probably tell from my previous post. It's funny how those feelings didn't seem to surface when I was drinking until I was drowning in them. But today it's just starting off slowly. I read the chapter "Women Suffer Too" this morning, about a woman who comes to when she's in someone's apartment and doesn't remember how she got there, considering it was in "the remote parts of Brooklyn...it took me forty-five minutes and two subway changes to get back". It took me back to a time, actually, several times, where I would get so drunk and have no idea the danger I was putting myself in.

There was that one time, before I moved to LA, when my best friend from childhood defended a total stranger over something obnoxious that I said, and I took off walking down Cahuenga Blvd. Her personal trainer friend had to walk with me for many blocks before I would even consider calming down. I didn't go back to her party, I preferred to sleep in my car.

There was the other time, at a Rilo Kiley concert, when I said something totally offensive to my friend and felt so bad and felt like she was so mad at me that I left the concert as RK was taking the stage...and slept in my car. At the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium.

Oh, and one time, I was so mad at my then-boyfriend at our first Halloween for flirting with another girl that I slapped him, we both got kicked out of the bar, and I ended up looking for him for hours downtown Santa Cruz amongst festivities, and then walked home by myself in a flapper costume.

Most recently, I gave lap dances to my friends at a birthday party (which were pretty good, I might add), and then got offended when they were concerned about how I was getting home. So of course, I take off down Magnolia Blvd. In North Hollywood. By myself. On my way to, you guessed it, sleep in my car. Thankfully, I ran into my other group of friends who convinced me to go home with them and return to my car about 7 short hours later.

So. Much. Glory. I had fun, don't get me wrong. But writing about this now and looking back at it, I feel a lot of pain, but I also feel really relieved. Relieved that nothing happened to me, but saddened by my actions a lot of the time. Then I realize, you know, I was drinking because of this or because of that, because I didn't feel loved or because I was stressed about my job. There is always a reason. But those reasons don't hold water compared to the actions that come out of them. Strangely enough, looking back this morning has made me feel better. Better because what I have now, even if it's a ton of overwhelming work from the state to complete my credential, is way better than that headache and feeling of trying to figure out what happened last night. Or those false friendships I would form in the bar, or figuring out who I offended and what I said. Now I remember who I am, and even though this path might be very difficult, it might be worth it, because I can feel again.