- Kristoff: Foot size?
- Anna: Foot size doesn't matter.
- Kristoff: Maybe not to you, sweetheart.
So I’m sober enough to realize I am super lucky to have a roommate who doesn’t judge me. At all. Ever. Like, I kinda went to her reading for class and drank way too much and came home and proceeded to vomit in our sink while talking to her. Like…mid conversation. And she just acted like it was nothing and either she or her girlfriend proceeded to give me water and painkillers and out me to bed.
I realize now that being in a room of mildly to super attractive,successful and talented people who are in college and making something of themselves, either by a. Having parents rich enough to send them b. Being on scholarship because they are that awesome or c. Being able to finance it all …. well, what I did wasn’t right but I understand now that I am at a huge risk for relapsing if I don’t get help. I started getting anxious and felt ….like too many emotions. My fucking roommate is super talented and her writing is amazing (no…really…I literally like…only really connected to or liked….maybe just her piece now that I think about it) and I was just like ‘oh hey two bottles of wine? Imma drink you in like an hour’
I feel super guilty about doing that, but at the same time, I know it was a reaction to me being in a very uncomfortable and triggery event and having no medication or therapy for months. I think seeing people bettering themselves, with romantic partners and family supporting the hard work they do….not struggling to pay rent and eat (ohhhhhh yeah that reminds me I’m still $600 short of rent this month) and like ‘oh what pretty clothes do I wear to my vapid reading of unrelatable and self servicing drabble and wow, my purse is like … a few hundred dollars oh this wine is so good’ and faculty who I swear, have a ‘middle class worker life that isn’t paid for by a trust but instead hard work’ fandom obsession (no really like otaku of the real world) just made me angry and jealous and stupid and I drank too much.
Question is…how the fuck does my mother live like this on a daily basis? Like….she let’s her depression and anger and loneliness and sadness consume her to drink like this daily. This is horrible. I’m puking every so often and I’m in intense pain and regretting ever starting to drink last night. I want to call out of work and just wake up not hungover from wine and depressed and sad. I am also super proud of my roommate and I had a good time with her and her gf but omg.
Lesson learned. I’m working on my resume and applying for office jobs with health insurance so I can get back into treatment and on meds asap. Dreams of working a flexible job and going to college have to end. I’ll have to work full time and try to find time for school.
Times like this….im super angry with my family for allowing /guilting me into leaving school and providing for them and never having a chance to be in my 20s and getting my degree. Now im almost 30 and I just feel so fucking hopeless.
I’m done. /ragequit