I haven’t mentally adjusted to my significantly lower tolerance, so when I do drink I forget that 3 drinks is a lot fuckin’ more than it was 3 months ago. And I had 3 1/2 last night. And they were 6-8% beers WHOOPS WHOOPS WHOOPS.
I’ve been tracking alcohol intake by number of drinks, since I was only drinking San Juan seltzers and everything was the same ABV. No need to keep track of anything but the number I consumed. Now that I’ve been switching up type of alcohol, but I’ve continued to only track number of drinks instead of volume + ABV. Which. IS A MISTAKE, I now realize!!!
IT’s all good, yo. I won’t be too hard on myself considering where I was 3 months ago. The MAJOR issue–which was the habit of drinking either every night or every other night (depending on how much I had the night before), seems to be broken AF. Faster and easier than I ever expected it to be broken. I’m not pumped about these hangovers but I also have confidence in myself to keep trying, keep paying attention, keep getting better.
Anyway, I had virtual HH with GirlCrush last night which was fun, but also… idk. She struggles with staying on topic/listening, which I can absolutely relate to but sometimes it’s just TOO MUCH. She asks questions but interrupts the answers. She starts to answer a question and gets sidetracked almost immediately, then sidetracked three more times, and we’re miles away from the answer by the time I try to pull her back. And when I do, she usually gets distracted AGAIN so I STILL never get the answer. Fuckity-fuck.
I like her and I care about her and I want to know about her life! I wouldn’t try so hard to get her back on track if I wasn’t interested to begin with. That’s part of why it’s so frustrating at times? Lots of people just talk for the sake of talking and it doesn’t bother me. I just let them do their thing, a passive participant in their one-person show. But it’s more challenging when I actually care, and I’m tryna get a clearer picture of her current emotional state.
She’s still a delight and I’m glad we talked. Also LORD KNOWS if there were ever a time to be forgiving of word vomit, it’s Quarantine O’Clock. She lives with her husband and two young children, which is theoretically more of a social outlet than being alone all the time, but it certainly doesn’t completely fill the void left by… not leaving the house, lol.
But it was fun enough. She’s a cool person.
Several days passed. When the fuck did I even write this? Friday. FRIDAY. Now it’s Monday.
I was going to write about how I’ve spent my whole adult life training myself to actively listen/not talk over people/hold onto topics so I can say my piece and still allow folks to finish their thoughts. And it was hard. It was VERY FUCKING HARD, because my tendency is to word vomit, monologue, and forget other people exist. So I think I find myself being extra judgmental of folks who don’t do that. But you know what? That’s a load of bullshit. Not everyone has the same capacity to change their natural urges. Some people do a whole lot better than I do, and some people have OTHER SHIT TO WORRY ABOUT, so maybe give everyone a break, eh kid?
But instead I disappeared for three days.
Zelda and Zardoz came over yesterday. We talked some, played Just Dance 2020, they watched me play some Superliminal until I got too self-conscious about how bad I am at video games (especially when I’m tired, three-drinks sleepy, and full of pizza). So I quit playing and they took off around 8:30.
It was a great time! (Also: afternoon hang seshes that end in the early evening? YES PLEASE/ Why the fuck was I not doing this my entire life? TIME BEFORE BED TO DECOMPRESS FROM A SOCIAL ENGAGEMENT IS BETTER THAN SEX.)
Also: they were the first guests in our home that we moved into ALMOST ONE ENTIRE-ASS YEAR AGO.
And will probably be the last!
I pointed this out to LP and he was like “I’m sure we would have had people over if not for, you know, the world,” and he’s probably right. I likely would have had the team over at some point. Zelda and Zardoz would have come over before now. Shit, LP was even starting to make a friend before this happened, and he planned on having that dude over at some point.
It’s just weird to think… I’ve lived with this person for a year and I still don’t really know what it’s like to… LIVE with him? I know what it’s like to exist on pause with him, but not actually live.
I’m planning on asking him today if he’s down with me getting an AirBnB for a few days at the end of the month. Just to… decompress from the social engagement I’ve been at for about 10 months.
I can feel myself losing perspective on what it was like to live alone. Which I knew I would, but it’s still disconcerting to watch myself idealize an existence that I know had a WHOLE HELL OF A LOT of downsides.
Like, yeah, I love being alone with my thoughts for the first few hours of the day. Getting up early has been a reminder of how much I loved that. When I get up at 6-7, I drink coffee and literally pace and talk to myself for several hours.
Okay, maybe not several hours. I usually get distracted by a task (like writing this. Which, I actually sat down at my laptop to respond to a comment but instead I saw a half-written entry open in my browser and HAVE I MENTIONED THAT MY ADHD DRUGS DON’T PARTICULARLY WORK ANYMORE AND I’M ALMOST OUT BECAUSE I’VE PUT OFF CALLING THE DOC????), but there’s probably at least an hour of pacing and… mouthing or whispering thoughts to myself.
For obvious reasons, I cannot let other humans witness this.
If I ever wrote a memoir, it would be titled “Fictional Conversations With Real People” and it would be a recording of imaginary conversations I’ve had with my friends as a way to process my experiences and feelings. That’s what I do. That’s how I process. It’s a mostly-internal, partially-external method of self-reflection and I need to be alone to do it. Even if I was comfortable with someone witnessing this process, I wouldn’t be able to pull it off with the distraction of another person.
But this constant monologuing turns against me at a certain point. Weekends were always tough for me, although I was loathe to admit it. Midday, I’d start feeling the urge to drown out the thoughts with whatever substance was available. I oscillated between weed and alcohol.
If I did neither, I would find myself drowning in anxiety instead, with no apparent source. I could blast a podcast into my ears while working on a semi-engaging task, but even that wasn’t enough to distract me from the anxiety unless I threw a mind-numbing substance into my body while blasting a podcast and working on a semi-engaging task.
Socializing helped. But socializing is another source of anxiety. I’d have to work my way up to choosing one anxiety over the other, which means I often didn’t do it at all.
Having someone around who doesn’t make me anxious is, I think, a good thing. I just need balance. And balance isn’t an option for anyone this year.
My ideal life would be me and all my friends, and whomever I’m fucking that year, living in the same apartment complex and hanging out a lot while also respecting each other’s space and need for alone time.
I just pictured a wasp hive, which is deeply unpleasant imagery but kinda representative of what I want.
Actually I’m… fairly certain this isn’t true, but I remember reading about a particular species of wasp that will build a hive together and live in their separate holes. And when one of them pops out a baby, the others get all “ugh fine i guess you can borrow some sugar” and “sure, go facefuck some plants or steal steak off a barbecue, I’ll keep your stupid babies alive while you’re gone.”
That’s what I want. Communal living with some semblance of privacy. I WANT TO BE THIS TYPE OF WASP I THOUGHT EXISTED BUT AM NOW PRETTY SURE I MADE UP IN MY HEAD.
But I don’t have friends to move into a complex with and I don’t have the option for ANY kind of privacy right now, so I gotta make due with what I got, my dudes. Which is a boyfriend who loves me and a small house we share and a lot of friends who care about me and are willing to listen to me rant, either in real life or in my head, for hours at a time while I try to figure out what the fuck it is, exactly, I’m looking for and why the fuck it is, exactly, it’s not what I already have.
Which is happening again today around 2, with Other City Coworker. He’s driving down so we can walk it out, and maybe we’ll sit outside and drink a beer which I’ve now done twice since the shutdown and hate myself for.
I think I was the last person I know to hold out. I think I was the only one still fighting the re-opening. But I still gave up. So I’m still… I don’t know what I am.
I’m a social creature, and that’s a weakness and a strength. I need to remember both sides of that coin. But in this instance, it’s a weakness. Fear of ostracization trumped my code of ethics. Not really sure where to go from here.
But I also need to remember that my main reason for not going to bars was because I don’t want to infect the fucking staff. And since I don’t see anyone without masks and 6+ feet of distance in outdoor spaces, and neither does LP, I’m almost certainly not getting folks sick. And if I get sick FROM a bar… The only two people in my bubble (one of whom is the only person who’s been urging me to go to bars) are leaving forever, so GUESS I WON’T BE INFECTING ANYONE BUT LP.
I’ve one HUNDRED percent lost the plot on this entry. I need to fuck the fuck off, goodbye.
Oh right, the title is from this song that has been penetrating WAY THE FUCK TOO DEEP INTO MY EARS LATELY.
FUCK i never wrote that comment response lol lol lol lol lol lol bye for real