I am sitting in a London hospital, anxious and shaking, desperate for the Doctor to come and hopefully bring me some Librium.
Yesterday I had the fantastic idea to chase 400ml of vodka with a handful of Gravol in the hopes for a permanent sleep.
I have since been informed by the kind doctor that it’s next to impossible to kill yourself with Gravol.
In my defence, it wasn’t something I had thought about, it was more of a spur of the moment decision.
Plus, you know, nearly half a litre of vodka doesn’t usually lead to good decision-making.
This year has been quite dramatic. I believe I’ve had now six hospital visits, all related to alcohol abuse.
Shocking that I’ve tried so hard to make that particular relationship work, but I think it’s safe to say it’s not going to.
So, today as I sit in the hospital across from a lady who is perpetually sniffing in triplets, I thought “fuck it”.
It’s time to get happy. It’s time to stop hurting my family and friends. Mostly, it’s time for me to stop hurting.
Oh right, and stop drinking.
So here I am. Doing something that’s utterly terrifying, but since I happen to hate my real life job (which definitely contributed to my vodka habit) and have dreams that I might even be able to make a little money from a blog, I’m starting.
If nothing else, it’s cheaper than therapy (though I am most definitely still in need of therapy).
Along the way hopefully I can learn to love who I am, learn to laugh at myself, and make a few other people laugh too (with me, not at me).
So here we go…