Anaesthetic

I anaesthetised myself tonight.  I didn’t mean to, of course. It sort of sneaks up on you.  7 weeks with nothing but sobriety and perspective have taken their toll, though, and I needed to escape.   Although I felt the loneliness most deeply this afternoon, it was during cooking at around 8pm that the bottle of wine on the worktop called to me.

I drank it all.  Not because I needed it or wanted to, but because I wanted to numb myself for a brief while.  The lack of contact from the guy I like combined with absolute feelings of worthlessness meant that it was a relief to temporarily remove myself from things.  I have to admit that it has worked.  I’m not staring at the phone any more, checking if he’s online.  I’ve enjoyed myself this evening.  I’ve cared a little less.

To those who are worried (and thank you to those who have previously sent messages) – I’m not an alcoholic.  This isn’t a header off a wagon.  The only repercussions for me will be in terms of carbohydrates.  I’ve lost around 30lbs.  The 20g of carbs in a bottle of wine will knock me out of ketosis and put me back to square one, but right now, still slightly drunk, I know I’ll do it.

Why do people stop caring?  That’s the thing that’s in my head. If someone goes from multiple messages a day to not getting in touch for days at a time, that means they’ve lost interest, yes?  I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, and right now that’s haunting me.  As I said last time, it’s not good to value yourself based on the affections  of another, but as one more guy goes down the road of ‘I don’t care about her’, it hurts.

I’m enjoying the anaesthetic.  There won’t be any more.  Sometimes though, when things get too painful, you’d be a masochist not to do it.