I’ve decided to no longer prescribe myself alcohol to pass out at night.
I don’t know if I will fill the prescription I got for a sleep aid. I don’t know if I will have the discipline or desire to just get up at the same time every morning to regulate my sleeping pattern, because that would require missing a lot of time with A. I guess I just don’t know what I am going to do, but I know the drinking cure winds up turning into a beast too often for me to let it continue.
It’s a bittersweet moment when you realize something has gone too far, because you simultaneously wish that you could take back all the times when you drank while knowing you shouldn’t, and also wish that you could just go home after work and have a beer.
Well, you can’t. You can’t do either.
This will be an identity struggle in many ways, but I am trying to see it as struggling back to an identity, not away from the one I’ve assumed. I have always had a hard time falling asleep, for as long as I can remember. I can go back to that. I used to hang out late at night without needing to drink. I can go back to that. I used to wake up and know exactly what I had said or done. I can go back to that. I used to love myself enough to enjoy the little things in life.
I can go back to that.
