Rehab again

So I spent like 5 days inpatient. It was a mix of emotions. I tried to get discharged with the plan to do some stupid things. Then I panicked at the thought of being discharged. I agreed to go to rehab then backed out because I had no idea about insurance. Then the social worker randomly had a guy come from a rehab facility. I had to go by the end of the month to be sure insurance would pay. I expected to go tomorrow. Then today she said I was approved and would be transferred. Now I am in the car with my parents on my way. So don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for a while. I am terrified.

Thank you

I don't have the energy or motivation to write much right now. I wanted to say thank you for the kind comments on the last post. I also wanted to update that I am going back IP because I just can't do this. My thoughts are so horrible and I don't have vodka left to drown them out. Yesterday I slept all day because I was avoiding my parents. I only left my room when they were out of the house. I basically watched Grey's Anatomy and thought about death. It took half the day to find the courage to ask my parents to take me to the hospital because that is just not an easy conversation to start. I am honestly more worried about the depression than the detox. I just know that eventually I might do something stupid if I can't get this under control.

On the verge of giving up

Every time I think that things can't get worse, I prove myself wrong. This week has been.. a mess. I really can only be vague because the truth is I don't remember a lot of it. I feel like I've killed enough brain cells that I have trouble piecing together the sober times, and then there are some blackouts that I cannot for the life of me remember.

Like Wednesday... I was supposed to have a job interview and therapy. I can remember waking up barely in time for therapy. I was not sober. I went and was basically told they can't help me and think I need rehab. I tried again to explain that I can't do that and they're basically sending me home to die. I mean I am pretty sure I said I was suicidal and she let me leave. I didn't even stay the whole time.. I wandered around until it was time to go home and that's about all I remember. Hell if I know what happened that evening. I know my mom mentioned yesterday going out to eat with my dad, but I don't think I went with them.. I don't know what I said to them. The next thing I remember is waking up yesterday still pretty drunk. Nobody said anything about it.. I made candied pecans for my dad's birthday. I eventually got dressed and i went to dinner with my family. Then I got home and watched some TV with them and went to bed sober.

Today I got up exhausted. I sat at my computer and cried about how worthless I am. I had to tell my mom that I didn't have therapy today. She asked if it was because I showed up drunk wednesday, so they obviously know. Then she left to go to lunch. I went to the liquor store. Now I am home wondering how my life got to this point. I spent a lot of the night trying to figure out how to kill myself. I can't decide if it would be better to do it before Christmas because frankly nobody probably wants me there. Or do I just attempt it and get put in the hospital? I think I need to be in the hospital, but I don't know how to ask. Plus, I am supposed to have a job interview tomorrow, and since I am so close to being kicked out.. I probably should go. I haven't figure out insurance for January.. but then it doesn't really matter if I don't have therapy.

What the fuck have I done to my life? I feel like a public service announcement about alcoholism at this point. But I also feel like I wouldn't be alive without it. I kind of want to get kicked out and the plan for if that happens isn't pretty. I am just hoping that I am still alive for some reason. Maybe there is some worth for this pathetic life after all? God I hope so.

My side of the street

I don't know where to start. Things are complicated right now. Let me explain a series of events. 

Last week I had several arguments with my parents about my drinking. No arguments Thursday-Now. Except, Sunday I went shopping with my parents.. there was some discussion about having mason jars at the house.. and they were in my room because that had previously basically been storage. Well, in the evening I go to a meeting and my dad drives me. I get home and my mom comments that there are jars in my room and what size they are. I go to change later and check to see if the empty bottle is there that I had filled with vodka Saturday night.. Sunday I finished the rest off, so it would have been empty. It was gone. So obviously my mom found it in my room and threw it away. I wait and wait and she doesn't say anything. Monday morning I hear her and my dad leave in the morning. I wake up and look at the calendar and see an appointment with a name and time.. I google it and see that it's a therapist. So I live in fear that it had to do with me and that I would be confronted and kicked out later, but nobody said anything to me. 

So I don't know if this is counselling because they have been fighting more.. or this has to do with me.. or what? But I honestly at this point am open to whatever happens. I mean I have accepted that I will likely kill myself if they kick me out.. but I am not going to involve myself in the decision. I know that I have done a lot of shit to this family. I know I am worthless and a waste of money. I am only doing what I can. I am applying for jobs. I have an interview tomorrow and one saturday for retail jobs. I applied for the healthcare.gov insurance, but it was nearly as expensive as COBRA.. so I have to appeal that or apply for medicaid. I haven't asked if my parents will pay for COBRA again. I know I can't do DBT if they don't, but I am still not convinced that I want to do that after the last couple appointments with my therapist. I am hoping to get a job and be able to at least pay for insurance. 

I am not doing well with drinking. I today finished and threw away the bottle for the cooking wine. I walked to the liquor store in the fucking rain. My dad recently fixed the security cameras on the front and back door.. I briefly debated climbing out my bedroom window to avoid the cameras, but I decided to just say fuck it and hope he doesn't really have time to watch the footage of every time the back door is opened. I honestly wonder if I am the reason he fixed them.. but it's probably more about the packages he gets for Christmas. I finally said fuck it and just went and bought 2 bottles of vodka. I hid them under my soaked sweatshirt walking back in. Honestly.. if they say anything, I am tempted to ask if this is pathetic enough to make them realize that I do NOT enjoy my drinking. I walked in the fucking rain until my shoes and the bottom of my pants and my hoodie were drenched to buy the vodka.. I came home and did a phone interview for a job. I am not enjoying this. I am miserable. I have debated for days if a week of pills is enough to kill me. I am living for them, and i am miserable. Friday I didn't drink and at some point at night I started basically sobbing.. sobbing because I am unhappy, I am worthless.. I am supposed to be making Christmas presents but I know that no one will actually want them.. so why bother? I just don't want to sit there with nothing to give. I want someone to understand that if I were a sensible person I would look at all these consequences and stop drinking, but I am not. I am an alcoholic and nothing is enough to stop this. I welcome death. 

I explained to another therapist Friday about why I don't want to go back to rehab. I stop drinking and am confronted with all the feelings that alcohol numbs, and those places can't handle the results. Usually, I become suicidal and they threaten to send me somewhere else.. which would be a mental health facility that medicates me but doesn't deal with the behaviors so I go home and drink. I tried to get him to see that the depression and anxiety are the root of everything. I cannot tolerate emotion. I need to learn that before I can feel capable of not drinking. I HATE everything involved in drinking. I just like to be numb. I realize that this isn't normal.. and I want help. I want to be different. I just feel like DBT and therapy are more important than sending me somewhere that will get me sober and expect me to go home and handle life. 

I doubt my parents will confront me based on the cameras. I saw on the calendar another appointment with the mystery name. I am not going to ask unless someone volunteers the information. I am just going to keep trying to clear my side of the street. I am probably going to lie about my drinking tomorrow because I know that I need therapy to deal with problems that have nothing to do with alcohol. I may try to get her to understand that because I don't think she understands me. I might print some entries from this blog because I do better in writing than in person. I honestly don't even mind being put in the hospital. I just want to either die or be someone else. 

Bad days and good people

I have not had a good week. Two days of being confronted by my parents about the drinking and being threatened with being kicked out didn't stop me drinking a bottle of vodka yesterday. Today I saw my new therapist and it was pointless. I basically listened to her go on about how I need to stop drinking. She also told me she thinks I can't. She asked if I was ready to go to treatment. I had to explain that I can't. I have no money, and I don't know how long I will have insurance. I am kinda hoping to lose it so I don't have to see her anymore. She also asked what feelings I have when I said I drink not to feel. She asked how the depression feels. I tried to explain my anxiety and she didn't seem to get it. I tried to explain that I have repeatedly tried rehab. So did the other people at this place who I have talked to not write anything down or did she not read my chart yet? She asked if I tried journaling and recommended I try it after I had just fucking said I already do. Like the woman has pretty much already given up on me. I mean I already know that I am alcoholic. Telling me that if I have access to alcohol that I will drink is not helpful when I live within walking distance of a liquor store. I have been to rehab. Once I got kicked out for trying out ways to kill myself. Once I attempted to kill myself within a week or so of getting home. I have attempted to find ways to kill myself in other hospitals. I don't want to go back to treatment. I wanted to tell her that I am mostly alive because my parents have my meds locked up and it's almost Christmas. But I am pretty sure that honesty would lead to being back in the hospital. So I mostly stared at the floor.

So I was in a bad mood. I left there and pretended to be normal. I had dinner with my parents. Then I went to AA. I don't think I have ever shared in this group. I have finally stopped leaving early to avoid having to hold hands and pray at the end. I have finally spoken to a couple people. I am making progress. Anyway, I sat down and a man came up to me and gave me a gift because he brought them for people he knows at the group and had an extra. It was a Christmas ornament. And somehow that made me feel better than all of the appointments at the DBT place. I thanked him and shook his hand. I thanked him again after the meeting.

The meeting was about powerlessness. Honestly, people mostly told stories of the crazy things they did while drinking. It was honestly just what I needed because my parents act like I am a pathetic, awful person. My therapist acts like I am hopeless. These people have who have done the same or worse are sober now. They don't judge each other. I am honestly not scared of being judged by them. I am scared because I don't want to hurt them, and my ex sponsor basically told me I am toxic and she doesn't want to talk to me anymore. But I can listen and at least feel like a less worthless excuse for a human being. That's something.

And I don't think I have replied to some comments recently, but I read them and appreciate them. I am just struggling to find words lately. I am struggling not to fall apart. I don't really see any hope or reason to keep going. I am just struggling.

High school and my strange history with religion

So this comes up because I was packing my apartment recently and found an old journal with an old poem. I forget that I was really into writing poetry in high school and college. I was also into drawing, and I save a bunch of old sketchbooks. I was inspired anyway to revisit my old website and my old poetry and read what I wrote back then. I am reminded that the depression goes back many years.. and I always had strange ways of trying to cope.

So I have a weird history with religion because basically I am the only one in my family who really tried to find religion. I was baptized Episcopal.. and until I was 8 and we moved to Texas we generally went to church. My mom worked at a preschool associated with an Episcopal church. We moved and basically didn't find a church here.. we went to one that ended up advertising in its news letter classes to cure  homosexuals, and while none of us are homosexual.. this offended my brother and I enough we couldn't go back. I went through phases though of trying to read the bible and pray

Well then when I was in middle school, my mom worked at a library and started bringing me home books on Wicca.. and I decided to become Wiccan. I did it kinda half heartedly until my junior year when a bunch of stuff was going on. I was seriously depressed. Then I had a good friend who was in a car accident and spent a while in a coma.. then she was basically brain dead.. like she woke up, but she wasn't her. I decided to devote myself to the goddess Morrigan.. and to start doing blood sacrifices in the hope I could fix things. I was convinced I could fix my life.. I was convinced I could bring myself back. So I would self harm and burn tissues I used to collect the blood. I fully acknowledge this is not an accurate representation of the religion. This was my desperate attempt to fix things.

I eventually gave up on this. I got rid of my altar. I went back to Christianity and felt terribly guilty for my history with pagan beliefs. I didn't really find religion again until 2010 when I went to Remuda Ranch and devoted myself to Christ again. Then I eventually started going to church with a friend and joined a Byzantine Catholic church. Then alcoholism made getting up that early impossible... and now I believe but just don't do anything about it.

But anyway.. a poem

My Sacrifice

   

What more can you want from me?

Everyday part of me dies for you.

The blades dig into my skin

For your blood offering .

The incense burns my flesh

Smoke for consecration, for power .

All the pain your heart desires

Leaving my body tired and scarred

What more can you want from me?

It's never been enough

So the blade goes deeper .

New cuts, new burns

Cover my body with scars .

Patterns of destruction ,

Signs of my devotion .

I lay my blood on your altar

Sacrificed to earn your favor.

What more can you want from me?

Nothing will ever be enough

Except that final sacrifice

When I lay my life out on the altar

And let the blades take it all away

And the blood snuffs out the candles

The final sign of my devotion

I live for you, I die for you

What more could you ask of me?

And if anyone cares enough to look.. this is my old website with the poetry and some old artwork. This is mostly from when I was a teenager https://www.smellydog.net/beth/main.htm

One more

Carry me away

These tired fingers

Not as quick as they used to be

This old mind

Too slow to react

This weary soul

Falling to pieces

This ruined body

That can't fight back

These steadfast opinions

Resisting the tide of change

This burning hatred

Waging this war

The falling darkness

Carrying me away

A mile in my shoes...

Do you ever think of a title before you think of what you want to write? I thought of one walking to the liquor store this morning. It is a mile walking to and from the closest liquor store. I have been obsessing over this trip to the store for several days. I didn't drink this weekend, but I knew my mom and dad had to go this morning because he had a colonoscopy scheduled and she was driving him. I debated if I had time to go to the liquor store and back since they were supposed to be done around 10 but probably would be going to breakfast after. My dad is a huge baby about not being able to eat the day prior.. I have to fight the urge to say that I have gone 5 days without eating, so one day is nothing. But whatever.. liquor stores open at 10, so I would have to count on them not coming straight home if the place is close. 

My thought walking home is that I wish they could spend a few days inside my head. My parents are very much the type to believe alcoholism as a choice. I think they fall into the fallacy that drinking is fun. It honestly was never fun. My dad said at some point I should stop justifying my behavior by saying I need alcohol to handle my depression. I should just use other coping skills. I wish he realized that coping skills don't come naturally. I mean my parents never taught them. My mom vented to me about my brother and dad. My dad was silent and handled things by picking at his skin and occasional outburts of anger. I was not raised to handle feelings. I am ill equipped to handle the depression I feel. I will not say my family has less problems, but I do know I am the only one to repeatedly attempt suicide. I am the only one to go inpatient multiple times, so if they have the same level of feelings.. I am the one too weak to handle them. 

I wish they could see inside my head. I wish they could see the amount of time I spend obsessing over getting to the liquor store. I wish they could see the amount of time I spend trying to figure out how I could even plan suicide. They could see the existential crisis that suicide plans create.. will I go to heaven? hell? Not exist at all? Those questions haunt me. Liquor takes this away. But then they don't know the obsession that comes with drinking.. when? where? how much? I think about why i should quit and why I should continue. Nobody would choose this way of thinking. Nobody would choose this if they knew another way to handle it. 

I don't know.. I just wish they could see the lack of logic in my thoughts. I would say I want to quit but can't.. except I don't want to quit? I cannot imagine life without these intrusive, obsessive thoughts. I cannot imagine handling these thoughts without some self destructive behavior. I cannot imagine LIFE. This isn't life. It is existence. I cannot imagine a fulfilling life. I feel like time is too slow, and I cannot kill enough time to make it ok. Bur none of this is easy to explain to anyone. It is a feeling and not a logical thought. I wish they could spend time in my head and understand that I don't just choose this for fun. Nothing is fun. A happy life is something I cannot even imagine. I am trying so hard to believe it is possible. 

Highs and lows

I cannot remember exactly when I wrote last, so I might repeat myself. This has been one of those weeks where it feels like God is taunting me. I suppose a better person might view it as Him opening doors to keep me hopeful, but it feels like getting my hopes up and then kicking me down again.

So I had the interview with one bank, and it had sounded in advance like a sure thing. It wasn't. The interview didn't go that well.. it was that sort where they ask formulaic questions and I am not good at that. So Monday I found out they had decided not to hire me. But then I had gotten an email Friday about a phone interview with another bank. So I did that Monday morning. Well.. I had agreed to a call at 10:30 and I did not receive or see an email saying they rescheduled it for 9:30. The interviewer called right after I had woken up, so I was not at my best. It was going ok until she started asking about why I lost my last job. I said I was laid off, but she kept asking questions. Even when I said I took medical leave and had not performed as well after.. she asked if it was normal for someone to be put on probation after medical leave. Like I would know? Nobody else I knew took a month off.. and she asked why, and I was not comfortable explaining about the ECT. Frankly, it was not any of her business. Like she should have just dropped it. So I didn't get that job.

I was starting to feel totally hopeless again.. Like my checking account is overdrawn by like $600. I have $2 in my savings and one maxed out credit card and one not maxed out. I owe money to a million places, and I am not even trying to pay any of it because I have nothing. I had honestly become pretty hopeless and suicidal. Then yesterday I got a call asking if I could interview the next day (today) for yet another bank. I agreed to come in the afternoon since I had a psychiatrist appointment in the morning and my mom was going to lunch with my brother.

My psychiatrist appointment was awkward. I didn't want to explain about the car accidents.. I admitted to drinking. I tried to explain vaguely what was going on, and she used her "talking to a child" voice asking me about some of it. I am NOT a child. I just don't want to go into every detail of why I feel hopeless. She asked about getting a sponsor.. and I did not want to go into that mess. The last conversation I had with my ex-sponsor left me with the impression that I am hopeless and toxic, so yes I am hesitant to involve new people in that. I have spoken to a couple people (!!!) and at least done a reading in a meeting and asked for someone's phone number, so I am making progress.. but I am not just going to ask anyone (because she claims having anyone is better than nothing) when I was hurt badly in the past. She talked about how working on myself is important for me to be able to get a job, but there is a serious risk of me not being able to afford insurance and copays in the near future.. so getting a job is required for me to continue therapy. I don't think she understands how broke I am.

But I survived and basically had her keep my medication the same. Prior to my interview, I did something really pathetic.. my mom went to lunch with my brother. I walked to the liquor store. It's about .5 miles each way. I bought a bottle of vodka and walked home. I drank some before my interview. The interview went.. well? It was strange. They didn't ask that many questions. I talked about the last bank I worked at.. customers, sales, what I liked, what I did. I really am good at customer service and I enjoy it. It doesn't seem like it.. I somehow can detach from the depression and everything and put on my customer service mask, and people love me. Customers loved me. So I mostly just talked about what I know. They seemed happy. It was more of a conversation than an interview. Then the service manager showed me all around the bank while the manager called to find out about benefits for part time employees. That was it.. they said they'd call about the benefits question and the position. So I took that as a positive, but i am not getting my hopes up at this point.

Oh and I have been basically eating everything in sight and gaining a ton.. so that's lovely. I am going to start working on it soon. I mean I spend at least a couple hours a day on a pro-ana website, so you wouldn't expect me to be such a fatass. I just find stress eating so natural when I am not drinking, so I almost feel like drinking is better.

In the midst of all this, our dog was sick. I think it was Monday or Tuesday we took her to the vet because she was stumbling around and struggling to walk. We got her in 2004 when I was still in high school, so we feared the worse. My dad assumed it was a stroke. I had no idea. The doctor diagnosed it as vestibular disease which manifests a bit like vertigo. They gave her a shot of medicine. I didn't make it to AA that night because of timing and because I wanted to be home to help because basically someone had to walk with her to help with balance or she would fall.. and then she'd be terribly anxious about falling and go back to sleeping under the bed. By the next day, she was actually able to go for a walk. She fell once trying to walk across the linoleum in the house, but she was fine outside. We still haven't gotten her to eat... except she ate something off the ground outside today that I seriously hope was a treat that was left there. I have been trying to be helpful by taking her out since I live here without paying rent.. at least I can help? Plus, we've had our dog Katy since I was in high school. I didn't live here for much of that, but she's still my dog. It's funny because my cat Odd has also been involved in all this. He sleeps by the dog. When Katy falls and retreats to the bedroom, Odd goes running after her. It reminds me of how Odd was when Mudge was old.. only Katy is even less interested in his help than Mudge was (and Mudge didn't much like him).

I have been thinking through all of this of what I will do if I survive this. I don't plan to stay in banking forever. I also don't really want to go back to biology research. I have thought about becoming a nurse.. or a vet tech.. or something. I feel like I need to be directly serving someone, but I don't know. I don't really see into the distant future. I am more just surviving. The farthest I am planning is how I will deal with money if I get a job. What will I pay first? Then maybe I am thinking of getting out of my parents house.. but honestly at times this includes the thoughts of running away and killing myself, so I avoid focusing on that. It is about now. It is currently about staying alive through christmas.

*edit* Not that anyone else cares but Katy ate! I got her to eat 2 treats after we got home from dinner. We sometimes throw treats for her to find in the yard, so I threw 2 (to her because she doesn't really need to be running) and she ate them. Then my mom mixed some rice and turkey for her later. She hadn't eaten for a couple days, so we were thrilled that she ate it all. She's 14.. I know she is not immortal, but I am not ready to lose her. She took a lot of work. She was so shy we could barely touch her at first. Now she basically insists on being petted. She is amazing.

The wreckage of our present

I started to write the other day, but then my parents were around and I don't like blogging around them. I particularly didn't want to do it at that time because well.. it will make sense once I write about the past week.

Let me preface this with a request. I am well aware of how much I have fucked up. Please keep in mind that I am an alcoholic. I have a mental illness. Also please keep in mind that pretty much all of us have fucked up pretty badly at some point in our lives. So basically.. no hate.

Last week I moved my stuff out of my apartment.. sort of. It was a lot for one person to do, but I couldn't bring myself to pay anyone to pack or ask my parents to pay rather because I'm broke. Because it is really difficult to go back there given I spent the majority of my 6 years in that apartment either drunk or depressed and self destructive. I trashed that apartment, and it reached a point where I basically lived in my bed. I ate in my bed, slept in my bed, drank in my bed, and otherwise just watched Netflix. So my solution to the difficult emotions of moving was to drink before/during packing.. I generally didn't drink until I got to the apartment. I also was drinking at home before bed at night. Well, my dad scheduled the movers to come at 7am last Wednesday, and the day before I kind of said fuck it and that I would finish cleaning after they came. But I am never up that early.. so I was exhausted and still a bit drunk when I drove to the apartment to meet them. I then drank more at the apartment because I was upset by how the movers treated me. I managed to get in not 1 but 2 accidents that day. One of which I rear ended someone and freaked out (this was on the way there). I didn't see damage, so being an idiot I just drove off. The 2nd a truck stopped suddenly in front of me, and I slammed on the brakes but still hit them. I did give them my insurance.. and a cop stopped and gave me a ticket for following too closely and called the tow truck because my car was totaled. I amazingly didn't get a DUI but he did ask about if I was on medication because I know I was having trouble answering questions because of the combination of being exhausted, at least slightly drunk, and just really upset. I really don't remember all the details.. like I remember the truck I hit but not exactly where I was. No one was hurt, and I have insurance that will pay for the damage.

My parents were fucking pissed. I guess from the comments they made, they knew I was drunk.. and I think the movers had said something about that too. Also.. as if they weren't pissed enough, 2 state troopers later showed up at the house about the 1st accident to give me a ticket for leaving the scene. There were some arguments. I otherwise didn't speak to them that day. Since then.. there have been more arguments. I have no car to drive, so my mom had to take me to drop off my keys at my apartment complex the next day. I didn't bother finishing cleaning because I knew I was in no shape to do it since I didn't sleep or have any alcohol that night. I just gave up. They are now driving me to meetings and waiting in the car to make sure I don't leave and go drink. I otherwise am sitting around the house. But they are speaking to me now? It's still awkward as fuck. I am ashamed of everything.

I am now without a car and so basically only going out if my parents are. I don't have a job still. I had one interview last week, and they turned me down. I had a phone interview today and have put in a few more applications. My thought is I can get a bus pass to get to any job I get. I don't know.

Mentally I have been unwell.. I have not been able to buy vodka so the withdrawal was bad at first. I resorted to drinking a bit of cooking wine. I have since looked at about everything in the house in search of alcohol. I have gone to meetings and sat there trying to think of how to get a drink. I have also contemplated how to get enough of my pills to attempt suicide, but then I would hate to do that before Christmas. The first 2 days after the accidents, I didn't sleep at all. I have since slept some but not full nights. I am still exhausted but trying to act as normal as possible because I am paranoid they will think I am drinking when I'm not. I am generally just anxious all the time, depressed, ashamed, and overall clueless about where to go from here. I don't really want to stop drinking. I am just sort of forced to. If I could, I would.. so I don't know what the future holds because sooner or later I will have the opportunity to buy liquor. They can't watch me forever. I just don't know how to get to where I want something in life more than I want to be drunk and not think or feel. I am not hopeful. I just am. I am just existing.

So that's my update. I will try to update again when there is something worth mentioning.