Old Realities By the Minute

A normie blogger friend wrote to me in an email recently about how she liked the tone of gratefulness in my blog posts. I responded with a simple "thank you" but later decided that more should be said on the matter.

I am grateful today. And all days, in fact. For all things big and small in my life. From my family to the laundry I fold. For my health and the food in the fridge. My education. My job. Even the bills that I have to pay with the money that I earn at my job. It is all connected and I am grateful for all of it. Because not all that long ago my reality was vastly different.

Kristin circa 1999:

Passed out at some point between midnight and 2:00 AM.

4:00 AM: Come to on the couch. TV still on. Lights are still on. Oven is still on. WTF?

4:02 AM: Stumble into bathroom to pee. Make it to bedroom and crawl into bed.

7:30 AM: Lawnmower from down the street can no longer be ignored. Pounding headache is not so much "pounding" as it is an "ice pick" drilling a hole in my brain. Get up to find aspirin, realize it's in purse, can't remember what happened to purse after passing out that night (morning?) Go to bathroom to look for more aspirin. No luck.

7:45 AM: The queasiness is starting to kick in. Can't get back to sleep because the cocktail of drill bit headache and nausea-on-a-rampage. Crackers. Must find crackers.

7:46 AM: Vomit.

7:47 AM: Vomit again.

8:00 AM: Call in sick to work. Read boss a pathetic tale of food poisoning at the hands of bad Chinese takeout. Boss is sympathetic. I'm now guilt ridden and remorseful for being such a liar.

8:05 AM: Go back to bed with shades drawn.

10:21 AM: I don't know if I awaken to the feeling of hunger or hangover. It can only be described as the hangover trifecta: tremors, nausea, and a mind numbing headache. Nice. Should make for a GREAT day. Not. My stomach feels like I swallowed battery acid. My mouth tastes like hot dog water.

10:25 AM: Go pee. It burns to pee. Oh f**k.

10:35 AM: Eat piece of leftover pizza from the night before. Can't remember ordering it.

10:45 AM: Drink a quart of orange juice.

11:00 AM: Starting to feel somewhat better. Not 100%. More like 35%. Try to pull off a shower.

11:35 AM: Shower gets me up to 45%. Things are starting to look up. Can't look in the mirror, however, because my face looks like ten miles of bad road.

12:00 AM: The shakes are starting to subside, the headache is still there, the body aches, still nauseous. Try going to porch to sit outside. See the leftover wine bottles, beer bottles, and overflowing ashtrays sitting out on the patio from the night before. Try to remember what had happened. Vaguely remember talking to someone on the phone. Can't remember who. Can't remember what was said. Hope to God I didn't offend anyone. Can't believe I went through 2 packs of cigarettes all by myself.

12:10 PM: Start to clean up patio.

12:35 PM: Still trying to figure out who I had called the night before. Enemy? Friend? I have more enemies than friends so the odds aren't in my favor.

1:07 PM: I have GOT to get some aspirin or Tylenol. And cigarettes. Try to find car keys. And purse. Great. Can't find either.

1:20 PM: Find both in the front seat of my car which is unlocked. Oh f**k. Did I drive somewhere last night? Check the grill and bumpers for dents and scratches.

1:33 PM: Head to store to buy cigarettes and painkillers. Can barely drive because the sun is so bright. Sunglasses don't help. Wonder how other people do it. This alcohol thing. How do other people function so well after a night of drinking and yet I can't?

1:48 PM: Get into store. Damn the lights are bright. And it's loud in here, too. And everyone is moving so fast. Why is everyone in such a hurry? Why is everyone so energized? Why do I always feel like shit?

1:50 PM: Spend 20 minutes on the analgesic aisle because my brain can't focus enough to decide between Advil and Extra Strength Tylenol. Hey! Is that a new hangover remedy on that shelf?

2:10 PM: Analgesic aisle is right next to the liquor aisle. Coincidence?

2:11 PM: I need a drink. But I must be out of my mind to think I'm going to buy more alcohol feeling the way I do.

2:12 PM: Stoli is on sale. So is Corona.

2:15 PM: Decide to purchase both. But I won't drink them until the weekend. I am going to go home, take a hot bath, fix a hot meal, get to bed early, get up early, go to work early, work late to make up for being such a loser of an employee, go to the gym, won't drink until weekend...

2:25 PM: Stand in aisle at checkout counter. Try not to make eye contact with cashier. Assume that she is judging me for my bloodshot eyes, stringy hair, and stench of stale booze seeping from my pores. Hope that she doesn't comment on the Stoli and Corona. Wish to God that she would hurry up.

3:17 PM: Arrive home after checking out of store and running through a Taco Bell. Too hungry to wait to fix a homemade meal.

4:00 PM: Vegetate on couch while watching Oprah. Plan on traveling to Chicago someday to see the Oprah show. Wonder how the women in her audience always look so polished.

5:01 PM: Begin to hear the hum of rush hour traffic out my window. Look at clock. Where did the day go?

5:08 PM: I need a drink.

5:11 PM: I'm only going to have one.

5:17 PM: My mind races as I reach for the bottle on the counter. You're such a loser Kristin. You can't even go one day without a drink. But it's only one. Just to take the edge off. Every bar downtown is going to be packed with happy hour participants. Why should I be any different? Everybody does it. It's only one.

5:45 PM: Sit at computer with drink in hand. Look at clock. Nearly 12 hours since I came to. I have accomplished nothing of value.

5:57 PM: The alcohol is starting to kick in. My body no longer aches. The headache is starting to go away. My mood elevates. Ease and comfort.

6:12 PM: Just one more...