Day Zero, or at least *a* day zero.

For whatever reason, I’ve decided today will be a drink-free day. Not sure that makes it day zero, but it at least makes it a day, and whilst it’s only 10:30 in the morning I am dreading it already!

I am already desperate to shut the thoughts out, the things undone, the general anxiety raising up. I am sat working at home being a great employee yet inside the wind whirs, stressing how I can spend an evening without that transitional lubricant poured down my throat, something to aid slipping into a relaxation that takes away the god damn anxiety.

I just want a god damn drink.

The Toddler is awake and shouting, screaming because it knows it will be denied later, that’s the madness of this situation, were it a normal day then they’d have slept in. Knowing they are to be denied though they awake in full voice, like a pressure in the back of your head that will only soothe with the application of juniper-infused spirits.

Fuck I hate this!.

The most vexing thing is how easy giving in is, the easiest thing in the world, and getting through this means doing battle tomorrow.

screams incoherently

I can be good, I can do today, I will try

I can always die instead. The benefit of being a survivor of several suicide attempts from the past and re4civered from the bleakest deepest depression is I tend toward the fatalistic when it comes to existence. I am sanguine about the value of life, at least my own, have decided in the past to spend it cheaply. That escape I craved, I found it t through therapy and SSRIs and ultimately the hardest work I’ve ever done.

And I’m a little pissed I’ve got to do that work again with this!

I wonder if I ever really finished that work or if I slipped booze into the mix to take the anxious edge off.

but still, here we are, a day zero