So I drank. I drank every bit of alcohol I could get my hands on. I didn’t find the happiness or the love I was looking for within those shots or within those glasses, but I kept on looking. I ended up leaving without telling anyone – I staggered to the lake, and talked to these three creepy guys we had met earlier that evening. They gave me a hefty glass of scotch, and you can bet I was a good little Scot and I drank that – with gusto I might add.
What I remember is thinking that I was being a moron. At least I hadn’t drowned the rational side of myself completely. From what my foggy memory pieces together and what I’ve been told, a few of my friends came to find me, and the creepy guys got angry and ended up picking a fight with them. I’m sure we all made it home unscathed, but it’s still rather unsettling.
The rest of the night is kind of a blur. All I really remember is how I felt. It was a combination of feeling hurt, unwanted, angry, depressed, and ashamed. What a lovely cocktail of emotions eh? I remember being mad at my friend, the one who got the interest of Tom. Maybe she realized it, or maybe she didn’t, but for a bit there in my drunken state, I almost hated her. I hated how beautiful she was; I hated how she could make any man fall crazy in-love with her and yet she always complained about not having someone or not having a certain someone – she could literally have almost anyone she wanted.
And I hated myself for hating her for that instant. I hated that I wasn’t her, or that I wasn’t what someone wanted. I hated myself for being a mess that night, for making my friends worry, for acting like a complete doucebag because I was having a bad night. The loathing for myself trumped any petty jealousy I had and this loathing continued on until morning.
The loathing was mixed with shame when I woke up, as well as dehydration and a need to vomit.
As I said, I remember the exact moment I shut-down. We were all waking up, and I was clearly hung-over. I felt a pain all over my body, and I knew I had really done it this time. What hurt the most was this knot in my stomach, mixed with heaviness over my chest – I felt like I had opened up part of myself to show everyone, and I don’t think they like what they saw. Hell, I didn’t like what I saw. For one brief, drunken evening, I feel like I really opened up to everyone, that I was expressing a true form of myself. The thing that is so awful about this revelation is that I saw inside myself all the unattractiveness that made me undesirable; I saw a petty, jealous, empty person who could never be worthy of love. I had always felt like I was awful, but I tried to overcome my self-doubts, that I shouldn’t compare myself to my friends or people around me. What made me shut-down was the realization that I was awful all along. And it all became clear as to why I always felt so alone, even within the company of my friends. They saw this person hiding beneath my front, and though they accepted me as a whole, they never ventured further than the surface because they couldn’t stand the sight of me.
So I wept. I mourned my preconceptions of who I was, because I knew now I could never go back. Oh, I’d pretend things could be the same, and they all would too because they’re good people, why would they want to point out the obvious elephant in the room? But I cried, and let out all the shame and grief I felt. I pretended it was because I was hung over – that my head hurt from not wearing my night guard to bed…but really I wept because I saw how ugly I really was, and I couldn’t stand myself.
Ever since that weekend I have decided to keep that front up, because no one deserves to see that side of me. And with that I have completely shut down to the people I care about. Perhaps I think I’m protecting them, and maybe I am, but it doesn’t make it any easier for anyone. I rarely indulge in more than a few drinks, and when I do I seem to have a block up to not get drunk. I’m thankful for my cautiousness, because I don’t want to open up again – not for them, they’ve seen enough.
I suppose I’m sharing this today because I think it’s time to stop running from my fears, to stop hiding that ugly side of me. Truth be told, I’ve been very unhappy for a long time – the creative outlet of writing has done nothing for me, and I’ve frankly lost interest. I keep up with the necessities, like school and work, and seeing people when I can, but I’m interested in very little these days. When I feel anything, its sadness or frustration. And though I am seeing someone now, and I do love him, I don’t think I’ve opened up to him like he deserves, and I don’t think I’ve loved him like he deserves.
So with this exceptionally long, rambly, guest blog post, I was hoping to find meaning in myself again. I’m not sure if I’ve found it or not. Maybe there’s no quick fix for this emptiness.
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