My mom is confused as to why I drink so much. She’s like you can control it blah so just stop. But I can’t. Alcohol makes me feel happy and productive. It’s like the crutch I used to use adderall for and what I still use Klonopin for.
And I’m in Puerto Rico, a place where it rains every other hour so I have to leave my spot on the beach #firstworldproblems. But I’m at the bar. Having a Chardonnay and reading Electroboy by Andy Behrman and 96 pages in, I strongly recommend. He’s insanely interesting. I’m only on my first chard but it won’t be my last. Maybe I’ll stay at the bar and drink until I finish his book, it’s an easy read and very relatable.
Staying far from my mom at this resort is key to my sanity. I keep going back and forth in my head about the treatment I need. Do I go inpatient do I go outpatient do I stay in Princeton do I go to Boston. I’ve always wanted to go to Columbia pres cornells campus in West Chester. Maybe I’ll save that for my housewife days, if I get to that point in my life.
I miss my dad. I feel so isolated and sad. There’s love and families all around at a vacation tropical resort and I’m drinking at a bar alone reading a memoir about bipolar. I haven’t slept since my flight was a 12-5am flight.
But second by second. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. Day by day. I know I will make it through. Only a few more days, a few more scheduled fun meetings in NYC and I will go to my appointment and the experts will evaluate me and tell me which level of care and where is best. Must. Stop. Worrying.
Merrry Christmas Eve. It doesn’t feel like Christmas. But merry merry Christmas to all. Or happy Hanukkah!