Today has been an overall good day. Mood swings. Crying spells here and there but productive. My dad and I bought new toiletries, coloring books, books, lounge wear (my favorite type of clothing). Then, I packed for inpatient. That was really overwhelming. I got my stuff ready for my big NYC day tomorrow, including which subways to take, at what time, to get where I need to be on time. I’m going to go downtown to the Whitney, if you haven’t been, the top floor balcony is complete bliss for me. I’m a member and I will literally go just to stare out for 15 minutes.
And then I need to go uptown to go a different museum and then head to a hotel to meet with my new BeautyCounter mentor, I guess we can call her a family friend. I’m basically a New Yorker, I know the city extremely well, my parents are from the city, but my episode is making me paranoid and micromanaging. So I mapped everything out, timed everything out, got my train ticket ahead of time. I probably need to reload my metro card. But I’m freaking set, as long as I wake up on time.
But, the real truth is, I cracked. I opened a bottle of Chardonnay. I’m alone. My dad’s not home. I finally have all of his Christmas presents delivered so I nicely wrapped them up and I’m so excited for him to open them. I got him funny gifts and an old map of downtown Manhattan and Brooklyn from the 19th century from Etsy. I put so much thought into them, things that he will actually use. My dad has everything, he never needs anything so it’s hard to shop for him. But I know he’ll really love and appreciate each one. I really put my heart into each gift. But he’s not here. I’m back to orphan status and it makes me sad.
I recently became a consultant for BeautyCounter. It’s an all natural beauty line that specializes in completely healthy and actually, to be honest, I have no idea yet because I just joined. But instead of going crazy and doing other dangerous things, I’m walking to CVS so I can buy more printer paper and print out every single piece of learning material there is before I meet with my mentor in the city tomorrow. I doubt I’ll read any of it. But I’ll bring it all and have it organized in folders and sorted by category. She’ll be impressed with how put together I am, as every single person always is. And this is my life. Faking it til I make it. But I’m having an episode and no one believes I’m sick.
I’m lucky I live in town so I can walk to CVS as I’ve had some wine. And I’m also lucky New Jersey doesn’t sell alcohol at CVS’. Because, I’m stocked with wine, hidden in my closet, but I’m sure at this mental state, I’d buy more. More to forget the sadness I feel. See, my dad is the closest person I have, but he’s not always physically there. He’ll call, he’ll text, but sometimes I need him in person.
Ugh. I can’t wait to feel safe again. I can’t wait to be stable. I can do it. I can make it through tomorrow until I get real help. One day of fun in New York City and then I will get the help and attention I need to be healthy and well again. I must remain positive.
We have good moments and we have bad. I can’t discount my moment of going to sleep sober last night and I can’t shame myself for drinking now. It’s part of the process. I’m going through an episode. Going through anything alone is even tougher. I’m used to picking myself back up, I’ve done it all my life. But right now, I wish I had someone to help me because I know if I wasn’t alone right now I wouldn’t not be resorting to the bottle. I would be talking this out. But, I can’t play victim, I made the choice. I fought my head really hard. I took more klonopin but it didn’t help. I had to get the corkscrew. But I know help is near. Goodnight and rest in peace, Carrie Fisher.