Friday VS Saturday Night

Saturday night:

Wet toenails that I just painted with charmed, which is like my favorite pumpkin orange—rich, vibrant and yet wintery.

I have ponytail hair, which means I went to the gym came home didn't shower, didn't like my hair in a ponytail but it looks like shit down.

I'm considering falling asleep in my chair while Avicii is playing me Superlove.

The music is incredibly contradictory to my mood.

It's 8:59 PM and I could have fallen asleep an hour ago.

Friday night:

I had just worked a full day, leaving the house at 7 AM. Then rushing to treatment at 3 PM. Meeting my mom outside treatment for Family group at 4 PM. Be there for two hours until 6 PM, where we talk about things—the abuse came up again. Go to 6:05 PM and my mom is crying, in pain, asking me about the abuse. The images of those nights flash in my head, I hug myself as though trying to protect me from my thoughts, I don't want to talk about it.

So of course—I talk about it.

She says she's sorry. She says she never knew. She says a lot of things I've needed to hear—but not now. I just can't handle this now.

My nonstop day continues with dinner with her—on the outside you'd see a mother and a daughter having Subway together—you'd have no idea that she just asked me how many times, where, when, how…

Race off to my bus to make it home in time to meet my brother—he beats me.

My anxiety is through the roof. I need to drink. I can't eat in front of my brother so the other option of relief is the drink. I regrettably divulge a 13-year-secret to him.

We talk, drink two. Then I get my sexy on. I'm feeling good.

We taxi it to The Crocodile to see GRiZ with my friends and ChaCha.

I'm buzzed. I like it. I'm in control but my anxiety from earlier is gone.

I feel relief. I'm having fun. I’m surrounded by people and music I love.

I see friends from high school—I'm no longer that insecure girl. I no longer think they hate me. I'm just me. It's nice.

The music starts. I dance. I want more. So I have it. Still pacing myself. Still in control.

I see others who aren't. Others who are messes before 11 PM. Others who are getting kicked out. I thank God I'm not them.

We dance. We laugh. We live.

So cheesy but that's exactly what we did. I've been on a high from it ever since.

A high from the music, from the positive vibes—not from the disorder or from the drink, it's from something organic.

It's weird to contrast my two nights. I was up til 2:30 last night eating  normal portion of Pirates Booty and watching Wedding Crashers with my brother.

Tonight I went to an AA meeting and will be sound asleep at 2:30.

But I still have the same high. I feel like the world is much more simple. I feel hope. I feel like things are easy right now. I know what to do and I want to do it.

After last night realizing that I drank because of my anxiety scares me. Alcoholism is real thing. I can't take one disorder and trade it for another. So it's time to get sober, I know—it's just I'm not sure how.