Saturday Night Fever (on the brain)

Snow. Falling silently, softly, the neighbor's Christmas twinkle lights turning it all shades of blue, green, red, yellow. I lie in my bed, warm under five blankets, and the cat is near me. I have fresh washed flannel sheets on the bed, and to enjoy them even more, stripped down to my birthday suit, so I can feel flannel on my skin. It's a wonderful feeling. Window shade up, snow falling, I am lying in bed, propped up by two fluffy pillows, and one fluffy cat on my side, occasionally swiping a paw at an imaginary mousie she is chasing in her dreams. All I am missing is a cup of hot chocolate, on my night table.

Sounds nice, doesn't it? No. Not. My brain is going a million miles an hour. Since 2 pm the only thought in my head has been to change the lyrics on a popular song and sing it' - "Susan's got a gun".....but I don't have any. I do have a water pistol some where, but no... no gun. And again and again the thought goes through my brain- I wish I had one. But if I did, right at this moment, I would be too terrified these would be the last things I would be doing until I pointed it at my heart and pulled the trigger.

I am holding my AA coin in my right hand. Holding on to it for dear life. My 13 year coin. I have two- one for me and one I mailed to my blogging friend Mary. The last couple of days, I have been having drinking dreams, I dream of cool Long Island Ice Teas, White Russians, wine in slender glasses. I dream of getting high, feeling I can do no wrong, that I am indeed pretty, smart and a good person to be around. I have a trick up my sleeve- the same trick I used when I was first getting sober. Go to a 24 hour club, stay there all day if need be, and drink Diet Peach Snapple every time you want to drink.

So I am safe. Safe right now.... and trying to do every trick in the book to quiet my brain, hence, looking at snow and meditating. Giving into the purely hedonistic feel of flannel on an icy cold night against my warm skin. I'm staying alive.


In the morning, hopefully the thoughts will be quieter, and the loneliness I feel won't be so acute. Who knows? Maybe in the morning I will have something to look forward to, something to do that will take me away from my own existential angst. My own hell in my brain. Hopefully I will be able to eat something... and it will stay down. Hopefully I will be able to go to Sunday Dinner at my parents house. Hopefully, hopefully... it will be a good day.