Freedom

If I hadn't left rehab early, today would've been my first day out. It's strange how much and how little has happened since I flew from Bacolod. I found out my life as I knew it has dissolved and run down the drain (so strange considering I'm not supposed to have any major life changes for the next year but then again is it really a change in your life to completely change your life?), I've found out that despite being with family I am homesick for my cats and boyfriend and that makes my skin crawl with loneliness even when I'm playing with my baby brother, I have started my slow descent back into infancy - I can't go out I don't trust myself to go out no one trusts me to go out I sleep on a couch I don't do anything I don't have any plans I just hang out with my dad I am an invalid in society a nothing a no one a non important exempt from statistics, I've discovered what it feels like to not have any place to go to that really feels like home where I can truly be myself (except when visiting said boyfriend, there his arms can be my four walls), I've done nothing and walked so much and lost no weight and cried a lot. I also found out today that within the first week of my being admitted my boyfriend went on a date with another girl because he thought we were over (perfectly logical though my heart screams in protest - I was wild and out of control and I technically broke up with him since he wouldn't let me buy more rum and I punched him and I was terrible) and he kissed her and careful where you step my guts are all over the floor. That's what it feels like - like someone carved me open with a butter knife and made abstract art with my large intestine. 

He kissed her he kissed her he kissed her while I was curling up in my hospital bed then my psych ward bed dreaming about him and thinking of his face her face was touching his face and I want to scream if screams could be pronounced with sadness. 

Sometimes I want to go back to rehab. There is no place for me in the lives of everyone who is now forced to take care of me. I am a burden and a nuisance and I am in the way. It was easier in rehab. All I had to do was feel and find out why I felt those things. Here I should be better and I can't mope around all day even when my arms and legs feel like lead I try to be productive and look for a job so my dad doesn't worry but sometimes all I want to do is sit and cry and I don't think that's such a bad thing - being alive means feeling feelings right?

I'm confused and sad and so so very homesick all the time and I haven't lost any weight so why even bother?

Removed

While my friends are busy graduating and doing thesis work and living life I find myself receding back to infancy. I did not have a particularly pleasant childhood and despite my best efforts the old demons and scars are resurfacing and driving me insane. Maybe nothing is driving me insane. Maybe I'm inherently insane, a product that left the factory with defects. Maybe I somehow made it this far simply because the line workers were just careless in their inspections.

But here I am. Despite my best efforts I am proving invincible and I am tired of it. This suicide attempt, I went to treatment, I had a consequence, my life has actually changed. My home is gone. I was so damn homesick in rehab (to the point where I couldn't move anymore without force, I couldn't think, I wasn't really breathing just being I don't know how to explain it. I was depressed. I was pushed down. I was under heavy water.) but now I'm out of rehab and family and find myself still homesick. I am displaced. 

Home is my bed and my cats and my boyfriend and having a kitchen and a choice in what to do with my hours. Home is school and naps and the smell of my laundry. Home is cleaning the little box and filling the food bowl and the weak water pressure of the shower. Home is refilling the ice trays. Home is sharing pillows with Johnny. Home is having lunch with Johnny between classes. I ruined home. I set fire to home. I tore my own home apart with my stupid ten fingers. Now we're moving out and I can't live with my cats and I have to put my things in boxes and my god I've never felt so lost and homeless.

Miles to go

I've lost half my hair and regained none of my mind and I don't think that is even close to fair a bargain for all the money I'm spending on medicine. I hate the feeling of my skin. I'm the heaviest I've been since high school and I hate it I hate it hate it.

Hi I'm ally and I'm an alcoholic. I don't want to talk about my weight anymore, especially now that I have a new mind disorder to talk about. A new disease to let consume me. I'm an alcoholic, let's talk about that. 

I didn't think that I would feel so much an alcoholic when I got out of rehab, my alcoholic career having lasted only a month and a half. I didn't even get withdrawals in detox or cravings over the last two months. But not I am so acutely aware of the existence of alcohol.

Now let's talk about a new problem.

Family. 

Family is hard.

Especially when your little brother is nowhere near okay and your parents seem to forget you exist and suddenly you're all alone and, just like the aforementioned little brother, not okay. It's hard when you can see all the little holes between family members and all the pieces of you that you're just starting to gather back together (imagine balls of clay), all these pieces just fall through these holes and that is what family is to me. It's hard. I'm not making sense. I'm tired.

Rehabilitation rehabilitated

Ive been away for the past two months. Counting the time I wasn't entirely myself and almost consistently drunk then that's 3 and a half.rehab did me good. I didn't find a cure all for my low self esteem and my desire to chalk up more suicide attempts until the one magic ticket, but I did find processes of opening that will hopefully help me not die. This is the story of me trying to live and trying to enjoy it. Time to stop trying to die, Ally. 

Though I arrived back from Bacolod yesterday morning, I only truly came home today. I am back with my boyfriend slash bestfriend slash better half and the joy made me cry. Good crying. Emotions are health, like olive oil and cardiovascular activity. 

I'm so tired. My brain is all over the place and I am not sure what I should be doing. I feel like after coming out of rehab, after now being an alcoholic, I should post something significant or at least well written or at least proof read but we all know I won't. I'll type things in a frenzy (as I usually do) and tap post without thinking twice (as I usually do) then months later retread my whole blog in a fit of sentimentality over myself and then see mistakes everywhere and edit the posts, alwsys missing a couple (as I usually do).

But for now, I am happy. Dear sad blog, I am happy today because I got to see Johnny and he kissed me hard and I feel loved and that makes me not want to slit my wrists for now.