My broken record

When I said I was going to stop drinking, damn I didn’t know it would be so hard. I don’t consider myself a hardcore drunk, more of a binge drinker who takes it too far sometimes. I think that’s part of my problem, because when people say “one day at a time” I figure that’s so of easy. I don’t need to drink everyday. I don’t need to drink every week. But when I do drink after a long hiatus, the beginning is usually mild. I don’t over do it. But a couple of days later, I’m at the liquor buying bottles and planning on staying up all night. I don’t even go out, unplug my phone and it’s just me and the liquor in my apartment alone. I’d drink until I’m falling down, listening to music, looking at old pictures. But sometimes what I consider my “me” time seeps out. Listening to the music, old pictures and videos begin to bring up not so pleasant memories and I want attention. That is when the phone calling start. That is when the suicidal feelings begin to nag. It’s like I use the alcohol so that I can stay in the past.

When I finally come through off of my binge, I feel so guilty. I miss days and can’t remember. I know I have harassed or pissed off some people. I usually blame it on my bipolar or something. I’d feel so guilty like I want to hide my head in shame for at least a month. I don’t want to talk about it.

I’ve experience people who repeat the same mistakes over and over again that it’s their broken record. I think most of us have broken records. I get so sick and tired of mine but every once and awhile I need to play it. Maybe this time it won’t scratch or skip. It’s my most unattractive flaw; I know it, but those who really love put up with it.