Blacking out life and waking up to reality.

I don't think I've ever left a party sober, infact my aim is to never remember leaving a party. Normally I would black out at about 10pm. The rest of the evening would wash over me like a dream but I'd wake up like I'd been caught in a nightmare, heart racing, brow sweating, all because I was scared of what I had done or said. My habit of consistently overdoing it was all I knew, its how in unwind and it was joyful at the time, I think? but if you can't really recollect anything from the night before are you really having a nice time?

I presumed I was, for 20 or so years, but now I realise I was just doing what I knew and what all my friends were doing. A good night? I'm not sure, messy , yes, eventful, yes. enjoyable?

I don't know. I wasn't there, I was somewhere else. My face was there, smiling. My feet were there, dancing. But me? I was off in a seperate room of my brain with the doors closed. That person wasn't me, it was a version of me and one I don't know and have never met. I've seen videos of me drunk before. I simply don't know that person, I don't even recognise her voice, its shrill and incoherent. But this is the me that everyone else knows. party me.

I heard my Mum say recently that she was sure shed had a brilliant night because she couldn't remember it. It sounds ridiculous but reminded me that I have done that all my life. I realise in hindsight that the only way to be present and in a moment is to be sober otherwise it may have never happened.

I wonder if the nightclub fondles with strange men may have been more thrilling sober or would they have never happened? probably not. I think I'd still be a virgin if it wasn't for cider. Actually I think the majority of those one nighters can be left in the black out where they belong.

I now believe that I would've continued drinking, all day, everyday if I didn't get hung over, it was my body telling me to stop or slow down, maybe I should have listened to my bodies voice crying out instead of forgetting the Sunday pain by Tuesday and being ready for the next round my Wednesday?

and as for the blackouts, they happened quicker towards the end of my drinking days, just one or two wines and the evening would disappear down the drain along with my regurgitated kebab. A frightening side effect of too much alcohol in my bloodstream that I just ignored. No questions were asked as I revealed to mates that I couldn't remember a thing, just pats on the back for being such a well established booze bag and such a cheap date.

Confronting and addressing the black outs would have caused me major anguish because I wasn't ready to stop drinking. Simple. Ignore it and knock back another shot, much easier.

I wanted to trick myself into believing what I was doing to myself was ok and facing the truth was too hard.

Game on.

or

Game over?

Pic - Me proving that drinking is Shellfish - sorry.