A brief recap of what happened in 2011.
I fell in love with a man and moved in with him shortly after. We had a barbeque on our balcony and buddah paintings I collected from my various Asian travels we hung around the apartment. Then we fought and fought some more. I started playing bowling with the empty wine bottles I had collected. I tried to leap out the balcony one night. I finally decided to end it in a less messy way by doing shots of vodka and popping sleeping pills with each. I passed out at the 27th. I woke up with bags of my belongings next to me at the hospital. He had left me in the most brutal way possible.
Angry, alcohol deprived me is not to be fucked with. I went back to "our" apartment and tried to stab him. I didn't manage to stab him even though I distinctly remember pulling two knives. Oh well.
Briefly homeless, I had spent weekends at friends, week nights at relatives and finally moving back home with my parents. The idea didn't sit well with me so I trolled Craiglist for a room mate. I finally decided that it was easier giving losers on dating websites an impression I might fall in love with them. I moved into someone I met off the website's spare room shortly after.
My drinking got progressively worst. I had started chopping up my prescription medication and snorting them because happy dust is unavailable in this city then I would be sad when there was no rush and drank some more. This was also when I met N. (This deserves a story on its own)
One night I decided that I was going to end it (again). I had 3 drinks at a bar downstairs, feeling more depressed with each drink, I think the decision to end my life was a brilliant one. I found myself sitting in that spare room feeling empty. I opened the window and looked down. 24 floors down. Fuck this. I poured myself another drink. Looks like we are back to shots and pills. The last thing I remembered was finishing possibly all alcohol in the apartment and everything I could find that resembled a pill in any shape or form. I passed out at the 40th.
N saved me.
I was in a coma for 2 days. Doctors say I was "inches from death". My liver was going to fail on me. I remember being slightly amused that I was put in an adult diaper. I also had a pee bag. My sister said N stroked my hair while was in the ICU.
Fast forward to 2012.
I am 8 days sober. I am attending AA meetings. I no longer hate my shrink. I haven't tried to kill myself or anyone yet.
I think this year might be a better year.
