Tonight, I can speak these words.

 It's been a very, very long time since I've written anything. 

I'm still not sure my voice is unique or worth remembering. I am like so many others, and make so little difference in the world. 

Why did I say that? I don't know when I started feeling like this. 

Maybe this is why I drink. I have a drinking problem. I've said it before in my head more and more over the last year, and even said it not-jokingly a couple of times out loud. I've fixed it by surrounding myself with other drinkers. But why do I feel the need to numb myself every night? What shame am I hiding? I don't like myself, but why? I drink because I'm ashamed of something, and I'm ashamed because I drink. Is it all just the alcohol? Is it a sick cycle? 

My life is great. I wish I was prouder of the things I have - of my job(s), of my boyfriend, of my friends and network. Of how I look and the health I'm in, of what my body can do. Of my possessions, of my apartment and car and life. But I'm just... not. I'm just not proud of any of it. 

I love my apartment like I love all old things, but I'm ashamed that I did not get this apartment on my own, that I can't afford it on my own, that my life isn't together enough to pay it on time, that I haven't designed it myself. I allow Tucker to trash it because I'm not proud of it. 

I should be proud of the work I do... but I'm just not. I'm tired but I don't feel like I do enough. Is that because I'm always tired because I'm hungover? I think I've been given so, so many opportunities, and I've actually been able to translate them into good work. Why am I not prouder of myself? I DO do good work. But I'm still ashamed that I can't do more. 

I'm... not ashamed of my boyfriend. He's wonderful and I'm lucky to have him. But he's falling down a blackhole and it's linked to alcohol. How can I help him to stop when I also have a problem? How can I be strong for him when I'm not strong for myself? 

My body. This is the largest source of shame. I am aging. There is no way around it. I always thought I'd be hot and beautiful at some point in my life, and that time has never come. My face is aging, pimpled, wrinkled, dry, and hairy. My hair is grey, greasy, wirey. My back is pimpled, stocky, and chubby. My ass is lumpy and pimpled. My pubic hair is thick, matted, embarrassing. My stomach is bulbous and fat. My breasts break my heart. My nipples are hairy, and my breasts look like two spoiling grapes that are just past being edible. My legs are well shaped but hairy and the skin is ugly. And this is my pinnacle! It only goes down hill from here. 

I waste my life drinking. Almost all the interactions I've had with my mother and with Tucker are drunk ones. What memories am I making? Why am I throwing my life away? What am I running from? What reality am I avoiding? My life is great.

 I keep people-pleasing and giving giving giving more of me than I want to. 

Maybe I just need to clean my apartment and do my laundry. 

Even now Katherine is texting about coming down to drink, and Maribeth is complaining, and I want to stop writing this to talk to her. 

I need to start putting myself first. I almost screw up my relationship so many times because I can't envision a future in which it's not screwed up anyways, and might as well screw it up now and get more bang for my buck.  I keep drinking with Katherine and Joel and Tucker, and not going to the gym. I keep bleeding money on takeaway and alcohol deliveries because "I can't sleep" and "I get bored at night". I keep embarrassing myself in front of my family and Tucker's family because I drink too much. I don't trust myself around new people because I'll know I have 3-4 drinks and then they'll know I have a problem and stop talking to me. 

I have an alcohol problem. I do. There is no more space to run from it. Am I strong enough to fight it? To fight myself and all the people in my life who drink with me? Tucker will be on my side, but does he even want to be? 

I know I'm putting my head in the sand about Tucker. I KNOW he's depressed, unmotivated, not taking his mental health seriously. I know living on the Upper West Side is killing him a little more every single day, and that he's so depressed that he's drinking himself to sleep just to get through it. I know he loves me and values having some semblance of stability so much that he's putting up with living here... but even if we move to Brooklyn, will he even be happy? What makes him happy, anyways? Food and alcohol seem to, so they've been easy fixes. And he's gained 50 pounds in the last year as a result. What's the long-term thing? Moving to Vermont? Having children of his own? Career fulfillment? Always chasing the newest thing? He keeps comparing himself to Anthony Bourdain. I do see the resemblance, but if Tucker was like Anthony Bourdain, it would mean he's never really able to be satisfied. So what the fuck do I do with that?

And is Tucker's dissatisfaction the reason why my alcoholism went from being fun to tragic? I think it might be. I'm not blaming him, but are we just dragging each other down? Does he hate living here, which makes him drink, which makes me drink, which makes him drink, which I interpret as him not wanting to be with me, which makes me ashamed, which makes me drink, which makes me be mean to him, which makes him drink, which makes me drink? 

This needs to end. I love myself too much to throw my life away. I love Tucker too much to allow him to throw his life away. But where do we start? How do I start? By just not drinking tonight. I just have to get through tonight. I have a whole bunch of things I can do... I don't know how long it's been since I went through one night without drinking. Even in the depth of COVID, I was still drinking. But I'm going to try it tonight and see if I can do it.