I apologize in advance because this probably isn't going to make a whole lot of sense because I am going to try to explain the way I am feeling, and there is no logic behind this feeling. I am not even sure what to call it. Fear is probably the closest I can get to naming it.
So today I went back to my apartment. I convinced myself I was ready and needed to go. Boy, was I wrong about being ready.
I left my apartment in quite a state. In part this is because I didn't expect to be away for several weeks. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. It was a mess to begin with, but I have found some very gross food items that I left and didn't think ahead to what they would look like in 3 weeks. In that time, I only stopped by once to pick up some clothes.
When I got home today, I was already feeling a bit off... it was only the 2nd time I had driven in the past several weeks, and i drove home with 2 upset cats in the car. I walked into an apartment where I can barely see any carpet. This is the first time the apartment has reached a state where I don't think I can clean it. I have briefly debated what would happen if I just left it when my lease ends, but I am sure they would charge me a ton. I have debated practical ways of handling it. Like I will gather one bag of trash a day until it is all gone. However, in the past that hasn't worked because I create trash and mess at the same time as I am cleaning. I am probably going to hire someone at some point, but I kinda want it to be a stranger so I don't feel judged. In the meantime, I did a few tasks.. I got rid of the old litter box and put the new one together. I gathered some trash and took some bags out.
Honestly, I only worked on it because I couldn't handle the thought of just sitting in my apartment. It's a reminder of all that is wrong in my life. It is the biggest unmanageable. I am still not convinced I want to be alive, and I am coming home everyday to an apartment full of trash. It makes me feel worthless.
I have other fears. A lot of them are unknowns. Like my teeth have been hurting, but I am scared to go to the dentist and find out what's wrong with them. I am scared to even look at them and see the erosion or cavities. I am still out of shape and struggling to carry things up to the apartment or walk up the stairs without holding the railing. My arms are flabby and have lost muscle. I don't understand how I can struggle to walk up the stairs when I did it on a daily basis. There's no nutritional reason. I have gained weight in the weeks since I quit drinking because I have been eating more and have been in environments where people served me food. I did go back to mostly being vegetarian.. I did eat chicken today, but I intend to go back to vegetarian now. I really never stopped believing I shouldn't eat meat, but I chose the attitude that I needed to get calories in and so I could eat what was convenient. When I was drinking heavily, I chose to eat convenience foods to make sure that I wasn't doing additional damage by not eating enough. In the hospital and afterward, it was easy enough to give up meat.
So my apartment is a major source of fear, but there is another fear that I cannot define. I guess the only way to explain it is that I am afraid that I am not going to live much longer. I think the idea is that very little changed while I was in the hospital or at my parents house. Now that I am back in my own home, I am very aware of how little changed. I still want to die. I am scared of going back to work and people commenting on my being gone. I am scared that I am already thinking of overdosing and what pills I have.
I have another fear about going back to work. I am scared I won't be able to do it. My memory is screwed up. There were many times while with my parents that I didn't remember things we talked about. Yesterday, I swear my mom mentioned me going to a meeting at 11.. so in my head I was convinced the meeting was at 11. I walked to the meeting, and nobody was there. Turned out the meeting was at 12, so I walked home and then walked back. But this kind of thing keeps happening. I am worried about what is going to happen at work. I don't know if it is appropriate to explain to someone why my memory is screwed up because I don't want them convinced it is my fault. Between my memory being bad and being covered in bruises from the IVs.. I look like I have been doing drugs.
The other fear is that my memory won't improve. I won't be able to handle working.. I won't be able to live alone safely. Then what happens? Am I going to end up on disability at 30? Am I just going to kill myself either intentionally or with alcohol?
So my head is in a dark place. I am going through the motions. I took out some trash. I went and bought hair dye. I went to a meeting. The meeting was about a woman's son dying. He had a history with drugs and mental illness. This only made me think more about dying. It made me want to die and it reminded me that people would be hurt.
I started writing this last night. I came home and drank. I watches 30 Rock and Intervention and went to bed. Now I am killing time before lunch. I considered texting my parents, but I imagine they're sick of me. I will probably go shopping after lunch. Then I will probably drink again. I seriously am afraid that I will end up unable to work. I guess there's no point thinking about it.
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