I Just Want To Drink

Ever feel like you are just floating along an out of control current? Or perhaps it’s more like being surrounded by calmness but feeling intensely out of your element. Am I pretending to be good and full of good morals? When the truth is not that. How can you be free and wild and rebellious if you are constantly afraid of what it will do to the relationships that surround and support you?

Now that I’m here, I really want a drink, but I think they won’t let me. I’m so nervous and anxious. Lost. Who am I and why am I where I am? My thoughts are circling, and I can’t stop the spiraling repetitiveness of my obsessions. Being ok is a façade for me. I’m afraid.

Alejandro keeps telling me not to be scared and to be happy. I am trying, but faking it gets exhausting. I’ll stay today, but I don’t want to.

Feeling this way is confusing because I cannot feel the way I want to and also can’t feel the way I know I should feel…I can’t behave the way I feel but I also can’t successfully behave how I’m trying to. What the hell.

I’m avoiding the grandmother. I know if she gets the opening, she will definitely take a jab at me. Even if she is “so nice” otherwise. I cannot easily deal with self-esteem blows. I know it is a little fucked up, but I want a drink. I think the restrictiveness of drinking in this culture has made me feel like more of a problem drinker. Fuck. I don’t want to write about this because I am probably lying to myself and everyone else.

Photo by Lily Banse on Unsplash

Wow! Fucking wow! I want a drink and I was right, my boyfriend is so against it. We actually got in an argument about it. He doesn’t feel like he is being controlling but I do. If I was to drink something he would act like I did something awful to myself. It’s me! I can do whatever I want to myself! And the more controlled I feel the more rebellious I become. I know he wants the best for me, but what is “best” is through his perspective. I have no say. If I disagree then I am the rebel and the wild one. I am resistant to anyone telling me what to do.

He even said that I have to stop thinking it is normal to drink ever. He said I acted like I’m some out of control alcoholic. I’m so definitely not. If I act upset or sad about his control over this, then – somehow – it turns out it is my fault. I can’t do what I want, and I can’t react negatively to directions I’m given when it comes to my behavior and feelings. It isn’t advice, it is an order because if I disagree (about a choice that affects me) I look like the idiot and jerk who wouldn’t listen to someone who “knows what’s best” for me. He doesn’t call me that, he never would call me a bad name. I just know that’s what I look like. I hate myself. I am such a piece of fucking shit. I hate being me. No one likes who I am. I am not perfect, but no one accepts me for me.

He just came over and said, “I never said you did something wrong. I’m just worried, I care about you. I want to see you happy and enjoying life.”

No, I haven’t done anything wrong, yet. I’m going to rebel and have a fucking drink. Had he not made such a big deal about it, I wouldn’t give a fuck. Now I will do as I please.

Made a joke about wanting thirds of dinner (because it was fucking delicious) so I said, “Yo quiero, pero no puedo” aka “I want, but I can’t” and the grandmother chimed in, “No, you’ll get bigger.” Immediately, I went to the bathroom and forced myself to throw up.

I insisted on having one glass to drink. I had a champagne flute of Gancia and now he won’t talk to me. He’s avoiding talking to me. I can’t stand demands. It is my life and my body. I want to drink mostly because people tell me not to drink. I will fight tooth and nail against anyone that I perceive to be controlling me in any way. Maybe you want what’s best for me, but you force your opinion on me to the extent that if I make an alternate decision it will personally affect you. My boyfriend is supposed to be going with me to therapy tomorrow and I am sure he will insist, but I want to go alone to talk about this. He is so clearly annoyed with me. It sucks. He maybe cares too much? No, that is not the right way to talk about it. It’s having someone insist they know what’s best for you, as if you’re a child or deathly ill old person.

Mural in Colonia, Uruguay. Photo by Kristance Harlow

He refuses to understand my position of wanting to push myself and relax and be impulsive and do my own thing. My boyfriend might want the “best” for me but what the fuck does that mean? Why can’t I test the waters and see what’s best for me. I don’t want or need someone insisting that their world view is the one I must accept. I have to make my own choices and my own mistakes. It is such a trigger to be watched over whenever I choose to do something. Even if it’s something that is “bad” for me.

I feel a bit like Virginia Wolf, and the way they made her be portrayed in “The Hours.” She felt suffocated and so do I. She was with a man who was so concerned with her mental health he was became controlling about where she went and what she did. Eventually she died from suicide by drowning. She left a suicide note behind that, in part, explained that she was just doing all that must be done. She wanted to free her husband from the confines of her depression and mania. Perhaps, hurting another deeply is the only way to save them from drowning while trying to save you. I desperately want a pocket knife to cut myself with right now.