getting shit-faced drunk

The past week have been excruciatingly self-absorbed, mopping and feeling sorry for myself time. I hate it when I go through these periods of obsessing over my pain but I cannot help it. I knew it was about to come and so for the past week I have been crying almost 3-4 times a day everyday. To cap it off appropriately, I got shit-faced drunk last night. I really didn't purposely think of getting drunk as I don't usually do. I just like drinking, maybe I am an alcoholic but I can pretty much hold my alcohol. But last night on the way home, I asked Peewee about three times to pull over so I can barf myself to death. To think I only had a few glasses of wine, sharing the bottle with Ria. Maybe because I ate so little before drinking. I had no appetite to eat. A lump in my throat, and a big rock sat there in my stomach. I am dying to get out of my head but I only feel the rest of the world closing in on me. As I try to reach out, I can faintly feel the warmth of human interaction but also still tempted to withdraw into my pain.
Coming home shit-drunk I wanted to throw myself to Peewee and remember the warmth and security that I first felt when I met him. I wanted to ask him to take care of me, I wanted to be vulnerable and fragile again in front of him but as soon as we come home, reality stares back at us. No, everything is different now we have to be stronger than we once were. Joaquin had a slight fever, immediately there seems no choice but to sober up. As soon as we gave joaquin his meds, I was out. Roused around 3am I realized that it wasn't even 11pm that I got smashed. Now my stomach is turning and have this icky feeling underneath my skin. I manage to get the marketing done and hope to get my act together today. No more mopping, please