This was a couple months ago, near the end of 2021.

I threw out my back when I BENT OVER TO PICK SOMETHING UP OFF THE FLOOR. I stood back up, as you do, & before I became a straight line I realized I was not the same version of myself I was before, & reflexively snapped back over to avoid further pissing off my lower back, which was now fucking furious & letting me know. Threw my hands down to catch myself, which put me in a strange pose in front of the wide open front door. I watched the cars driving by as I contemplated my predicament. I don’t know how I ended up as an EXTREME SPORTS x yoga mashup competitor, but the challenge was clear: make it down the hallway (appearing longer by the second) & into my room safely.

Some choice expletives were verbalized, but won’t be printed here, at the foul-mouthed party’s request. She is afraid her Mema may read this at some point, & frankly I don’t blame her. Mema apologizes first to Jesus, then to me, whenever she accidentally lets a frustrated “crap” slip out in my presence. I once used a certain f-word on Facebook, which, I heard through the grapevine, was a great source of grief to her. The anonymous party & myself agree that including the explicit dialogue would only cause a fuss.

So anyway, contorted my body just enough to slowly crab walk down the hall.

I made it to my room where I ingeniously interpretively danced my way down to the floor against my bed in a way that made my back booboo, & the weird twitchy thing my toe was doing, considerably less ouchy & twitchy, respectively.

Grabbed my nearby laptop & keyboard with my toes, which is the one time this ridiculous talent has actually been useful instead of just a tool for laziness or gross party trick) hunched over to type, & promptly plopped right over on my side.

Laid up helpless like a goddamn turtle. Turtles probably have more dignity than I though, as I began howling (my mother would probably use the word whining) & did not let up until my mother answered my pitiful cries for help. Thankfully she was just getting home, or I surely would’ve perished in that position.

After assessing the situation, which was a 60” TV screen with Google results for death by broken back statistics, & her daughter, COVID-19 & alcoholism survivor, succumbed to the boring ass banalities of old-age related injuries.

She assured me repeatedly that my back was not, in fact, broken, just strained, gave me lots of medicine, asked if I wanted a drink, clarified the offer was good for non-alcoholic beverages only when I requested vodka “neat, but straight from the bottle’s fine,” & brought me a water that I begrudgingly accepted.

Then we had a floor picnic in my room, as I was an invalid who wouldn’t survive a second attempt through the hall. She offered to toss my catfish nuggies right into my mouth, but after some thought we agreed Dude was the best at that game, & would intercept every single attempted pass.

The nuggies healed me enough to get into bed although I slept in a very concerning position, & I awoke the next day covered in lidocaine patches & that is how I am able to carry on today despite having such a grievous injury.

for the person who spent years indulging every single whim they ever had and now cannot produce their own dopamine

(i wrote this in my journal a couple months ago + will type it up in the morning because i procrastinate everything. i have no dopamine.)

if you write your blog titles like news headlines, it really drives home how your life is meaningless + that most people don’t give a shit about the banality of the lives of others

so without booze, i haven’t felt much of anything besides general indifference. no pink cloud, no hopeless depression, no fits of rage.

until two days ago, one of those days where everything is just lousy.

maybe your body aches all over (by you i mean me). maybe you’ve been sleep deprived for several days in a row + your brain + body are realizing that. maybe you have a to do list so daunting you refuse to actually write it down because then it becomes something that actually exists + must be addressed, but you have no motivation to even jot down the top few priorities.

maybe all of this culminates in you (me) facedown, sobbing into your pillow, at 2pm on a Tuesday while your well-intentioned but decidedly non-alcoholic mother alternates between advice from Loving an Alcoholic 101 and trying to sympathize by talking about her meth stint in the nineties.

this only makes you cry harder. when she leaves, you text half like six people about how fucking badly you want a drink suddenly. one is there within minutes. you’re safe. no drinking tonight.

but what about the next time?

Pinterest rabbit hole day. while half-ass cleaning up some boards to justify how long i’d been on that timesuck of a website, i found a pin i’d saved about structuring your schedule when unemployed. i laughed + laughed + laughed before remembering i am actually trying to organize my entire life. i’d love to be stable someday. i briefly remember the feeling from back in 2013 or so. ironically, i started drinking again the next year.

it always amazes me that i can be as intelligent as i am (book smarts), yet willfully ignorant of the correlation between the periods of stability + my alcohol consumption or lack of.

anyway, now that my house renovation is done + i’m transitioning back to living there, i’m going to have a lot of free time. especially since drinking was a full-time job + i took that commitment very seriously. it probably wouldn’t kill me to put a routine in place in the next few days.

historically, an unsupervised Kirsten does not do well with lack of structure + ample free time. by that i mean, she does exactly what she wants knowing damn well that it’s the exact thing she shouldn’t be doing, nor will it benefit her in any way.

the good news is, i don’t think i am that person anymore. those things i wanted to do made me feel good, or at least better than before i did them, but they consumed me + left nothing. so i’ve committed to trying something different, even if it doesn’t sound fun. god this being responsible stuff is for the birds though.