Numbing the Pain

Last night, I am ashamed to say, I resorted to drinking. Ever since my overdose two months ago I cut out all alcoholic beverages from my life. One, because I felt that I needed to show my housemates that I was making an effort to recover and two, I hoped it would cause my medication to finally work. My housemates never knew about my depression until my attempt in February. I have had many years of practice in hiding it but even my skills couldn’t hide an ambulance outside the house. They reacted very badly to say the least and phrases such as “You’re burdening so-and-so” and “You need to think of others” and my personal favourite “You’re not even trying, you need to try harder” were going amongst the ranks faster than a labour party email. I thought that if I cut out alcohol all together they would see how much I was trying. Don’t think it worked.

Yesterday things just got too much and I found myself drinking the little alcohol in the house before taking a trip to the shops and buying some more. I feel like a failure. I am a failure. I lasted two meagre months. And now, the numbing effect of drink seems appealing once again. I always knew that once I cracked I wouldn’t be able to control myself and now I’m afraid of what I may do. I’m on my own, no one nearby to stop me. I need to distract myself and it really isn’t working. I just need to last till tomorrow. I have an appointment with my doctor in the morning, I just have to last till then. 14 hours, 5 minutes.

Shit.