My brother passed away. It's been five days. I've drank every night I believe. Puffing away at my smoke. Dissociating. Isolating. I haven't even seen my boyfriend. God knows he's tried. I've rebuked him at every turn. I can't let him see me like this. I can't think straight. I certainly can't act normal. I look like shit and so sad. I'm ashamed of how I'm coping. I even took the week off work.
Tonight: it's Wednesday. I'm drinking. Listening to music. I haven't had much of an appetite lately. My elderly cat sleeps next to me. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Tomorrow: finally will see my man.
I can't think beyond that.
I can't think, period.
My plan is to finish all the booze in my house (I bought two bottles the other day when I ventured out, numb, looking for further numbing agents). Finish all the pot. Start fresh and sober. I actually had my first weed-free day last week. 24 hours without it. I want to do that again.
I've been out of touch with myself. But I did indulge in some retail therapy, treating myself to a bracelet, a necklace, and a coat. Plus some valentine's day goodies for K.
I want to start some sort of exercise routine and kick my habits. I'm sick of needing to be so fucking "high". Please. I don't get high anymore but the crutch is everything. My brain not firing on all cylinders this week is scaring the hell out of me. I mean, I've grieved before and don't remember feeling this brain-dead. But never before was it a sibling. Who fucking knows.
One day at a time. Rome wasn't built in a day. I must be present. I MUST be present. Presence is everything. The moment is all we really have.
Oh, but my thoughts love to drift...everywhere but here.
Clearly blogging isn't my focus.
Love & Peace,
Sar
