Sad Drunk

Yesterday, I was sad drunk. I'm sad drunk a lot, which is not to say that I'm sad and I drink a lot, but rather to say that often when I drink, what with my emotional background of constant sadness, I get plunged into a depth of said sadness that I am totally helpless to. The opposite of this is when I start to drink and I feel sad, but I push through somehow and have a great, happy, drunk time, which I will feel triumphant about for possibly weeks at a time.

Mum's here now. I hadn't forgot that our relationship is dependent on my acquiescence to her emotional whims but I'd forgotten how much and I'm tired.

Yesterday, upon a family friend's instruction, we went to a fancy bar. I didn't know about this; I phoned mum after I finished work at 4 or 5 to see where she was and she told me. I packed my bags to spend the night where mum's staying and joined the two of them and I realised when I got there that mum was tipsy. They'd already had two drinks and while I was there I had two drinks and they had two drinks, bringing mum up to four and from tipsy up to drunk. I hate seeing mum drunk. I've only seen it one or two other times in my life and one of those led to, or was correlated with, an event that still comes at me through the depths of my mind when I least expect it. I won't say what, but I hint at it in that poem the fairies.

This was one reason why I was sad, or angry. Two other reasons:

- one I'm too shy or embarrassed to say on here (which is saying something, given the shit I've put out on this blog), but which I will say involves a recent instance in which I made it through the sadness to a great drunk time.

- the other being that mum has decided to hang out with a friend whose son (whom she lives with) has COVID, and I'm scared that we'll (I'll) get it.

So yes. Last night, for these three reasons, I was sad drunk. Sad drunk is different to regular drunk, or happy drunk; I feel high instead. I listen to music alone on the tube back (because I've inevitably left early), and I can feel it like I'm on MDMA. It feels like the air is more of a liquid, and I'm swimming. The same as how the air feels when I'm sober and very very very sad, dissociative - I describe it here. And I fantasise about finding a piece of broken glass on the side of the road, and cutting my down my wrist with it till I see bone, and the skin of my arm is splayed out like an open book. And I wake up the next morning, and sometimes I'm okay again, and I get my coffee and go about my day, or sometimes I'm definitely not okay and it feels like all the work I've done to feel mentally stable over the past weeks has been totally undone and not even taking my meds again can help me this time. Like today, here, in Senate House Library, typing, knowing soon I'll have to see my mother again.