Invisible line of alcoholism

We all need a break to have fun and to relax. But when we find ourselves needing a few sips constantly so we can have fun, and then require a glass to relax, this might be a good sign to cut it back. Few examples in the link for the concerned few:

Signs for happy hour time management problems

My mother was a severe alcoholic and I didn’t portray any of her old symptoms. I wasn’t worried about my next drink, I didn’t plan around alcohol. I was pretty much ok. However, as soon as that alcohol hit my lips, I couldn’t stop myself. There was no off switch. I guess I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to get ‘sober’. It’s so hard to explain the feeling of not wanting to stop the drink flow (especially since I’m sober atm). It got to a point where I passed out at a bar.

I remember laying on the sticky floor, covered in vomit. I remember random strangers just touching me, trying to prop my head up, turning me over, and using their jackets to clean or lay under me. I’m unsure what they were for. I just laid there passing in and out. I couldn’t move my body. I could barely see or hear. Friends kept shaking me so I would wake up. The ambulance came and told everyone I was overdosing. (I was told this later) The scariest feeling is the uncertainty of life or death. The last time I woke up at the bar, I screamed out I wanted my mom. I wanted to go home. I thought that I wouldn’t wake up again. I blacked out while listening to my friends screaming my name, shaking me.

Next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital at 1pm with Lance (my 2 yr bf) sitting from across the bed, just looking at me. I didn’t remember crap that day. He had told me everything that happened, that police came and told everyone I was overdosing on drugs, that they had seen this before. This thought makes me so mad. I didn’t want people thinking I was a heavy duty drug user, let alone any kind of drug user. But I had put my self in that situation, and I was ok now. Thank, GOD.

Not eating or drinking much all day, was a big factor in my alcohol poisoning that night. (plus my inability to stop drinking played a huge part) I have heard people say I’m an alcoholic, but I don’t refer to myself as such. (I guess to save myself from explaining)  I definitely do have a drinking problem, don’t get me wrong. But that’s all I call it, my “drinking problem”. I can say ‘no’ and I don’t have that constant or everyday urge to drink. But when I do get that 2nd drink in me, I will drink until who knows when. I think I don’t like using the alcoholic word on myself because others can get confused on the term, sometimes even starting arguments. Plenty of people from both sides of the fence say I’m an alcoholic, or that I’m not. (by definition) But I don’t care. As long as I’m alive and taking care of myself, I am all good.


Reality of Dani California

Every time I imagine myself living in Cali, I’m always more attractive. Must be that natural golden filter that comes with the name. Maybe I’ll say to hell with everything one day and find balls to move. But I’m realistic. Seeing the opportunity as just fools gold and telling myself it’s all fake. But I still daydream of becoming a surfer girl, making good money just by being rad and showing up to the beach.

My sandy hair, athletically slim build, tan skin and mainstream tattoos would fit in the Cali scene. Along with my open minded personality of an average millennial with minor quirks who would kill to live by the shore.

No idea why I’ve always had this urge for a Cali life. My thoughts range from every angle:

‘It would make you so much happier’  ‘You’ll fit in more’  ‘They are open minded to new style, new thoughts, new ways’  ‘You will learn how to surf in one week and become a lifetime pro’  ‘No worries and no problems’  ‘Healthy vegan eating everyday’  ‘You will be goals’

But in reality, I’ll more than likely be kidnapped or end up in a ditch.

⌋⌋  She’s a runner- surfer and a stunner- on her merry way saying sir, where’s the driver? – Looking down the barrel of a hot metal forty five – Tryin’ find a way to survive- California rest in peace

And that’s the end of that crappy dream.


Beach Weekend

After this trip, I’m thinking the NJ’s Wildwood title might have came from the wild, non-stop, younger party goers. It’s definitely a place to go if your looking for either clean or adult action. —

In the mood for a last minute party? A guarantee, you will find one within a 3 minutes walk where ever you are located. Don’t like their hip-hop music? Just skip down the street and more than likely, another party will be playing your choice of genre.

Need your self esteem boosted? Or looking for a man? Stroll on over to the boardwalk. Whistles will follow behind you and college studs will block your path. But beware! When you step foot off the wood, there will be plenty of fish, hungry & attacking for bait. They tend to swarm into large groupies if they find something they like.

Sunburned and hot after hitting the waves? The Motel’s check in has an air conditioner, right next to those half full alcohol bottles.

Missing your loving pet after a long day of vacay? No tears! The Motel comes with it’s very own, ear-sized spider! Ours was about to bathe. Thank goodness this place cared about hygiene! —-

All in all, we were entertained and made memories. I recommend the ferris wheel, the height is unreal as well as the view. The beach wasn’t too crowded and the food was AMAZING. So much variety in things to do, see and eat.

My Piece of Gold

Early Morning

She’s my companion, my precious side kick, the everyday glow. She plays an important, everyday part in my emotional support system. Gives me kisses if I cry, even though she probably just wants to lick my salty tears. But that’s ok! Lifts my mood every time.

They say dogs can sense emotions in their owners. It sounds so silly, but I wish I could sense her feelings better than I currently do. I think my anxiety has rubbed off on her, giving her separation anxiety and her skittish ways. I care and think too much about this at times. Even spoiling and treating her like my own baby. But I remind myself that at least she’s living a good life.


I was a very quiet girl growing up. Raised conservatively, told to respect everyone, and had later grown into a habit of putting others first. Years go by, and I start to perceive myself ‘lower’ than everyone else. I felt, and truly believed, I wasn’t worthy of talking to anyone. If I had to, I tried to talk short and quickly so I wouldn’t waste any more of their time. We weren’t poor, I wasn’t picked on, I did this to myself for no reason. I became the most awkward kid in my high school.

Comments were occasionally thrown at me but I wasn’t bullied or anything severe. It was to be expected, thinking about myself back then makes me cringe AF. You could physically see that I was uncomfortable and scared of talking to others. Sweaty, teased hair, sharpie marks all over my hands, 24/7. Black shirts and convo shoes were my camouflage. I wanted no attention. My crave to just disappear would make my life worse. The more I blocked myself off, the higher my anxiety rose over time. I was a hermit with no shell, no protection from the ‘predators’ in my mind. My only safe place was home.

My parents would get frustrated at the fact I had no friends, as well as grades. Arguments would last for days. Resulting in me being kicked outside because of how drastic the fights would get. I didn’t know what to tell them. I was ashamed and embarrassed for who I become. I didn’t understand why I was so strange. I wasn’t different in middle school. It just creeped up on me and started a quiet battle.

I was exhausted. Every night I was awake until 3 or 4am worrying about BS and had to wake up at 6:45am for school. When the morning alarm clock screeched, stressed tears would usually follow. I never bothered to tell my parents this, fearing they would get mad. I only wanted sleep. Wanted to go home, be alone, and get rest.

I still live with social anxiety, and will most likely have it for the rest of my life, but medication dials it down. Allowing me to do everyday things (and sleep) without constant paranoia.

Severe Social Anxiety makes life hell.