Except, then she woke me up every 15 minutes and then hourly all night long, then vomited on my bed at sunrise but I was already awake since she last woke me up at 5am. So I got up and washed my sheets. Who needs sleep!
Me. I cannot function at all without sleep. So now my hand is bloody because then glass shattered everywhere and the cat is locked in the bathroom until I figure out what is making her vomit and I'm mopping and mopping waiting for my brain to arrive.
So I called N for help because I'm overwhelmed. There's a giant growing barricade of junk I don't know where to put (help), glass on floor and in my hand (help), confused cat locked in bathroom (help), I'm asking for help and N just says: "I'm sorry."
I rattle on hoping asking for help will result in help, but then he says, "Do you think I hate you?"
I wish I had slept more because I'm trying to process that question but it seems unrelated. How is this about him? Does he need me to reassure him right now? Right now when I'm clearly in distress and already overwhelmed?
Puts mop down. Hold on, let me wait to bandage my bleeding hand to center a man's needs first. Instead I echoed what he told me: "I'm sorry." And hung up. Because clearly I am on my own here. Like always.
My brain worked a whole lot better before it decided it needed to see a human in person. Dumbass me, thinking I needed one hug this year, from my only sexual partner, a delusional alcoholic who couldn't turn down a drink at a job interview and obviously failed that character test. (And were those needle scars on his legs??) I thought he was sober? He said being alone was easier to manage so I assumed he was doing better without me, not worse. Addiction is a progressive disease. He's clearly given up on himself. Prepare another coffin.
He scared me to death so I blocked him and reach instead for a cat who is psychologically safer, but is robbing me of sleep which my sanity requires.
But I can't sleep because it's day and I need to mop and bandage and problem-solve. So I put gin and weed in my coffee because another man is killing himself exhibitionist-style and I am supposed to be zen about it, but everything is insane, and everyone is in denial, and it's getting to me today. I wish this man's family was alive to take care of him.
I'll be ok as soon as I am allowed to actually sleep.
Yesterday I looked at houses in Honolulu because I googled: "cities without alcoholics" and it topped the chart. Guess where I'm moving?
I'm going to buy whatever maximum strength earplugs it takes to be able to sleep through an insomniac cat's hourly screams, so that I have a functional brain to figure out why she is screaming at night and vomiting and peeing outside her toilet suddenly. Is she an alcoholic too? Lol.
A screaming vomiting pissing cat is better than a boy. She's laying by my side, loving me, not lying to me, not hiding booze, not cheating, not picking fights, not killing herself. She doesn't deny reality. She communicates. She has the brain capacity to love and empathize. She nuzzles my face when I'm sad. Boys pee and vomit and scream too, but with none of the benefits a cat brings to the table.
I'll spend the next however many months recovering again from my mistake of believing M was sober, or needing a hug badly enough to risk it. So sad to see. Really don't need more grief. But men leave me no choice, besides giving up. And I'm not giving up over a guy. Even if every man I ever loved dies of this disease, I'm still not giving up on myself.
- 2023-03-27