I should be at class. I'm sitting here, with all the windows wide open. There is a funny light to things that feels appropriate to the day. The breeze that crosses the room to visit the kitchen every few minutes is warm in the middle with a chill towards the end that bites my fingers and my nose. My head still aches a little from last night. And my shoulders ache with the weight of my actions. As I type the self-inflicted cut on my wrist slides against the desk every so often and I'm reminded of all that's wrong today.
Rewind.
I was making dinner for D and I and everything seemed fine. Except I suppose for the three bottles of wine that I almost singlehandedly drank myself. He was busy with taxes and homework and somehow I just drank and drank. After dinner I caught him coming out of the bathroom and dragged into the bedroom and pushed him on the bed for his impromptu blowjob of the month. Nothing went wrong there, that's for sure. It was afterwards that things got sticky. He was doing homework, sort of only mildly paying attention to me and I just kept drinking. Which, unfortunately, triggered a manic episode the likes of which neither of us have ever seen. It was so bad that I actually blacked out in the middle of it. I remember things before and after but not during. I don't even remember making this beautiful little cut in the center of my wrist. It's about two inches long and I made it with my Gillette razor. Which D promptly took away from me. I don't remember how it started or what was happening during, but D says there was a vacant look in my eyes like I'd stepped out for a bit. All I know is that I snapped back into the moment to find myself completely naked sitting on the bathroom floor among the remenents of the shower curtain that I'd pulled down and D was calling my mother. He held my hand while he talked to her then bent down and put the phone to my ear. I started crying and saying I was sorry. I heard her say she was on her way over. Then he talked to her again. After he hung up he pulled me off the floor into his arms and led me into my bed. He sat me down and dressed me, in pjs of course. Then he put his clothes on. His real clothes. I followed him about while he put his things away. At one point he kissed my mouth hugging me in the middle of the living room. Then we went and got in bed I lay my head on his chest and he stroked my hair. He told me he loved me somewhere about ten times. When my mother arrived that's where she found us. My head already hurt and I was given tylenol and water. He stayed for a bit then drove himself home, leaving me in the hands of my mother.
Pause.
Everything is not ok. But everything is fine enough I suppose. Luckily I've escaped the threat of institutionalization by the sheer luck that it was the alcohol that made me manic. I'm not to drink again. I don't think I want to. All I can really say about the whole thing is I'm lucky. I'm lucky that D is in my life and is taking care of me. I found this picture the other day that is sitting now on my desk,waiting to be framed once more, of he and I the first night we met. Its the cutest thing, he's got an arm slung around my back and looking pretty smug at having me so close, and I've got a cig in one hand and the other arm around his neck I'm smiling so big you'd think my face was gonna break. I look at this picture, at these two people and I just think...
"The two of you have no idea what you're getting yourselves into."
Rewind.
I was making dinner for D and I and everything seemed fine. Except I suppose for the three bottles of wine that I almost singlehandedly drank myself. He was busy with taxes and homework and somehow I just drank and drank. After dinner I caught him coming out of the bathroom and dragged into the bedroom and pushed him on the bed for his impromptu blowjob of the month. Nothing went wrong there, that's for sure. It was afterwards that things got sticky. He was doing homework, sort of only mildly paying attention to me and I just kept drinking. Which, unfortunately, triggered a manic episode the likes of which neither of us have ever seen. It was so bad that I actually blacked out in the middle of it. I remember things before and after but not during. I don't even remember making this beautiful little cut in the center of my wrist. It's about two inches long and I made it with my Gillette razor. Which D promptly took away from me. I don't remember how it started or what was happening during, but D says there was a vacant look in my eyes like I'd stepped out for a bit. All I know is that I snapped back into the moment to find myself completely naked sitting on the bathroom floor among the remenents of the shower curtain that I'd pulled down and D was calling my mother. He held my hand while he talked to her then bent down and put the phone to my ear. I started crying and saying I was sorry. I heard her say she was on her way over. Then he talked to her again. After he hung up he pulled me off the floor into his arms and led me into my bed. He sat me down and dressed me, in pjs of course. Then he put his clothes on. His real clothes. I followed him about while he put his things away. At one point he kissed my mouth hugging me in the middle of the living room. Then we went and got in bed I lay my head on his chest and he stroked my hair. He told me he loved me somewhere about ten times. When my mother arrived that's where she found us. My head already hurt and I was given tylenol and water. He stayed for a bit then drove himself home, leaving me in the hands of my mother.
Pause.
Everything is not ok. But everything is fine enough I suppose. Luckily I've escaped the threat of institutionalization by the sheer luck that it was the alcohol that made me manic. I'm not to drink again. I don't think I want to. All I can really say about the whole thing is I'm lucky. I'm lucky that D is in my life and is taking care of me. I found this picture the other day that is sitting now on my desk,waiting to be framed once more, of he and I the first night we met. Its the cutest thing, he's got an arm slung around my back and looking pretty smug at having me so close, and I've got a cig in one hand and the other arm around his neck I'm smiling so big you'd think my face was gonna break. I look at this picture, at these two people and I just think...
"The two of you have no idea what you're getting yourselves into."
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