Surrender

I stole this photo from Biker Body Pillow’s shop’s Instagram. I needed it.
If you are ever in Toronto go to Kensington market, Reactive Ink. Tell the boys I say hi.

I miss my people back home. I am not feeling very brave.

Tennessee Whisky came on last night and I almost messaged the Giant. I wasn’t drunk enough to figure out what to say, so I left it alone.

Sober nights make way for better mornings and less regrets.

Woke up a little earlier than I would have preferred but I almost got my 8 hours.

I see a nap in my future. But I am awake now, and writing. That’s something.

Surrender Dorothy.

My wise woman Monika posted this…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surrender is better
Giving up denotes a lack of faith
Surrender says…ok. I see what is…so what’s next.

https://www.facebook.com/MonikaCarlessAuthor/

I hit rock bottom with my coccyx night before last. As best as I can piece together I poured 6 shots of whiskey on 2 english muffins before 9. We were upstairs talking and my eyes leaked. Haven’t heard much from him since. We will circle back around to that, just give it a minute.

The night went downhill from there, and I was already pretty fucking low.

I have my period too, which is not an excuse but…pelvic sorcery and a lot of pain, both physical and emotional. I was due for a breach.

Always calm or breaching.

I managed somehow to be much less drunk in the middle, then blacked out around 2:30am.
No idea how I got home.
It seems I tangled with a now broken kitchen chair and we both lost. I am now the not so proud owner of a very bruised tailbone. I woke up at 8 the next morning, still drunk, looking like a pinball on tilt trying to get to the bathroom, dry heaving from the booze and the pain in my ass.

I am a stripper with a broken butt. The irony is not lost.

The Weeknd was playing on a loop in my head “I might not make it, this time I might not make it.”

I realized I haven’t been that drunk since 2006, I almost died that night.

But I made it then and I made it now. Got right terrified at the beginning of last night. Then a couple strippers and co-workers rallied around me, kept me off stage and at work. Made a bit of money and surrendered to what is. Life is just gonna hurt for the next while. Bruises heal eventually, hearts too.

I’d just finished healing from the last stupid thing I did to myself. Now this.

I seem to be stuck in a loop of ‘if I can just get through this ____ everything will be okay.’ Then the next ____ happens and I am back at zero.

My Facebook statuses were enough to scare my mom. She checked in on me and I cried a bit as I told her the truth, but it meant a lot to me to be noticed, even if it was me falling apart that got the attention. Some things never change. Forced me to problem solve. This is what is happening and this is what I am going to do about it.

Guru chimed in too. Told me not to fight or run, just freeze and ferfucksakes stop drinking for 2 weeks.

On it.

But darling, if you could see the size of the blessing coming to you, you would understand the magnitude of the battle you are fighting.

I’ve fallen apart before, and once the shattering is complete I rebuild with the broken bits and make something better.

I was scraping my knees along rock bottom, climbed out a bit when the boy held my hand, and when he let go, I fell, hard.

It’s not his fault. I should know better than to put any amount of my happiness in the hands of others, they drop it every time. From what I can recall of our conversation, I think he thinks I want more than he can give. Same song, different mouth.

I want nothing. Just sex. Why is this hard?

He is hard every time he gets near me, I know this.

And so what if I cried a bit? I am beyond frustrated and I am human. I just did a big, huge, terrifying thing. I am allowed to break.

I am Dorothy. I am in Oz. A place where the snow flies sideways. Good witches, bad witches, flying monkeys and a man hiding behind a curtain.

And at some point I will realize I had the power all along.

There’s no place like home.

I’m home.