sunshowerletters

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Yay me.. I guess.

I'm 29 days sober. Tomorrow will be 30 days. That's the longest I've gone since like 4 years ago. It's funny, I have conflicting emotions. I feel liek I should be happy, jumping for joy. And, trust is, it feels as though my time drink was ages ago. Like a long time ago. It's only been 4 weeks. The last time I drank was the last day of the cruise. Interestingly enough, I was alone on that last day. Liek drunk me wanted to hold onto that cruise, that's what I told myself on the surface. But really, I know that I would give sobriety a serious shot when I came back home. So really, I didn't want to let go of alcohol. I spent my time, with several drinks in my hand. Meeting people, then walking away from them with no good bye. Then at one point, I was at the Irish pub on the ship just listening to live guitar. There was this old fart at the other end of the bar. He was practically licking his lips as he saw a girl dances with her friends to the music. I felt vulnerable for a second. I never knew how I made it back to the room. What I do remember is taking the last steps to the room, a ship worker helping me get there and asking if it was my room. I nodded yes and pulled out my card key. I really struggled in trying to get it to touch the key pad. Then I walked into the room and my husband fucked me. He fucked me knowing there was no a very little part of my brain that was actually present. He did it anyway. I resent him for that.

I don't know what to do about all the feeling have towards my time with alcohol, the things I did, didn't do, and all that happened because of it. I guess i was just thankful that the affect of alcohol on me has been more and more saddening over since. I've drank 3 times since then. The last time, i was alone when I woke up, I have a crazy amount of anxiety and was so certain that drinking alone is truly the worst form of drinking. I hard talked myself into confirming that even with just one sip, I will do anything to get the second, and third, and fourth, and eighth.

Now, I don't know how I feel. I feel so certain that it's a drug that ruins my life, that ruins who I am at my core. But I mourn it still, feeling like I am smaller, less that, and weak for having the inability to control this substance once it's in my body. I feel stupid, immature, like a kid almost. I guess it does explain how I feel inside, anything that means I silence the tormenting voicing in my head. So I try to have compassion for myself. But still, it means I sit here sober, hating my brain, finding it hard to love the true me. Praying that one day I'll accept my raw self as much as my loved ones do.

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Spring. Life. New. Beginning. Color. Wind. Fresh. Happy. Sun. Light.

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To heal a wound, you gotta stop touching it.

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cleo's garden

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My mind is a prison

June 2, 2025

What's up with this feeling I have that I don't even want to be in my own house. It fucks me up. Like I really don't want to be here but also I have no where else to go. If I leave the house, I have no where to go. I don't want to go to my parents, I have an engaged sister now, I don't want to bring her down with me. Magali needs me a lot. She's alone a lot. I don't have friends. I hate how much i seek validation and self assurance and self worth in my work. I hate that! It's mental torture and this is why I end up drinking. I am always so afraid that I'll make a wrong move and everything will change because of something I've done and a lot of the time it's not the case but fuck, stop messing with me. I'm not a crook! I'm just a person! I want love, I want laughter, I want unity, I mean no harm so stop telling me that I suck and that it's all about to go down hill and that it's all my fault please. Please, mercy.

I am honest. I am kind. I am inclusive. I am beautiful. I have a good heart.

I want to paint in a way where it rids me of my stress. There is a stressed part of my brain that feels I have to go about painting in a particular way to accomplish that. There's another part of my brain, a really small part, where I just know in my gut that no matter what, picking up a paintbrush will make me feel lighter regardless of the end product.

An old friend texted me today. It makes me feel seen when he does. I know I'll reply one day. I'm just scared to run my fingers over the scars of past pain. God I'm lonely. Please help. Please give me comfort. I don't want to drink. I don't want to feel deprived of contentment, but I am. Help. Hug me please.

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i hate themed parties

I hate themed parties. Does anyone else hate themed parties? It's just like like okay, you are inviting me to your gathering shebang and I want to go and see you and celebrate this thing that's going on, whether its a birthday, anniversary, milestone, or whatever. But fuck, why are you adding things to my to do list? I don' want to go out shopping for a weird ass outfit (plus a couple of accessories most of the time) and pay around a hundred dollars for something I'll likely never where again so I'm "in theme". It's more work, more to-do's more stress. Just fucking let me wear cut off shorts with a T-shirt and order pizza like everybody else you inconsiderate, basic ass fuck.

Great gatsby? See ya.

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anthropologie

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btw i figured it all out and life is about laughing with your friends & listening to your fave songs. you’re welcome

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“Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do.”

— Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

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yesssss

2009

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♡Only In My Dreams♡