jinglefer

[jinglefer]

got results for my liver lab results back.

It has been six months of almost nonstop drinking, gradually getting worse. I’m not sure what the cap off of poor liver health is for naltrexone but it looks like I am far off from it.

I have been certainly doing worse physically for my addiction but the anxiety I have had over my liver and the medical side of things (particularly with my general lifestyle/other vices/medical trauma) made this seem like… I don’t know, really terrible. And sure it’s not great, but at least my liver isn’t fucked. How about that? I’m no doctor.

Now grappling with the fact that I probably really need to get sober soon, I feel I can say that for me, alcohol is a worse addiction than nicotine. It can depend on what standards etc. sure whatever but really, nicotine was. Hard. Very hard. to quit. But I figured it out. I don’t want to think I have ‘beaten’ it because I know myself and I know there could very well come a day where I start the whole process over again, where it possibly gets worse…

With nicotine I could remember the cycles and after so many iterations, learn from them. Trial and error. Weed too, sure, a less harmful drug in my life though. My alcoholism has frightened me so intensely at various points though particularly for it’s amnesiac qualities. The way I never feel like I have the full picture of what’s going on eith my drinking, the motivations, the action cycles, the core beliefs… it all just muddles up.

In the pits, my alcoholism has served the purpose of allowing me to look at the ugliest, most bizarre, primal and painful parts of myself. And play with them freely for a brief period of time. Of course, the flip side is that it takes away any real ability to meaningfully process those parts of myself outside of a drinking binge. I’m left just with the horrors of the world that I started with, trying to escape, now further weighed down by the horrors I have dug out of my own self. Worse yet, again, I forget. I don’t think I posted it but I wrote something about a drug I started to try for cravings, and it was one that gave me insane brain fog and memory issues years ago for different reasons. It did the same thing this time around, but I noticed a much stronger element of increased self-destruction, loss of judgement, memory, time, and the overall havoc that wreaks on your mental health. Basically, what alcohol has already been doing to me. This time though, it was doubled by something else entirely. I’ve stopped taking it, and I wish I hadn’t ever started, though I know it has motivated me in some ways to deal with my drinking. Not anything radical, but still noteworthy. I am a masochist in very specific ways, after all.

[jinglefer]

fuccckkkk my chungus life.

had a really bad night. I’m honestly feeling really paranoid so I don’t want to say too much about it. The downside of an online blog. I’ve already probably said too much anyways. At least with posting it publicly I’m more discerning than I would be with the supposed ‘privacy’ of other online/digital journals. Which would still be stealing my data anyways. I’m just too lazy and disorganized to keep a paper journal. Regularly. I think I need to start doing it again though.

I haven’t really written an honest journal entry or made like. a good reflective voice note or anything for months. It feels like months. Certainly weeks. It’s felt like not a priority but now I think I need to do it for my survival. As I have in the past.

Been having really weird dreams. Vivid. There was a period of time where I wasn’t but they’re coming back now. I’m on a new med for alcohol cravings, starts with a T. Makes me feel fucking stupid. I was on it as a teen and nearly crashed my car, so needless to say I wasn’t on it very long. That was for something else though, at this point I’m just gonna try to tough the brain fog out because I just want something to work.

It sort of does, too. Makes me more sensitive to booze. I haven’t been on it long, but I also feel like it calms me down a bit. Obviously with the brain fog I’m just more sluggish overall, but given how I felt mearly manic before… I don’t know. I’m scared it’s just not worth it right now and I’m fucked. Also maybe that it’s impacting my judgement/decision making abilities. Obviously alcohol does that too, but with and without it I feel like I’m just… like I said, stupid.

I guess thats all I can manage to write rn. I just feel defeated.

[jinglefer]

time just keeps passing.

It doesn’t heal all wounds, but it sure does soothe some of them. I have my housing stuff for this next year figured out, which is an incredible sigh of relief. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster lately with everything being up in the air. But I know where I’m going. sort of. Literally, certainly, metaphorically… maybe.

I have a lot of ideas about who I could be. I don’t know who I want to be, maybe a few ideas there. Kinder is one of them. It’s easier to be nice when I’m drunk. I’m more open, I say things that I can’t comprehend how I’d know to say them. Yeah, that’s why addiction is a thing. sort of. But it has lead to me realizing how good it feels to effortlessly reach out to people and to receive in return. Living in the city plenty of people have shut me down or been rude or weird if I say something to them. At best, though still sad, they ignore me. Which is something I myself have started doing often when I think someone might be trying to talk to me.

It’s all for good reason, though. At least understandable. I’ve had many strangers try to fuck with me, steal my shit, say rude and terrible things, generally waste my time or be aggressive/violent. I’m sure the people who are rude to me may have had similar experiences. Maybe not, how could anyone tell though? I try to feel empathy. But nothing comes close to simply having a pleasant, anxiety-free casual connection with another person. On the bus, the street, in a store, my building. It reminds me that I’m real and not everyone in the entire workd hates me even if they don’t know me and I always have to be on guard.

Not always sunshine and rainbows though. Sure. I know that. I just don’t want to lose the ability to recognize and appreciate when it is.

[jinglefer]

i made this as a diary but something i do in my personal notes/diaries is. An assessment of myself because I always forget how I change as a person until I realize I no longer recognize the me from two years ago

no name or pronouns dont refer to me.

early 20 something american

autistic nonbinary real fake background character

probably wont be depressed forever just going thru a mood rn

luddite hermit

[jinglefer]

things definitely got a little silly thereeeeee for a moment

I called a friend. kept going to work. cried in therapy. biked drunk. a lot. i don’t want to say I’m okay now because I most certainly am not but. The scariest hardest part was the immediate aftermath. I can only hope.

I have been avoiding and numbing and dissociating a lot but. I also have some tools when I can remember how to use them.

I firmly believe drugs are a very reasonable thing to do. Not in a medical sense, because I’m clearly not a fucking doctor but in the sense that people who use drugs are not stupid or ignorant or even always self destructive in nature for doing so. Duhhh but like… I have been feeling shame for my addictions as long as I’ve had any of them. It comes and goes with certain things. I quit nicotine, which was great and I’m still determined to never think about it again. I feel capable of living with never getting nic high again. Alcohol and weed though… There are plenty of other things I like but throughout the availability, efficiency and effects, alcohol is the most anxiety inducing for me.

It has been extraordinarily helpful in making me care less about my pain. Physical and emotional. Both are harmful in the long run, though sober me can’t function, which I could argue is more harmful…. imminently. The flipside of course, as is very well known, that alcohol makes you do wild shit. Things you regret, risks you normally wouldn’t take. And when I feel like god because nothing matters to me and I’ll fight anyone or do anything… if something actually does bother the me held back by drunkeness I can’t stop it. Have a harder time processing it after the fact, and the memory loss certainly doesn’t help.

I think the extreme depression I fell into made the risk-taking a bit less of a problem. That, and I ran out of my estradiol cream and have had an infection AND shaved/plucked weeks ago and pick my skin so I still have a few bumps so… At least sexual risk taking has been pretty dulled. I haven’t felt good about my body at all. Could add an addendum there but I don’t need to share everything.

I���m just broke as fuck but alcohol is too damn expensive.

[jinglefer]

well fuck all that beautiful self introspection.

Just broke up with. My ex? I suppose. He said it didn’t have to be a permanent thing. Neither of us wanted to. I think we both want to try to fix things, still, but all the same. Something has just snapped and I am lowkey losing my shit.

The fact that I’m making a vent post prickles at me like you wouldn’t believe because the shame and disgust I feel at using the internet as an emotional outlet comes from a history of doing just that. That this is all I have. I have one friend who you’d think I could call about this sort of thing, but I don’t want her to see me like this. I never have. My own insecurities yet again isolating me entirely.

I am being dramatic. Sure. It isn’t that bad. It isn’t that dire. The alcohol sure does help dull out all the catastrophizing, but I know it will come back in waves. The same fears I was feeling long before this happened will continue. The fear I felt just before he said it. The fact that I felt it too, but was too terrified of the prospect to ever breathe life into it. And in a sense, a gratitude. That he was the one to say something. It almost confirms something in a way, a sick, twisted good sort of way. Love. still. I still love him and that’s what makes me want to die more than anything, just as I still love everyone who’s ever hurt me. I think he’s helped me more than we both immediately realize though, in doing this.

I also feel shame for being so… mentally ill? My therapist didn’t like how I used that to refer to myself and I could see why, but it feels the way it feels. I feel hysterical, crazy. I hate myself for it but I want to own it. There is some point to it, after all. But it’s so embarrassing to be this way. It is horrifyingly cringey to respond to difficulties with ‘this must mean life is not worth living and everyone hates me and I will never be a functional human being worthy of love or respect.’

There is something in all of this. I am ok, I will be ok. Vulnerable, risk prone, unstable, unwell. yes. all of the above. I feel like my brain is finally shutting down and I’m ready to run naked in the streets and od on fety. but i know i wont. I will look back at all of this. and hopefully ill ditch the fucking shame at some point and just accept this terrible rollercoaster im on.

[jinglefer]

had a weird day. I knew it was going to be an off day (i choose my work schedule to an extent. It is a rare privilege but not without it’s downfalls) but I was so caught up in yesterday I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. Three people invited me to hang out and I felt terrible about it all but ended up seeing none of them. I biked around, bought some booze and stayed outside until it was too cold to so so.

It was what I needed, but I’ve been so detached lately I fear any time people reach out to me or try to see how I’m really doing. In that way I suppose I’m in a state of denial. But something else, too. I’ve always felt my odd destructive behaviours are all, though often misguided and as said destructive, from the instinctual me.

I hate listening to my instincts, and have told myself countless times that I am not to be trusted. I don’t know that it’s really helped though. I try to listen more these days. It’s very hard to lose the judgement and trust myself, and the worse it is the harder it is to listen. but I’m trying.

[jinglefer]

Ernst Haeckel - Chaetopoda - 1904

[jinglefer]

[jinglefer]

i just finished making several stickers. I’ve already made a bunch. I’m terrible at spraypainting and anxious enough putting up stickers but I feel the need to force myself on the world if it seems to have no permanent place for me. My stickers are definitely not permanent or even long lasting, but I need to keep looking for signs of life. I want to have any sort of say over reality.

a long while ago when i used to take the train, when I first moved to this city, I would sit in the bike rack. I commuted home very late at that point and despite the various unpredictable sorts crawling the metro during evening hours, just being weird and pathetic enough seemed to be a safeguard of sorts for me. I am small, so I fit well in the vertical space. I moved whenever someone with a bike boarded, but it was an infrequent occurence… and I had a complex about sitting on public transit seats that I very much don’t have anymore. I don’t take the train anymore either, though.

I’d gotten twenty or so stickers from some online offer for a few bucks. They were pretty nice, not the fancy smooth kind, but a sturdy enough plastic sticker to remain for a few rides unnoticed in the crannies of the bike rack that I always checked.

I never managed to slap all 20, and I’m certain whatever I put up is gone now. The urge has stuck with me though, to see myself as long as I can wherever I am. It’s aimless as can be but I find it comforting.

[jinglefer]

i made this blog to drunk post. but also to sincere post. there is a constant gnawing inside of me, at the best of times a gentle reminder and at anything less, a terrible summons to a destiny I feel tied to. I’m afraid of dying, of pain, of wasting my time. All of the endings and consequences that repulse me (as repulsing tends to do) move me around, too convincing in their apparent truths to the point that I am obsessed with them.