Buzzed

I've been binge drinking again tonight, something I promised my pdoc I wouldn't do once I was released from the hospital....oops, sorry Mr. T. Am I drunk? Not really. Buzzed is the operative word of the night. Even after consuming 2 beers and an entire bottle of wine, I'm merely buzzed, not falling down, passing out, drunk. I almost feel like I needed to drink to offset the mania that consumed me today.

In about 45 minutes this afternoon, I managed to re-arrange all of mine and my daughter's shoes (we're talking over 100 pairs), putting some in storage boxes I'd purchased at The Container Store today AND, I organize my desk with wire "In" boxes I got at the same store. I feel like I can actually use my computer without feeling closed in on all sides by junk that hasn't been filed in its appropriate spot.

Earlier today, and even yesterday, I was listening to a song called "Dear Father" by the band Sum 41. It's a song about never knowing your father, that he's a complete stranger, "a name without a face". I keep wondering if my daughter would have been better off not knowing her father at all, instead of knowing him to be a complete disappointment.

At times it feels like I made a major error in judgment by marrying her father. For even speaking up and telling him that I was pregnant with his child. What would life be like right now had I not done that? Would she be even happier? Would I? So many questions are left to wonder about, questions that have no answers.

When I'm not wondering about the status of her "father", I'm left wondering if I'm actually an alcoholic, something I think I'd deny to the end of my life. I understand that I'm a binge drinker but it doesn't, and never has, interfered with my life. My ability to function in my job, when I was well enough to hold one. Didn't interfere with my relationships with family or friends.

Only once has someone mentioned anything about my drinking and that was my daughter just before I went into the hospital. She knew how much I was drinking and questioned whether that was a healthy coping skill. The old people never said anything, though they had to have noticed all the bottles in the recycling bin.

My thoughts are still swirling, I think more from the meds than the alcohol, so I'm just gonna go to bed.