“Empty”

She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing
And I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters

Walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall and brown
And still it’s hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted back
of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field collecting rain

Will I always feel this way ‒
So empty, so estranged?

And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?

Well, I looked my demons in the eyes
laid bare my chest, said “Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me.”
There’s a lot of things that can kill a man
There’s a lot of ways to die
Yes, and some already dead that walk beside me
There’s a lot of things I don’t understand
Why so many people lie
Well, it’s the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?

Ray Lamantagne

I have two states of being: 1. full steam ahead and 2. done.  There is nothing in between.  I seem to keep going until I’ve exhausted myself and then I have to build up my energy again by being almost completely lethargic.  This lethargy then brings me full circle to depression and then it starts all over again.  I’m noticing lately that the full steam ahead is taking a lot more effort and is happening less frequently than in the past. I never thought that I was a person who was addicted to anything.  I’ve always been able to quit things cold turkey.  I tried smoking cigarettes in college and it didn’t take.  What I’m realizing now is that my addiction isn’t related to one thing, it’s whatever I use to help me escape from myself.  I am addicted to staying busy and whatever vice at the moment takes me away from this emptiness.

From January 2014-May 2014 it was alcohol. I had a love affair with red red wine, so much in fact that I was afraid I was becoming an alcoholic.  I’ve been sober since May, with maybe 3 beers or ciders total since then to now.  It was almost magical how that liquid created a courageous, calmer, funnier Katie.  I used this liquid courage in almost every social event to ending up drinking by myself because I wanted an escape from myself. I also used to erase the awfulness of my day or to banish a very difficult therapy session.  I had forgotten that just as fast as the wine made me more fun to be around, it also unleashed dark brooding sad Katie.  It was a toss-up to which guest would make an appearance at my house when I would be 3/4 of the way finished with my Argentinian Malbec.   After I made an asshole appearance one evening at my house, my wife kindly asked me if I would consider not drinking for a while.  It’s funny how it was her request that turned me around, not the fact that drinking to excess and taking xanax on a nightly basis could kill me.  My attitude was que sera, sera.

Since my breakup with red wine, I have not really missed alcohol except over Thanksgiving and today.  I have used alcohol as a coping tool to get through the holidays as long as it was legal for me to drink (and maybe a few years before that too).  This is the first holiday season that I have not had my liquid courage.  It’s been pretty difficult.  Someone asked me, “why I don’t just drink one glass to take the edge off?”  It’s not the alcohol that I’m afraid of.  I’m afraid of that feeling as much as I crave the escape.  I’d rather feel empty and aware of the world around me and the feelings that come with that awareness.  I know that with the first taste of that escape, I might never come back.

The absence of the possibility of escape is weighing on my mind today because I’m also a foodie.  I love flavors and smells.  I love it when I find a unique taste combination and get to share it with my wife.  Today it’s crossed my mind that maybe I just traded alcohol for food.  The healthier I get the harder it’s been to dissociate and I think I’ve been grabbing onto whatever I can.

• Bill Cosby is a rapist? where the hell is the chocolate?!
• Some dude has decided that Ferguson was caused because of feminism…I’ll take chocolate covered bacon while reading that article.
• Mississippi beats Georgia in marriage equality…time to go to Taqueria del Sol for a veggie taco add slaw and a fried chicken taco.  Add an order of guac and chips.
• My favorite show now has a character that was raped as a child and thinks it’s her fault….I want a milk shake and I don’t care that it’s served with a side of Christian hate (Chik-fil-a will only do at a time like this).

My Gastroenterologist told me today that it sounds like I am having some severe symptoms of reflux and I have to go back on a bland diet and start taking my prescription twice a day.  I also was told that if I lost 10-15lbs I might have fewer symptoms.  Not like I haven’t been trying to lose weight since I could stand tall enough to look in a mirror.  I’ve been in a funk since I received this news.  All I’ve wanted to eat today are things that contain acid. I told my wife that my only two vices that were left were food and shopping.  I can’t really afford either right now and it seems pretty dismal (first world problems, I know).

Maybe this is my body’s way of telling me that I need to really deal with my shit.  Obviously making myself crazy busy, obsessing about the problems of our country, drinking, and now food have slowly created different health problems when I’m using them to hide this mess of jumbled feelings and hidden memories that stay pushed down inside me.   I guess this holiday season I get to deal with my demons.