I haven’t posted in so long I’m not sure where to begin.
Man, have I done some crying these past few days. And I’ve been misbehaving in general, which I’m compelled to fess up to.
Some frat boy customer and I exchanged pharmaceutical commerce the other night and I wanted to save the Adderrall he gave me for Klonopin to ease my writer’s block. However, last night, I fell asleep at work for the first time ever, felt like a complete nod-off, burn-out, heroin junkie, and squandered by stimulant stash in the bathroom stall. I had to recruit another girl to crush it with my debit card because I’m that amateur at pill abuse.
It honestly worked like a charm, because I was in a zombie state, more worried about when I could go home than hustling, and I ended up being just the right intenstity level of social and motivated, making the most of anyone working last night.
A new girl I get along with and I are fans of tag-teaming guys, so after my VIP customer left, I made my way over to the girl and her customer. And whoah fucking, Nelly! Even 15mg Adderrall and a Red Bull deep, these guys had me out-hypered times a thousand. I found the customer draining to talk to, but the girl was also bouncing off the walls way more than usual and you couldn’t pay either of them to actually complete a thought or finish a sentence.
Lo and behold, this girl is a bipolar mess, too and I ended up having to play babysitter and put her crying ass in a cab whose driver decided to have some empathy. I don’t broadcast my baggage to the managers, but I tend to be honest about my issues with the other girls, because why else would a top 50 college honors grad be stripping as her main source of income? We went out after work and she kept bum-rushing the other bar customers. Everyone was chill, but I had to apologize for her and had one guy say he was embarrassed for her. As was I, and I saw my own behavior from past states of flux in her last night. For a girl who’d had almost a dozen drinks, she sure wasn’t feeling the sedative effect alcohol can have. I often joke that she’s going to be convicted of “manslaughter when I die of alcohol poisoning” because she constantly shoves extra drinks at me.
Which I take. I have not been on the wagon in ages and I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not going to insult your intelligence by perpetuating some kind of self-righteous “in recovery” persona on here. I got sober for a while last year and truly felt, at the time, it would be permanent. Oh well. My original intentions in coming to New Orleans were a bit on the Leaving Las Vegas side, but I’m not that bad off anymore. In fact, the Holiday season was so rough on me last year, I had an impossible time sleeping while maintaining sobreity. Any other drunk knows that “passing out” is often a last resort sleep-aid. Or Seroquel, if you like the idea of never taking a shit again in your life.
The reason I mention this misbehavior is that it loves company. One of my two best friends has gone off the wagon as well and we commisserate by phone frequently. We both have this morbid obsession with self-destruction coupled with a fear of death. I spent hours crying about the victims in Connecticut this weekend, because life is precious and those kids got robbed of so many years. However, I have no particular desire to live until I’m 80+. There are unfinished goals I wish to meet in my lifetime, but if I could magically know how I’ll die know, I’d bet on cancer, cirrhosis or a heart attack by 60. And I’m more or less cool with that.
My fellow alcoholic best friend and I speak freely about not respecting our own bodies, but we also spent ages, the other day, lamenting over an incident that involved other people disrespecting human life. Our High School reunion just passed (I went, she didn’t) and our former class president, a friend of mine who most of my other friends don’t like, did something very insulting. A girl who had a serious form of cancer several years back showed up and another girl literally looked at her like she’d seen a ghost, somehow thinking she was dead. My “friend” decided it was really funny to constantly repeat this ironic anecdote for cheap laughs, which, instead, resulted in my other friend leaving disgusted and several other grimaces.
To add insult to injury, this same girl kept laughing as she said, “oh yeah, who’s the girl that DIED from our grade?” We all knew about one guy who’d commmitted suicide, but she was on a mission to figure out who this anonymous, worthless dead bitch was, like it was some kind of joke. I don’t know who the hell the girl is. I tried to Google her and I don’t feel guilty, because my graduating class had over 400 students, but it turns out she hung herself at 19. The fact my alleged friend found it funny to get the scoop on her gives me a seriously bad taste in my mouth. No wonder nearly all my other friends dislike her strongly.
So while I lack the balls to take my own life, I know firsthand about slow suicide. I used to blog about it but got paranoid and removed some of my more meaty posts. I want to own up to my own misdeeds, but I can never, in a million years, imagine doing something like the Connecticut shooter. I’ve been under the illusion of wanting to die a few times, but I’d never drag others down with me. I have zero maternal insinct, but the moment I saw the picture of the victim with a NY Giants tattoo, the waterworks were running non-stop for hours.
As a head case, I do want mental health to be a part of the cdonversation in the wake of this tragedy, But the media talking heads don’t know what the fuck they’re saying. When they attributed video games, I just rolled my eyes and thought “have we made NO progress in the way of getting in these shooters’ heads since Columbine?” I agree with others who have pointed out sane people can, unfortunately, commit these crimes. But I consider anyone who is suicidal to be, at least temporarily, outside of sane. You don’t necessarilly have to be a clinically depressed person taking Zoloft every day to reach a suicidal state of mind. I just wish he had had the good sense to commit himself; that doesn’t always result in the diagnosis of a mental health disorder, but we all have our ups and downs, and a solid detox, medication regimen and removal from society and access to weapons can really do one good for a while. Considering my recent sexual behavior, drinking and more, I can’t say I won’t be going sometime! For now, at least, the fact my family is under the misguided impression I’m sober means I’ll have a nice relaxing detox over my upcoming Christmas break. Lies can be beneficial to onself sometimes.