day 106: florida

I am a hot mess and this state isn’t helping.  Last night I couldn’t sleep as finances, resentments, and envy wreaked havoc on my brain.  As the restlessness reached my limbs and the hours rolled past midnight I found myself afraid of making noise so as not to wake the hotel guests in the room next to mine. Assuming that the bumps on the walls were them telling me to be quiet.  And knowing how crazy that was in between the moments of shame.

I am traveling again today.  This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place in ten days. Sixty whole hours. But I’m itching to leave. Check out, drive, check in this morning. Check out, drive, check in tomorrow morning.  Check out, fly, taxi on Wednesday. Then I’ll take a deep breath in LA, one last look around, and promise myself I’ll only return to that apartment when it’s time to pack up my things and leave Los Angeles for good. Then taxi, fly, and hopefully a full month in the same fucking zip code.

I’m agitated.  I’m frustrated.  I’m judging everyone and everything, and the lack of compassion makes the chambers in my head ragged and sharp.  I’m having to check myself in-between spikes of hatred, remind myself that if I’m in someone else’s business, who is in mine? I’m angry at myself for feeling this way, confused as to why this is happening, and sad when it sinks in that this is who I was almost every day during the last year of my drinking.

I’m tired.  I’m lonely. I’m scared of the future and terrified of making mistakes. I keep finding excuses to avoid making the decisions I need to. I think they call this being debilitated. I’m hungry for peace and quiet. I’m starving to be still. And to be safe.

I would’ve been too hungover to recognize or care about any of this a year ago. I would’ve been drinking screwdrivers and eating english muffins at a bar down by the beach. I would’ve only been worried about my nausea, whether I had to cancel any plans today, and if I could find a liquor store and be back at the hotel in time before room service started vacuuming the floors. I’m in this now, though, and it’s dumb. It’s not as dumb as drinking, I get that. But it reminds me of why I did.