I’m creating massive brown circles around my eyes with a makeup brush as per the, Youtube tutorial, and right now I look more like a heroin addict than a ‘zombie’. It’s fine. I am creative. I can make this shit look good.
I have exactly half an hour to pull this together or bail on the night completely.
I am not feeling it. Today is definitely a nope day.
Well tonight would have been the perfect night to get well and truly shit faced. White girl wasted.
Drinking to excess on halloween is a GIVEN! AND I am playing music tonight, an even better reason to sink a few tinnies and sexy dance against a radiator in the corner…
But, no. I am well and truly a sober goddess. I am queen sobriety. I am zen itself. I got my shit together people. I am a CHANGED woman.
…only right now, I am an anxiety attack. Over tired. Burnt out. The usual stomach ache from family drama and tragedy that follows me no matter how far away I live or how much I ignore my phone. If I cancel I’ll have to go into the ‘why’ of it all and I can’t do that. If I do that then I’ll have to face it as a reality myself and I have work and, life to be getting on with.
So i’ll swallow it like bile and smile and take my guitar and dress like a slutty, dead, whatever and it will be FINE!
My face is nearly done. I look dead. This is my low budget attempt at halloween but really, how hard is it? You don’t need to break the bank or even visit a shop for halloween. Trust me. Just some pale ass foundation which; let’s face it, every girl has anyway, some kohl eyeliner, dubiously red lipstick for that ‘bloody’ effect and you’re good to go. Throw on a semi slutty outfit and – VIOLA!
I reflect as I stare at my now gaunt looking face over what tonight would look like if I were to drink. The mood I am in right now…if I were to get drunk on top of that…I would be. Satan. I would be Satan.
Drunk Satan. Vile and angry and ready for a fight. Ready to disagree with anyone who got in my way. Or didn’t get in my way for that matter. I’d just wade in, and insist myself into conversations and friendship groups who didn’t want me there and just spew my inner hideousness out all over the place. Start on the taxi driver. Go home and wake my sleeping innocent boyfriend and shout at him.
Instead I zip up my Eeyore onesie up to my frilly black bra, which I allow to peek through slightly. I smear on some red lipstick and take it into the black cracks I’ve made with smokey black eyeliner. I don some tacky gold chains, large hoop ear rings and survey the look….
I am sexy, dead, urban, Eeyore. Happy Halloween.
I am late to the party. I arrive and sexy, dead, urban, Eeyore is a hit. I get nods and approval.
I sit outside with Scooby doo and dead Snow White and I smoke a stress cigarette…
I know. I KNOW! Smoking is bad. I know smoking is bad. I know I shouldn’t do it. But I’m anxious…OK! It’s been a stressful month and I just need to take the edge off. I need something to occupy my hands and mouth that isn’t a bottle of vodka. I’M NOT DRINKING. But this..this is temporary, because if I don’t have something. I’ll hit the booze. Or hit myself. Or hit someone.
It’s mainly a social anxiety thing. It’s mainly when I go out when I don’t want to but I have some sort of obligation to be there…anyway….I digress…
The night is a blur, I never peak into the same level of; ‘comfortably having a swell time’ that everyone else does but it isn’t, awful. I play my set and people smile and say I did a good job but I know when I’ve had a good gig and that was sub-par…BUT it’s, ok. I made it. I showed up. I’m sober. I am sexy, dead, urban, Eeyore. I made a damn effort.
I start to enjoy myself until I see it happen. There is a point where suddenly every single person around me is really drunk. Really drunk. They’re falling over. They’re slurring, They’re telling the same story over and over and they have no respect for personal boundaries. Drunk people spit a lot? Did you know this?
…and it’s fine. I remember this. It’s ok for them to be that way because my alcohol problem isn’t EVERYONE else’s problem, BUT it is definitely my cue to leave. Once people start crushing my body with their drunk affection it’s time for me to go.
I don’t hate them for it. I just don’t know how to respond. I can’t meet them there. Especially not tonight. Sometimes you just know when you need to leave a party.
Some girl tries to squirt a shot of whiskey into my mouth using a syringe, and when I tell her I don’t drink she squirts it into my hair….I have whisky hair. Eeyore is not happy about this…
when I eventually make it home, I wash the whiskey out of my hair. I am no longer sexy, dead, urban, Eeyore. I take all the makeup off and put on my very boring but very soft pyjamas and I smile…because at least, I wasn’t drunk Satan.
at least I wasn’t drunk Satan.
…and every night I get through, without drunk Satan, is a success.
#sobriety #noboozehughes #soberlifestyle #mentalhealth