Without stopping. I hadn't had one of those without stopping nights in awhile. The one that the motion propels you through with the help of alcohol and banter and the next place until you wake up the next morning to your head feeling as if it might explode. You write a letter: dear head, please don't fall apart. Not now. Love, me.
See I used to have without stopping nights all the time. In my younger years- the debut of adulthood and experimentation- I wonder if I mix these three alcohols will I hug the toilet later. Oh most likely I will. A weak stomach. I do. Have. Later in my working years. When I had cash to burn. Burn and a job I didn't like. In a group of friends. Who all seemed to follow suit. Or when I was depressed about what I wanted. My only solace was the pouring down of the medicine ordered by me. It felt so comfortable. It felt like home. For it was.
Not everyone has a bones such as mine. These alcoholic bones originally believed to be from my descents- my grandfathers or great on both my irish sides. No closer in my body these bones made a tight fit around the joints. Closer to me. Around the veins and organs and the pulsing in and out. Not just my grandfathers, and maybe a few cousins, and maybe a few aunts or uncles but the closest you could get. My parents. Both. Of. Them. No one told me. To watch out because of my parents. No watch out because of those far away folks, they said. No one wants to say. Addiction you have inherited and dysfunction now not distant relative but your sibling. Living in your home. No one says it. For denial is the way you go on in the island of my family. So it has been. Until. One day you realize. These bones. These ways. Are part genetic. But part learned. And feel like home. It is scary to admit aloud in someones eyes but dysfunction is my friend and alcohol could be the only home you've known. Comforting things not so comforting.
But it changed for me. Not in meetings. Not in saying aloud my name is kate and I might be alcoholic. Hi, Kate did not reverberate against my ears. Not in my dad checking me into rehab and me saying no, no, no. No intervention. No I walked the line the best I could. Until I had to slow it down. I wasn't figuring myself out anymore. Binge drinking became less cool. And so did the throwing up. And wasted days. I was running away from who I was. What was too hard to feel. So now I don't drink like I once did. I go out regularly and might have a beer or two. It might be because I am happier. It might be because I thought about it. It might be I never wanted to be a drunk. Destroyed and broken.
But as I wake up in this brightest room in all of the mission. My head ripping apart and my fear of my stomach release. I can't help but think without stopping nights are still part of me. Even if they don't happen as they once did. Even though this hadn't happened in almost a year. I will always have these nights a piece of me that wants to keep going and not caring. Until the am. In the brightness of this new day. And I realize I can dabble in the without stopping nights. But I am not built for them as I once was. I turn over and will my head to stay in one piece and roll into an embrace. My head will stay in one piece. I got to keep my heart in one too.
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