Probably some of the most famous last words ever uttered. And a phrase I've uttered three times in a matter of months. The first was on September 29, after getting smashed the night before when my boyfriend of a year and a half texted me he was breaking up with me (after essentially professing his love less than 3 weeks prior.) A text. Seriously. So of course the only solution was to drink, drink more, and keep drinking - because that way I could pretend it never happened. Until reality hit the next morning. The only thing worse than feeling heartbroken is feeling heartbroken with a really awful headache.
So I quit drinking. Not that I was a big drinker to begin with. While I have been drunk a handful of times, I don't like feeling out of control. And since I actually enjoy a nice glass of wine or a smooth whiskey, I'd rather sip and savor the flavors. But this time I had sunk to an all time low. So I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and moved on with my head held high. No more alcohol.
That was until one month later, when in a moment of weakness on my birthday I googled his name and ultimately discovered he had been cheating the entire time. Our relationship - the longest I've ever been in and one I gave my entire heart and soul to - was nothing more than a heap of lies. Cue the popping of corks, and low number two.
Fine fine fine. I have to get my act together, I told myself. I knew I couldn't keep this up. And so, once again, and *for real* this time, no more alcohol.
Flash forward to yesterday, 5 weeks and 6 days since my world came crashing down. I had been feeling okay since the Golden Girls epiphany and was out to brunch with some girls at a fine dining establishment in SF. I knew bottomless mimosas would be tempting, but I was determined to stick with my tea. But... what's the harm of one? Unfortunately it was bottomless or nothing. So I figured I'd sip, be careful, and just relax for a bit. I was tired of not enjoying my life and I wanted to have a little fun.
The funny thing about bottomless mimosas is they are indeed bottomless. My glass was never empty. It was magic. Alas, I quickly lost track of how much I had had. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but here's the quick synopsis, or so I'm told:
We had moved from our table to the bar, and I discovered my jacket was missing. Someone stole my jacket. Yes it's just a jacket. And yes it can be replaced. But it was MY JACKET. And SOMEONE STOLE IT. It was just enough to push me over the edge I had been teetering on. Here I was in a city I used to love, now hated, hated being there, had to go out of my way to avoid his neighborhood and my neighborhood and the streets we used to walk down together and the places we used to frequent, I was anxious all the time, I was homeless, I was jobless, he was with someone else, I was going to be alone for all the holidays that never had meaning until him, and someone stole my jacket. I lost my sh*t.
I started sobbing uncontrollably. The girls I was with only knew me as an acquaintance, they weren't close friends. I had never broken down in front of anyone before, let alone a room full of strangers. I was that girl. And the entire restaurant saw it.
Moral of the story: I needed to hit that low. I thought I had hit rock bottom before, but this was a different place altogether. I loved this man (real or imagined) with all my heart. Truly loved him. And it's okay to grieve. Yes the Golden Girls taught me I have a lot going for me. And yes I had decided I couldn't let a man continue to have such control over my emotions, especially one that never really cared about me the way I wanted him to. But this is a journey, albeit a difficult one, that I must take.
I'll never see 95% of those people ever again. And whoever took my jacket actually returned it, as it was later handed to me from the opposite end of the bar. Maybe they felt bad. Or maybe it was an accident. Either way, there's only one way to go from here - UP.
The funny thing about bottomless mimosas is they are indeed bottomless. My glass was never empty. It was magic. Alas, I quickly lost track of how much I had had. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but here's the quick synopsis, or so I'm told:
We had moved from our table to the bar, and I discovered my jacket was missing. Someone stole my jacket. Yes it's just a jacket. And yes it can be replaced. But it was MY JACKET. And SOMEONE STOLE IT. It was just enough to push me over the edge I had been teetering on. Here I was in a city I used to love, now hated, hated being there, had to go out of my way to avoid his neighborhood and my neighborhood and the streets we used to walk down together and the places we used to frequent, I was anxious all the time, I was homeless, I was jobless, he was with someone else, I was going to be alone for all the holidays that never had meaning until him, and someone stole my jacket. I lost my sh*t.
I started sobbing uncontrollably. The girls I was with only knew me as an acquaintance, they weren't close friends. I had never broken down in front of anyone before, let alone a room full of strangers. I was that girl. And the entire restaurant saw it.
Moral of the story: I needed to hit that low. I thought I had hit rock bottom before, but this was a different place altogether. I loved this man (real or imagined) with all my heart. Truly loved him. And it's okay to grieve. Yes the Golden Girls taught me I have a lot going for me. And yes I had decided I couldn't let a man continue to have such control over my emotions, especially one that never really cared about me the way I wanted him to. But this is a journey, albeit a difficult one, that I must take.
I'll never see 95% of those people ever again. And whoever took my jacket actually returned it, as it was later handed to me from the opposite end of the bar. Maybe they felt bad. Or maybe it was an accident. Either way, there's only one way to go from here - UP.
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