#i dont want to start drinking coffee again it stains me teeth
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tippedarrows · 9 months ago
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fuck my stupid minecraft life /ref
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prettypinkprint · 1 year ago
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♡₊˚ đŸŠąăƒ»â‚Šâœ§
black coffee
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"how do you drink that shit?" you turned to find the youngest of gryffindoor's red-headed brothers.
"see here's what i do-" you started, clicking your tongue slightly before opening your mouth
"not like that, i'n not that dense." he scoffed as he sat next to you, this was one of the few times you had alone with him.
on the off chance neither of you could sleep you get the great hall almost an hour early, just sitting at the empty gryffindoor table. this is when you two really are together. this is when you two notice everything. his dark circles, your coffee-stained teeth, the mini-break out beneath his shaggy bangs, the scratch on your eyebrow from your care of magical creatures book. and somehow you two still seem to think nobody is more beautiful than the other.
"well i'm not sure, ronald. you seem to lack the understanding of certain very simple tasks." you smiled up at him
"oh shove off. that was one time."
"it still happened. you sure you dont want a go at it?" she asked him, offering her mug of coffee to him.
"godric, no. you don't even put half a cube of sugar in that disaster." he chuckled. "thanks for the offer though."
you shrugged "s'the least i can do when you put like eight cubes of sugar and a quart of creamer in yours. your not even drinking the coffee!"
"i do to! i just don't want to drink the monstrosity in that mug of yours." he said checking the clock, it's almost time for everyone else to get here. he's almost out of time.
"y'know, maybe i'll try it.. if, and only if! you come to hogsmead with me? just us?" he said, just above a whisper.
"you- i- alright. i'll go with you. you better not chicken out then." she laughed
"wow, you don't have to sound so unenthusiastic about going with me." he shot back between laughs
"wait hold on let me try again then.." you cleared your throat, pinching the air with your hands and letting out a deep breath "oh of course i'll go with you ronnikins!" you shouted, leaning on his shoulder, draping an arm over your forehead
"alright, alright shut up." he pushed your head off him, laughing.
(can you tell i like naming these after drinks? :3)
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jobean12-blog · 5 years ago
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Hello would you mind doing an angsty oneshot where Bucky feels like you're falling out of love with him and pulling away from his affection and love? (The rest is up to you 😊)
Once and Always
Pairing: Bucky x reader 
Word Count: 1,757
Summary: You’ve been very busy and haven’t had a lot of time to spend with Bucky. Not even enough to notice that it’s hurting him.  (Dont’ worry it ends happy!)
Author’s Note: Thanks for this request love and thank you very much for your patience. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you all for reading! ❀❀❀
Warnings: Angst, sad Bucky, but followed by fluffyness and happy Bucky :) 
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Bucky watched as you threw your head back in laughter, your whole face lighting up with the emotion and he couldn’t help but smile. It felt like he had been doing that a lot less recently. He missed you. It seemed that every time he tried to make plans you were busy. After almost a year of dating Bucky still felt like he did the first day he laid eyes on you, heart aflutter and happier than he had ever been. He was starting to wonder if you still felt the same for him.
After a few more giggles with the girls they all went their separate ways and you walked toward Bucky, wrapping your arms around his waist, “hey baby, whatcha doing?” Kissing the top of your head and pulling you in closer he’s quiet for a minute before responding, “nothing, just thinking about how much I love you.” You pull away just enough to look up into his stormy blue eyes, “I love you too, Buck, so much.”
His heart feels lighter at your words and he says, “let’s go to dinner later, we can try out that new restaurant you’ve been wanting to go to!” Squeezing him tighter and burying your face in his shirt you mumble, “I can’t baby, I promised Nat and Wanda some girl time tonight, I’m sorry.”
Bucky’s glad your face is hidden in his chest, he’s sure his own is reflecting the hurt he feels. Taking a deep breath, he replies, “no problem, doll, we can try for another night.” He doesn’t let you go, holding you like it’s for the last time, “you smell so good.” His comment takes you by surprise, “thanks babe, I always smell the same, unless I haven’t showered,” you joke, crinkling your nose.
He laughs but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and his broad shoulders seem to slump under an invisible weight. You open your mouth to question him but your phone rings. You frown as he pulls away, grabbing your phone from the counter and handing it to you, “it’s Nat.” “Thanks,” you say quietly, watching him move around the counter to grab a glass.
Nat talks excitedly on the other line, telling you all the things she bought at the store for your girl’s night. Her excitement is infectious and before you know it, you’re jabbering animatedly along with her, all thoughts of Bucky’s sad eyes leaving your mind.
After saying goodbye to Nat, you turn back toward the kitchen to tell Bucky about your plans. Except, he is no where to be found. You’re frowning again. You walk to your shared room and call out for him. No answer. You notice there is a note on the coffee table, and you reach down to read it, ‘I went for a run, doll. If I’m not back before you go, have fun tonight. Love you.’
With your brows furrowed and shoulders sagging you walk to the bathroom to shower and change before heading over to Nat’s room. You let the hot water wash away your current worries, determined to have a good time tonight.
You arrive to Nat’s a few minutes early, helping her set up the snacks and drinks. “Hey Nat, have you noticed Bucky being a bit mopey lately?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light. She stares at you for a moment before looking down and busying herself with the cheese plate. “Nat.” You know she has something to say and you want her to say it.
“Well, Steve may have mentioned the same thing to me the other day.” Her confession makes your stomach turn, “he did?” you ask, your voice coming out small and broken. She moves closer to you, throwing her arm over your shoulder, “he just asked me if everything was ok and if anything had happened between you two because Bucky seemed a bit down and he hasn’t seen you guys together as much.”
You took a deep breath, thinking over the last couple of weeks. Breaking you out of your thoughts, Nat asks, “when was the last time you two went on a date or spent some good one on one time together?” You don’t meet her eyes, a shudder running through you as you admit, “his birthday, almost 2 weeks ago.”
The tears start to form before you can get out the next sentence and Nat has you wrapped in her arms. “Hey, it’s ok y/n. It’s ok, you’ve been busy, between working with Tony and all that the team has going on it’s been a lot.” You sniffle, looking up at her with watery eyes, “I know, but it’s no excuse, I should have made time for him, he’s everything to me. I can’t believe I didn’t see how sad he was until now.”
Nat hands you a tissue, wiping away a stray tear, “so then fix it.” You hug her tight, squaring your shoulders, “ok, maybe you and Wanda can help me think of something special to do for him.” She smiles, grabbing the drinks and pulling you toward the couch, “we definitely can!”
Wanda arrives a few minutes later and you fill her in, more tears staining your cheeks, but you’re determined to make Bucky realize that you love him more than anything. Over the next few hours, you eat lots of sweets, have a few yummy drinks and devise a plan to show Bucky just how much you love him.
As you walk back to your room later that night you feel a bit lighter and not because of the three drinks you had, but because you have a solid plan in place and you can’t wait to set it into motion. You’re going to need a little help from Steve, so you text him to see if he’s up. When he quickly responds you head over to his room and fill him in. Pulling you into a hug he mumbles into your hair, “he’s going to love it.”
Crawling into bed you notice Bucky is facing the other way, his wide shoulders curled into his knees and he almost looks small. You lean your chest against his back, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and grabbing hold of his hand. He squeezes your fingers but makes no other indication that he is awake. You litter kisses all along his back, his muscles shifting under the softness of your lips. “I love you,” you whisper against his skin before falling into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning you awake to a cold and empty bed, Bucky’s side a tangled mess. Another small note sits atop his pillow, scribbled in Bucky’s handwriting, ‘out for a run, don’t wait for me for breakfast, Steve said he wants to grab a bite, love you.” You smile, knowing Steve has his part of the plan under control. Flinging the covers off you walk into the bathroom with a newfound purpose, ready to get Bucky’s surprise started.
The scavenger hunt you send Bucky on has him traveling all over the neighborhood. Each new clue found in a spot special to you both, the place of your first date, the location of your first kiss, even the tree in the park where he told you he loved you for the first time. You made sure each of your clues was detailed in ways only Bucky could know, words meant only for him.
When he finally arrived at your last clue, he was standing in front of the very restaurant he had wanted to take you to last night. With a genuine smile on his face he walked in and looked around, his eyes landing on you seated at a nearby table. You shot up from your chair and ran into his arms, burying your face in his chest, your quiet sobs wetting his shirt.
“Baby girl, it’s ok, don’t cry, look at me.” Bucky places his finger under your chin, gently lifting it so you can look into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” you cry, clutching the front of his shirt in a tight grip. “I got so caught up in my own crap and I didn’t make time for us and it was wrong and I need you to know that you’re my everything and I love you more than anything Bucky!”
His large thumb swipes over your cheek to dry your tears. “I love you; I love you, it’s ok, I forgive you, don’t cry.” He repeats the words ‘I love you’ against your lips, cradling your face in his hands as you continue to hold his shirt in a death grip.
You don’t know how long you’re standing in the middle of the restaurant, holding each other and whispering. Bucky’s lips silence your constant apology, the kiss quickly becoming desperate as all your emotions are poured into it.
The loud clearing of a throat startles you both as you pull away to find the manager smiling but giving you the ‘take it outside’ look. You and Bucky let out a giggle and spew out several apologies as you walk out the door. Bucky grabs your hand, pulling you into his side and holding you close. “I know just the place to go, doll, come on.”
Bucky leads you toward your favorite park, “this way we have more privacy in our spot,” he says, smiling down at you. You reach the grassy area under the large oak tree that is tucked away at the other end of the park. Bucky sits and pulls you into his lap, “now where were we,” he hums before brushing his lips to yours.
“Bucky, wait.” You look at him, eyes pleading, “I love you and I want you to talk to me if you’re ever feeling like my head is up my ass, please.” He holds your gaze, staring into your eyes, “I know, I really do and thank you for doing all this for me, it was really special and made me happy and I promise to talk next time. I love you.”
The kiss starts out soft, Bucky’s warm lips moving languidly against yours as you straddle his lap. Large calloused fingers run along the soft skin under your shirt, your soft moans swallowed by his mouth. He feels every inch of you he can in the public space, gently sucking your bottom lip between his teeth before coming up for a breather. “I could spend forever right here with you,” he murmurs against your kiss swollen lips.
@book-dragon-13 @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter  @jewels2876 @loricameback @lollypop-lam @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes 
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sincerlyyme-blog · 8 years ago
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Group Therapy (CONNOR MURPHY x READER)
AUTHORS NOTE: hello!!!!! i am back!!!!!!! i wrote this little thing, in hopes of making it a multiple part series. so this is just part one! but if you guys dont like it, let me know and ill just leave it as it is. I also want to take a moment to say that i am back to UPLOADING A FIC OR HEADCANON ONCE A DAY!! when i first started this blog, that was my uploading schedule. life got in the way, but im back baby!!!!! 
Word Count: 2.4k ish
TW: suicide, suicide descriptions, swearing, therapy groups , etc
PS: i have been to many group therapies, so this is all just based purely on personal experience. so if this is triggering to you, please dont read any further!!!!
           Connor Murphy was special. Not special in the way you would describe a rare artifact or gem. He was special like the waves in the ocean, the colours in the sky, or oil paint on a canvas. He was special because you knew what to expect. Like a wave in the ocean, you expected to crash. Like the colours in the sky, you expected to fade out after hours of daylight. Like oil paint on a canvas, you expected to dry and harden after creating something beautiful. Connor Murphy was a synonym for beautiful; only the rarest of poets could find in a dictionary. He was the sound that rolled off of the tongue of a politician. He was the feeling of warm laundry, draping around your body. Connor was all of these things—which is why his downfall was to be expected.
           You had tried numerous group therapies in the past. None of them seemed to improve your feelings or behaviors. But they stabilized your health, which is all you could really ask for. There was something equally pleasing and eerie about joining group therapy. It was oddly satisfying to hear everyone bitch and complain, but also eerie that the painted beige walls would contain a group of kids who tried to kill themselves. Talk about a Suicide Squad.
           You drove yourself to group therapy. This one was named Youth Wonders: Group Therapy and Psychiatrics. The name was slathered on the brick building in bronze lettering. It looked ancient. Maybe it looked cool back in 2002, but it made you roll your eyes just at the sight. You were 5 minutes early. Your keys were still lodged into your car ignition. This was the hardest part: getting out of the car. There was always that part of you that was tempted to ditch, go eat some McDonald’s for the hour, and go back home to tell your dad that everything went well. The feeling of guilt spread over your stomach just at the thought. You have lied to your father many times before. He didn’t deserve to be lied to again.
           Finally, you slumped out of the driver’s seat and walked into the horrid building. It smelt like old carpet and candle wax. Kind of like a church. But nothing Holy grew an abundance to you whilst walking through the halls. A white, thick door was stood open with a brick. On the inside if the door, facing you, a pink slip of paper was taped up.
“TEEN YOUTH SUICIDAL THERAPY GROUP”
           They really don’t sugar coat anything here. Your footsteps grew heavier as you walked through the door. Plastic chairs were all set up in a circle. Inside there were only four teenagers, and a woman who had a strange resemblance to Whoopi Goldberg.
           “Name, please?” her scratchy voice echoed off the walls. Her dry hands where clutching a clipboard and her pink pen was held between her fingers, like a cigarette.
           “Oh, uh, Y/N L/N,” you frowned, taking a seat across from her.
           According to the amount of chairs set up, there were only six people in the group. You, an empty chair, Whoopi-Goldberg-lady, and an empty chair. The empty chair was to your left. You stared at it, feeling cold. The awkward tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. You took this moment of silence as an opportunity to look around the room. All of the teens glared at their feet.
           The girl next to you had red hair. Her face was populated with cystic acne that looked painful to the touch. Her ginger locks were pulled into a low ponytail. She wore a large men’s sweater that hung off of her skinny body. Sitting to her left was a large Filipino boy. He wore a purple sweater and old hiking shoes. The toe of the boots were worn out and his big toe peeked out. His hair was greasy, and he looked in need of a shower. Down the line, in the circle, sat a Latina girl. Her hair was done perfectly and her ears were pierced. Big golden hoops dangled from the lobes, reaching her collarbone. She was chewing bubblegum, and wearing a croptop – even though the temperature was just above freezing. Finally, in the corner sat a very pale white boy. He was short and skinny. He looked like he was 12 years old. His minecraft shirt had large orange stains, and had blonde whiskers growing in on his upper lip.
           Whoopi-Goldberg-lady took a final sigh, clicking her pen. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, another person stomped in.
           “You finally decided to join us
” the woman looked at her clipboard before reading out loud, “Connor?”
           The boy grunted in response, throwing his body down onto the chair next to you. You winced at the sound. He had long hair. The ends curled into the collar of his denim jacket. Your eyes trailed up to his face. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he grinded his teeth together. The Whoopi-lady stood up, smoothing out the material of her chiffon blouse.
           “Welcome, everyone. My name is Liz,” she spoke above her gravely tone.
           Her name was Liz. Finally, you could stop referring to her as the Whoopi-Goldberg-lady, in your head.
           “I will be your counselor and guide for this group. Within our 9 weeks here, I expect all of you to hit a few goals. The first being: opening up. I want you to share your story, knowing that whatever is said in here, stays in here.”
           You could hear the boy next to you, practically scoff.
           “So the first thing we are going to do is; go around the room, say your name, age, and explain why you are here.”
           You could feel everyone tense up.
           “Let’s start with,” Liz glanced at her clipboard. “Jamie.”
           The red-haired girl sat up straight. She removed her fingers from her mouth, as she was just chewing on her cuticles moments ago. Her bleeding fingers dove into the sleeves of her sweater.
           “Hi, I’m Jamie,” she spoke softly, almost like a robot. “I’m 15 and I’m here because I overdosed on sleeping pills.”
           Liz nodded, “Ok. Great. Thank you, Jamie.”
           Next in line was the boy in hiking boots.
           “Hi, I’m Leroy. I’m 16 and I tried to hang myself from a tree,” his voice was a deep baritone. But was quickly cut off by the Latina girl beside him.
           “Did the tree break, fatty?”
           “Andrea,” Liz warned. “This is supposed to be a safe space.”
           “Ok, yeah, whatever. I’m Andrea. I’m 18. This is my third time here. I took too much meth and blacked the fuck out. So I’m here,” she snapped her gum, fingering the golden hoop on her ear.
           “Daniel, your turn,” Liz looked at the small pale boy.
“Hi, um, I’m Daniel. I’m 16 and I, uh,” the boy began to sob violently. Your heart broke a little bit. The boy next to you, Connor, scoffed. You were almost in disbelief at his heartless gesture.
“It’s ok, hun. Take your time,” Liz spoke softly.
Daniel continued, hiccupping and telling the group how he tried to end his life just two weeks prior. After many tissues, Liz continued down the line.
“Connor?”
The boy next to you, shifted in his seat. He was now sitting up, straight. His long legs tangled over each other. His large, black combat boots looked heavy against his skinny shins. He was wearing a lot of layers.
“Yeah, hi, I’m Connor. I’m 17. I tried killing myself 3 weeks ago.”
“How? You have to say how,” Andrea twirled her hair around her finger.
“Why? Do you get off to people’s backstories or some shit?” he hissed back.
Liz waved the two of them off, gesturing that it was okay to keep those details private. Next was you. And you could feel your breath become heavy. All eyes landed on you.
“Well, uh, my name is Y/N. I’m 17, also. I tried killing myself last year, but I’m here because my therapist told me to,” you spoke softly.
“That’s fucking boring.”
“Andrea!”
 You were pouring coffee into a Styrofoam cup, rubbing the drowsiness out of your eyes. It was the half-way mark through group therapy. The group is given a 15 minute break between the two hours, and there is a small table full of shitty snacks and coffee.
“Coffee at 1pm?” a voice spoke from behind you. You turned to see that Connor boy offering you a lazy smirk.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”            “Well it’s shitty filtered coffee, and no one drinks coffee in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I didn’t know you cared so much,” you spoke while moving to the side, putting creamer and 8 packets of sugar into the small cup. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Jesus Christ,” he gaped at the amount of sugar you put in.
“It’s good, you should try it some time,” you mused, taking a small sip.
Connor shook his head, pouring some of the filtered brew into a cup of his own. “No, thanks. I’d like to live well into my thirties.”
“Isn’t that the opposite of why you’re here?”
“TouchĂ©.”
 The rest of the afternoon went as expected. Red-haired girl went on a rant about her dad never loving her, Daniel cried some more, and Liz gave us homework to complete for next week. The green folder full of worksheets will be added to the pile of therapy homework that you never do. You have other things on your plate. You have a job, school, and university to think about.
While walking to your car, you see the tall boy leaning against the hood of your car.
“Uh, hi?” you spoke, raising on eyebrow.
He jumped a little bit, not seeing you at first. “Oh, hey, can you drive me home? My dad is at work and my mom
” he trailed off, looking at his feet.
You scratched the back of your head, not really knowing what to say.
“I’m sorry, I barely even know you. I should just walk home-“ he began to ramble, grabbing his messenger bag from between his feet.
“Get in,” you sighed, unlocking the car.
“Wait. Really?”
“What’s your address?”
The car ride was pretty silent. It contained the sound of your humming motor, and the small murmurs of directions from Connor. You had asked him what street he lived on, but he just told you that he would direct you there. He lived on the outskirts of the city. By following his directions, you drove into the suburbs. The houses were all parallel to each other. Each of them very large, big two-car garages, and nicely trimmed lawns. It was the type of neighborhood that would give out the good candy on Halloween.
“It’s the house on left, here,” he mumbled once again. Your eyes practically bugged out of your head.
“This one?” you took one hand off the steering-wheel to point to the house in front of you. It was gigantic. It was painted yellow with a dark blue door. It must have been at least 4 stories high. The backyard, from what you could see, was massive. Two large pillars on other side of the front door, reminding you of pictures in textbooks about ancient Rome.
As you pulled into his driveway, Connor picked at his nail polish. “What? Are you surprised?”
“A little,” you laughed, looking over at him.
He began to pick up his bag, looking over at you. The sunset in the sky casted a pink shadow in your car, making everything a rose colour.
“Well, uh, thanks. I’ll see you next week,” he spoke, stepping out of your car.
You watched as the goth boy walked into the giant, yellow house. It was a sight to see.
 Next week rolled around, and you were five minutes early. You sat in your car, rubbing your temples. Another night without sleep. It was beginning to take a toll. Sitting in your car became a ritual you had. It gave you time to mope, before having to put on a brave face for wherever you were going. You let out a large sigh. Your head was pounding. Placing your forehead in the palms of your hands, you laid them down on the steering wheel. Closing your eyes, you were grateful to have a second to decompose.
It was quiet until you heard your passenger door open and slam shut. You let out a scream, sitting back, looking at the man who just entered. It was Connor.
“WHAT THE HELL?”
“Chill the fuck out.”
“CONNOR, YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT.”
“What? Get in someone’s car? I know. I’m not an idiot.”
You began to go on a slight rampage, telling him about how many girls get abducted by leaving their cars unlocked. He responded by telling you to ‘lock your fucking car, then’. Before you could shout another witty response, he shoved a cup of hot coffee into your hand.
“Here.”            “What
 What is this?”
“Coffee, you dumbass.”
“Yeah, I know. But why?”
He just shrugged, taking a sip out of his own cup, leaning back in the passenger seat.
“So, why do you sit in here?” he mumbled against the warm lid of his beverage.
“It’s just nice, I guess?” you spoke out softly, rubbing your eyes.
Connor nodded, drinking his coffee quietly. You did the same.
  Lunch time came around. Therapy had been going well. But you couldn’t help but find yourself staring into space every other minute. It was no group participation. It consisted of Liz telling everyone that how they were feeling is “okay”. It wasn’t anything that you hadn’t heard before.
You stood up the moment Liz said that your 15 minute break began. You walked over to the snack table, pouring another cup of coffee. Connor watched you from his seat, chewing on his bottom lip.
No one else had picked up on your caffeine habits. Rather, the rest of the teenagers fought over the sugar cookies that were lined up on the table. You walked back to your seat, sighing loudly as your butt hit the chair. You took a large gulp of the cheap caffeine, letting your eyes settle close for a moment.
“You know, I never got to hear your story last week,” you spoke softly with your eyes still closed.
“Well, same goes to you, I guess,” he mumbled back, slouching into his chair.
You cracked an eye open, looking at him. “Mine isn’t as recent.”
He shrugged back, watching you as your eyes flutter shut once more.
“My family is shit. My parents hate me. Some kid wrote a weird letter about my sister. I freaked the fuck out. It was just kind of the last straw, I guess?”
 It was quiet for a few more moments. You opened your mouth to speak, then Liz clapped loudly, asking everyone to return to their seats. Group began again, and Connor avoided your eyes at all costs.
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24hourchampagnediet-blog1 · 6 years ago
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So because I have used this and it has worked for me, I want to help other women like me get similar result. That’s why for the next few days only, I’m introducing

“Fat Blaster MAX Slimming Shake”
The fat blaster max slimming shake contains green coffee rich in chlorogenic acid, that actively splits fat deposits throughout the body. It facilitates boosting of metabolism, detoxification of your body, and washes out free radicals.
Natural anti-oxidants take care of your well-being and gorgeous appearance.
Just 2 packs of the Fat blaster package is enough to achieve noticeable results.
Whether you’re looking to burn belly fat fast, or you need to achieve elimination of facial puffiness, slim waist, slim hips, toned arms, elegant legs,
or simply need to lose excess weight in arms, hips, baby fat

The Fat Blaster MAX slimming shake will work for you.
Within the next 2 weeks, you will start approaching the ideal body shape every day.
But don’t take my word for it, Below are before and after transformation from real people like you have used this Fat Blaster program to lose weight and burn belly fat within few weeks.
She regained her self-confidence and saved her marriage using this fat blaster package
“This way of losing extra weight is excellent. I took the cups two times a day – before breakfast, lunch and dinner. I managed to lose almost 15 kg after 6 weeks, WOW!” – Mrs. Veronica
Yet another success story from christabel, she was able to lose 27.5kg in 6 weeks!
“It works excellently for men with pot belly”
Yet another testimonial from a satisfied customer

More testimonials

Would You Like to Get Similar Result, Lose Every Unwanted Fat, get A Flatter Belly Without Side Effects or Sweating at The Gym?
If You honestly answer yes to the above question, the Fat Blaster Max Program would help you achieve your goal of losing unwanted fat, burning off belly fat and also for quick weight loss without rebound.
This product which is created with the help of health experts was developed as a internal body cleansing system with 100 percent natural ingredients
 every overweight person can take to lose weight and get a flatter belly in the shortest time possible with no side effect.
Why is this Fat Blaster Max package highly effective and different?
There are 4 reasons that makes the Fat Blaster max program very effective and different from other supplements, diet pills and green tea that you must have used in the past.
1. INFLUENCE ON BODY TISSUES
Fat blaster max ultimate diet shake contains green coffee fat burner acts on the body at tissue level. Its active components find the locations of “fat depots”, penetrate into them and accumulate there.
2. BURNING OF FAT
Chlorogenic acid concentrates itself in the “fat depots” triggering their quick and effective burning. Up to 80% of fat depots in the body get split in this way.
3. BODY CLEANSING
Thanks to anti-oxidants and vegetable fibre, fat blaster max package quickly and effectively purges the body from toxins and excess fluid by washing them out naturally through the intestine.
4. IMPROVEMENT OF YOUR APPEARANCE
It also contains natural anti-oxidants which not only facilitate quick weight loss but improve the process of skin cells renewal. Due to this fact your looks improve every day!
Main ingredients: Soybean Protein Isolate,fructose,soluble dietary fiber,whey protein soy proteim ,rice protein,medium chain triglyceride,wheat protein,green coffen bean extract, inulin,Oat Fiber,calcium carbonate,salt,magnesium sulfate,Zinc lactate,vitamins minerals (vitamin A ,vitamin D,vitamin E ,vitamin C ,vitamin B1,vitamins B2,vitamins B6,vitamins B12) Nicotinic acid ,folic acid and Natural vanilla flavour
USAGE: Drink a cup of the beverage 2 times a day between meals. Minimum usage period is 2 weeks.
We are currently running a promo on the Fat Blaster Max package, If you place order for 2 packs of the Fat Blaster Package today you would get it for N17,000.
Fat Blaster Package (2packs) cost 17,000 (recommended)
But to Make It Even Better, When You Order Today, You will Also Get a FREE BONUS ENCLOSED  to Your Parcel *NOT available anywhere else
FREE BONUS: WHITE LIGHT KIT
The white light teeth whitening kit will help you to

1. Remove stains and removes darken tooth enamel caused by smoking, age and drinks such as red wine, coffee, tobacco, sodas, colas etc.
2. Penetrates deep to remove embedded stains.
3. Help you to lighten and brighten your teeth, and transform your smile. 4. It’s the same light technology used by Dentist worldwide to help patients get brighter teeth. The only difference is that you can use the white light system in the comfort of your home and at an affordable price.
When you order for the fat blaster package, you will also get the white light kit, absolutely free.
But, here’s the thing, there are limited supplies available and this offer will not last for long time. If you procrastinate, I cannot assure you that will get it at a discount price with the bonus as well.
So go ahead and order today before the available stocks runs out.
Follow the instructions below to place order, and get   the products delivered to your doorstep   (payment on delivery)   This means you will pay for the products only when it has been brought  down to you face to face by our courier service agent     Pay on Delivery Option Available to All States in Nigeria
Here’s How to Order for Your Fat Blaster Package Today at the Special Discount Price
FAT BLASTER PACKAGE (2packs) – N17,000
To order, text the following information below

that is, Fat Blaster Package
1. Your Full Name 2. Your Phone Number 3. Delivery Address (home or office address)
Send This Information as a text message to 08130717026
Please Note: Your delivery address must include (your street name, town, local govt and state). Detailed Enough to make it traceable by our courier delivery man that will come around to deliver to you.
You will get a SMS and Call from us within 24 hours to confirm your Order Before we Parcel It Across to You.
DELIVERY TIME
Once we received your order, and your details are correct, you will receive an sms or call confirmation from us.
Your products will then be sent to our courier delivery and the items should get to you within 2-4 Days for nationwide delivery to other state, and 1-2 days for orders within Lagos state.
Note: The product will be packaged discreetly and no one else will know  what’s inside, and every other information will be kept  private and 100% confidential.
Option 2
If you live in Lagos or Abuja, or nearby, you can also walk into our marketing department office to pick up the products.
You will meet our team ready to give you these products at same price

That is you Pay at our office, and get it instantly
Vantagesoft Marketing Enterprises Block B, Suite 9, Primal Tek Plaza, Beside ECO centre,  by Mokola Bus stop, opposite Gowon Estate Market, Egbeda-Idimu road, Egbeda, Lagos. or Suite 3B, First Floor, Shopping plaza beside NNPC Filling station, opposite LHS school, Ilo awela road, by Toll Gate Bus stop, Ota off Lagos-Abeokuta Expressway
or
Abuja office Hub: EFAB MALL Extension, suite A-75,  3rd Floor, off Gimbiya street, Garki, Area 11, Abuja, Fct.
(Monday – Saturday 9am – 5pm)
Customer support line: 08130717026
That is all you have to do to get the Fat Blaster MAX ultimate diet program today.
Limited supplies are available and I hope you don’t miss out.
Expecting your fat loss testimonials in few weeks from today.
Yours,
Mrs. Rita – 08130717026
Related
Source link Keto Diet Effects
0 notes
fuckyeahtattoogirls-blog1 · 6 years ago
Text
Garki woman gives away easy way to Get Rid of unwanted fat, lose 17kg and burn off belly fat in few weeks without diet pills or exercise
New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/garki-woman-gives-away-easy-way-to-get-rid-of-unwanted-fat-lose-17kg-and-burn-off-belly-fat-in-few-weeks-without-diet-pills-or-exercise/
Garki woman gives away easy way to Get Rid of unwanted fat, lose 17kg and burn off belly fat in few weeks without diet pills or exercise
Dear readers, If you would like to get access to a natural fat loss program that helps burn belly fat, tones down your hip, thigh, and reduces excess weight without going to the gym, diets, and without any side effects

then this will be the most important message you will read this year.
First things first, let me introduce myself. My name is Mrs. Rita, 47 years old, currently living in Garki, Abuja.
Some months back, I used to be really overweight and went to gym twice a week, did keto diets and several diet plans you must have heard of.
I kept making my diet stricter and stricter, excluding meat, bread, fries, and sweets. I ended up eating fruits and vegetables and drinking nothing but water. I tried some terribly expensive weight loss teas and patches but nothing seemed to work for me. After a while, the lost weight would come back to my exhausted body.
Neither diets nor exercises help, they are just a rip-off!
Working out is too hard and takes too long to see any progress.
After trying different useless methods of losing weight, spending hours in the gym and thousands of money paid to the personal instructor I gave up completely.
One day I came in contact with a old time friend, now a health researcher that told me about the Fat Blaster Max Program. I decided to try it even though I was skeptical. But having tried everything and getting desperate I had no choice!
Besides, I checked the reviews and they were impressive indeed!
Thousands of women in Nigeria got rid of their extra pounds thanks to this product. According to the research, 96.7% lost 12-17 kg in 2 -3 weeks!
I started using the Fat Blaster Max package, I read the instructions and started taking 2 cups daily, before my breakfast and before light supper.
Results
After only 7 days, my results were stunning – I lost 4 kg! The puffiness was gone and my complexion got much better!
The hips and belly became notably smaller – and my mood became better! I started to believe I could become beautiful again without any dieting or exercising!
So, I continued eating everything I wanted! I was too sick and tired of starving and working out

By the end of the third week, I lost another 12 kg! I became more fit and that inspired me to climb the stairs instead of using elevator every time. What seemed to be a tough workout became an easy pleasure for me!
I couldn’t believe it happened just because I was following those simple instructions on the Fat Blaster package!
The best part is that it requires:
No food restrictions – no stresses!
No strict diet – no breakdowns!
No Taking of Pills That dont even work
No Spending countless hours in the gym sweating out and getting no result!
The Fat Blaster Package will help you achieve Natural weight loss and the result remains with you forever!
Trust me its more than 3 months now I have lost over 37 kg of unwanted fat. Gotten back my beautiful shape with so much energy.
My friends and family were in shock and awe, so they bombarded me with all the questions as they were surprised about how I could lose so much fat within a short period of time. I honestly told everyone about what happened, and how I used the Fat Blaster package that worked tremendously for me.
So because I have used this and it has worked for me, I want to help other women like me get similar result. That’s why for the next few days only, I’m introducing

“Fat Blaster MAX Slimming Shake”
The fat blaster max slimming shake contains green coffee rich in chlorogenic acid, that actively splits fat deposits throughout the body. It facilitates boosting of metabolism, detoxification of your body, and washes out free radicals.
Natural anti-oxidants take care of your well-being and gorgeous appearance.
Just 2 packs of the Fat blaster package is enough to achieve noticeable results.
Whether you’re looking to burn belly fat fast, or you need to achieve elimination of facial puffiness, slim waist, slim hips, toned arms, elegant legs,
or simply need to lose excess weight in arms, hips, baby fat

The Fat Blaster MAX slimming shake will work for you.
Within the next 2 weeks, you will start approaching the ideal body shape every day.
But don’t take my word for it, Below are before and after transformation from real people like you have used this Fat Blaster program to lose weight and burn belly fat within few weeks.
She regained her self-confidence and saved her marriage using this fat blaster package
“This way of losing extra weight is excellent. I took the cups two times a day – before breakfast, lunch and dinner. I managed to lose almost 15 kg after 6 weeks, WOW!” – Mrs. Veronica
Yet another success story from christabel, she was able to lose 27.5kg in 6 weeks!
“It works excellently for men with pot belly”
Yet another testimonial from a satisfied customer

More testimonials

Would You Like to Get Similar Result, Lose Every Unwanted Fat, get A Flatter Belly Without Side Effects or Sweating at The Gym?
If You honestly answer yes to the above question, the Fat Blaster Max Program would help you achieve your goal of losing unwanted fat, burning off belly fat and also for quick weight loss without rebound.
This product which is created with the help of health experts was developed as a internal body cleansing system with 100 percent natural ingredients
 every overweight person can take to lose weight and get a flatter belly in the shortest time possible with no side effect.
Why is this Fat Blaster Max package highly effective and different?
There are 4 reasons that makes the Fat Blaster max program very effective and different from other supplements, diet pills and green tea that you must have used in the past.
1. INFLUENCE ON BODY TISSUES
Fat blaster max ultimate diet shake contains green coffee fat burner acts on the body at tissue level. Its active components find the locations of “fat depots”, penetrate into them and accumulate there.
2. BURNING OF FAT
Chlorogenic acid concentrates itself in the “fat depots” triggering their quick and effective burning. Up to 80% of fat depots in the body get split in this way.
3. BODY CLEANSING
Thanks to anti-oxidants and vegetable fibre, fat blaster max package quickly and effectively purges the body from toxins and excess fluid by washing them out naturally through the intestine.
4. IMPROVEMENT OF YOUR APPEARANCE
It also contains natural anti-oxidants which not only facilitate quick weight loss but improve the process of skin cells renewal. Due to this fact your looks improve every day!
Main ingredients: Soybean Protein Isolate,fructose,soluble dietary fiber,whey protein soy proteim ,rice protein,medium chain triglyceride,wheat protein,green coffen bean extract, inulin,Oat Fiber,calcium carbonate,salt,magnesium sulfate,Zinc lactate,vitamins minerals (vitamin A ,vitamin D,vitamin E ,vitamin C ,vitamin B1,vitamins B2,vitamins B6,vitamins B12) Nicotinic acid ,folic acid and Natural vanilla flavour
USAGE: Drink a cup of the beverage 2 times a day between meals. Minimum usage period is 2 weeks.
We are currently running a promo on the Fat Blaster Max package, If you place order for 2 packs of the Fat Blaster Package today you would get it for N17,000.
Fat Blaster Package (2packs) cost 17,000 (recommended)
But to Make It Even Better, When You Order Today, You will Also Get a FREE BONUS ENCLOSED  to Your Parcel *NOT available anywhere else
FREE BONUS: WHITE LIGHT KIT
The white light teeth whitening kit will help you to

1. Remove stains and removes darken tooth enamel caused by smoking, age and drinks such as red wine, coffee, tobacco, sodas, colas etc.
2. Penetrates deep to remove embedded stains.
3. Help you to lighten and brighten your teeth, and transform your smile. 4. It’s the same light technology used by Dentist worldwide to help patients get brighter teeth. The only difference is that you can use the white light system in the comfort of your home and at an affordable price.
When you order for the fat blaster package, you will also get the white light kit, absolutely free.
But, here’s the thing, there are limited supplies available and this offer will not last for long time. If you procrastinate, I cannot assure you that will get it at a discount price with the bonus as well.
So go ahead and order today before the available stocks runs out.
Follow the instructions below to place order, and get   the products delivered to your doorstep   (payment on delivery)   This means you will pay for the products only when it has been brought  down to you face to face by our courier service agent     Pay on Delivery Option Available to All States in Nigeria
Here’s How to Order for Your Fat Blaster Package Today at the Special Discount Price
FAT BLASTER PACKAGE (2packs) – N17,000
To order, text the following information below

that is, Fat Blaster Package
1. Your Full Name 2. Your Phone Number 3. Delivery Address (home or office address)
Send This Information as a text message to 08130717026
Please Note: Your delivery address must include (your street name, town, local govt and state). Detailed Enough to make it traceable by our courier delivery man that will come around to deliver to you.
You will get a SMS and Call from us within 24 hours to confirm your Order Before we Parcel It Across to You.
DELIVERY TIME
Once we received your order, and your details are correct, you will receive an sms or call confirmation from us.
Your products will then be sent to our courier delivery and the items should get to you within 2-4 Days for nationwide delivery to other state, and 1-2 days for orders within Lagos state.
Note: The product will be packaged discreetly and no one else will know  what’s inside, and every other information will be kept  private and 100% confidential.
Option 2
If you live in Lagos or Abuja, or nearby, you can also walk into our marketing department office to pick up the products.
You will meet our team ready to give you these products at same price

That is you Pay at our office, and get it instantly
Vantagesoft Marketing Enterprises Block B, Suite 9, Primal Tek Plaza, Beside ECO centre,  by Mokola Bus stop, opposite Gowon Estate Market, Egbeda-Idimu road, Egbeda, Lagos. or Suite 3B, First Floor, Shopping plaza beside NNPC Filling station, opposite LHS school, Ilo awela road, by Toll Gate Bus stop, Ota off Lagos-Abeokuta Expressway
or
Abuja office Hub: EFAB MALL Extension, suite A-75,  3rd Floor, off Gimbiya street, Garki, Area 11, Abuja, Fct.
(Monday – Saturday 9am – 5pm)
Customer support line: 08130717026
That is all you have to do to get the Fat Blaster MAX ultimate diet program today.
Limited supplies are available and I hope you don’t miss out.
Expecting your fat loss testimonials in few weeks from today.
Yours,
Mrs. Rita – 08130717026
Related
Source link Keto Diet Effects
0 notes
samanthasroberts · 8 years ago
Text
Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship
Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.
There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.
Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.
Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.
For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.
So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.
By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.
It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.
Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.
It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.
Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.
I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.
When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.
Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.
The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.
Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.
It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.
My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?
During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.
I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.
Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?
I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.
I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.
I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.
Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.
I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.
By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.
Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.
If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.
Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.
Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.
I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.
So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?
Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.
Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.
I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.
Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?
Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.
Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.
Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.
The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.
Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/
0 notes
adambstingus · 8 years ago
Text
Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship
Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.
There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.
Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.
Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.
For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.
So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.
By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.
It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.
Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.
It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.
Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.
I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.
When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.
Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.
The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.
Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.
It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.
My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?
During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.
I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.
Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?
I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.
I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.
I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.
Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.
I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.
By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.
Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.
If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.
Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.
Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.
I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.
So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?
Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.
Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.
I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.
Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?
Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.
Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.
Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.
The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/167431371812
0 notes
allofbeercom · 8 years ago
Text
Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship
Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.
There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.
Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.
Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.
For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.
So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.
By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.
It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.
Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.
It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.
Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.
I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.
When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.
Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.
The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.
Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.
It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.
My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?
During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.
I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.
Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?
I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.
I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.
I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.
Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.
I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.
By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.
Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.
If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.
Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.
Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.
I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.
So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?
Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.
Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.
I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.
Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?
Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.
Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.
Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.
The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/
0 notes
mentalrubikzcube-blog · 8 years ago
Text
Confront Yourself Ch. 2
Chapter 2 We arrived at the hospital and I was rushed inside. I only caught a few images of what was going on because my eyes were still very strained and sore. My head was also still trying to work up the strength to make sense of all of this. Daya stayec at my side. She was alwats there for me. I even saw Spitz there. Daya threw him out. Apparently there was a bit more to the story. Daya woukd later on confide in me that Spitz originally was gonna bring me to the hospital in his car and as he was "helping" me in he got rather "handsy". Daya had been looking for me and checked if I was smoking, which was the go to spot if I'm not waitressing. She saw Spitz and called the police and 911. I was completely unconcious the whole time and dont remember the assault or the fainting. It had to be from lack of sleep. Once the nicotine hit my sytem combined with Spitz's rage, I guess it was too much and I collapsed. I cant belive, well actually I can, but still. How could you take advantage of your employmee? Who am I kidding, its Connor Spitzman were talking about. Scoundrel extrordinare. After sometime in the ICU, I was aloud to go home and told to get rest and take a week off work. Daya stressed to the nurse that she would make sure I made a full recovery. She definitely would hold hold up her end of the bargin. She took me home and tucked me into bed. Very little was said. We both knew that I needed to just rest. What was there to talk sbout anyway, it had been a traumatic day for us both. She needed rest just like I did. When I suggested she stay the night she about cried. Daya was one of the few who knew that extending an invitation like that wasnt common for me. She thanked me and got the couch ready for her to sleep later. After a wonderful dinner of chicken cordon bleu and golden potatoes we both headed to bed. I fell back into my deep space sleep. It felt good to let go and finally recharge. As I lay there, I Kofeel tears roll down my cheeks. Why am I crying?  I thought to myself. I wiped them away and fell again into my comatose sleep. Numb. Black. Perfect. Serene. Gone too quick. Before I knew it Daya had brought me breakfast in bed. Waffles, eeggs, bacon, mixed berries, orange juice, even a side of cinnamon butter, and finally a little vase with wildflowers. The works. "Wow, thanks D." I was so grateful to gave someone who cared about me so much. She smiled and headed out of the room. Returning with my Firefly mug filled with rich Columbine coffee. "Three packs of sugar and just enough cream to coat your throught so you can drink more, right?" Daya chuckled I smiled. She knew me so well. Now before you getbthe wrong idea. No, she is not my girlfriend. She is however my best friend and I would literally die without her. She keeps me grounded and I do my best to do the same for her. After breakfast, coffee, and a morning smoke I wanna get out and go for a walk. If I'm gonna be on sick leave then I atleast wanna get some fresh air and get outside. That's the best way to feel better if youre system is upset. I tried to go for walks whenever I need to clear my head or just feel better in general. As I was getting ready Daya was in my ear telling me about how what if I fainted again and that I needed to be careful, I assured her I would be and she finally relented and let me go on my walk. I walked up the street and around a few corners. I passed pretty neighborhoods and not so pretty ones. I finally came upon a small strip mall. I wondered along the siewalk gazing st the colorful and vast stores that were included by one another. Matress store. Carribean dining. Hat repair place. Subway. I kept walking and then I saw a shop worth looking into, it was called Miss Lovely Lovely's Curio Cabinet. From the outside it looked like a vintage bookstore. I opened the door and it triggered a little bell. A lady emerged from a chair and greeted me warming then the sun after a long frost, "Hello traveler, may I offer you some Egyptian cinnamon tea?" She was a very sweet old lady. She had long almost transparent white hair and her eyes were an emerald green. Very shiny and flawless. "No thank you." I repiled. I looked around the shop in amazement. There were so many things. Clothes, books, toys, trinkets galore, and so much more. "Look around dear and let me know if you need anything." She said sitting back down. I did just that. This place was fasicinating. Vintage and modern stuff mingled together. It was beautiful and kept blinking thinking it was a dream. How have I not been here before? I ask myself. After looking at the jewlery and clothes, I gravitate to the books. After looking throught many titles I was compelled to ask her if she had a book that could help me sleep. That space sleep was temporary and I know it. "Ma'am, do have anything about insomnia?" She smiledcat my request. She disappered to the back and reappeared with a small brown leather bound book without a name. "I was hoping you would have come sooner, Reylnn Yorfath." Shd said my name, How did she know my name? I pondered in horror "Wwww-ho arrrrre you?" I stuttered "Miss Lovely Lovely of course." She chuckled "I go by many names, but that isnt important, you need this book to fix what you have broken." I didnt know what to do, so I accepted the book with no name and looked it over. It was rather tiny snd the pages were stained from the years. It also had a vintage air about it. Flipping through I saw that many of the paragraphs had multiple sentences underlined. It was very intriguing. I still didnt understsnd how she knew my name, but I wanted that book. "Hhhhh-ow much?" I asked, sounding like an idiot "No dear, this is a gift, before you can be at peace you must confront yourself." She said lovingly "Thank you." I said quietly tucking the book into my purse, I slowly made my way out of the store still amazed and looking around. Once outside I immediately light a cigarette. What just happened? I asked myself I began to make my way back to the house before Daya got worried. When I got to the front door, I looked in the window and saw Daya was sitting on the couch reading a book. I love the way her hair shimmers in the sun. To be honest I might have a slight crush on Daya, but I would never tell her. It woukd ruin our friendship. Anyway, I make my way inside and greeted her. She immediately started into how far I walkdd and if I took breaks as to not get too tired and pass out again. "Yes, Mom, I made sure to be careful." I teased her, she got a little frustrated but eventually laughed it off. I set my things down and told her about the little shop. She had never hesrd of it before. Weirdly, she checked the internet for it but there was nothing as if it didnt even exsist. Then Daya became a litte worried and asked me, "Are you sure you went there? Maybe your head is messing with you. I told you, you needed more rest." Daya huffed and looked at me concerned. I had left out the part about the book thinking she would freak out, I was even happier now I hadnt. I knew what I saw. It was real. Everything happened just like that. But then I began to question. Had I really gone there? Theres nominternet listing and my mind has been being weird lately. I swore it really happened thought. It seemed so real. Thoughts swirled around my head and I knew I had to see if I had the book. But I didnt want Daya to see and ask me about it. She woukd think I was crazy. I said rather shyly, "Well, I'm gonna go get some rest then. I guess my head is just still messed up. Anyway thanks Daya." Then I slipped away to my room with my purse. Once insixe inside I closed the door and locked it. I put the purse on the bed and stuck my hand inside. I felt my wallet, perfume, sunglasses, smokes, lighter, and other odds and ends. Where was the book? Had I really imagined all of that? I began to think to myself. Suddenly I panicked and thought once more, Am I going crazy? Did I hit my head harder then I thought? Is this insomnia eating away at my memory and thought patterns? I started to shake a bit, but I looked once more in my purse. Wallet, keys, sunglasses, BOOK! It was there. How had I skipped it the first time? Or was my mind just playing tricks on me again? I didnt know. All I knew was that I had the book and now I could finally cure my insomnia. I sat on the bed and began to read. I was shocked by how accurate and headon this stuff was. Before I knew it Daya was knocking on my door for dinner. I stashed the book under my pillow. Because for whatever reason I didnt wanna spark her curiosity. I wanted this treasure all to myself. I unlocked the door and met Daya in the living room. Waiting for me was shrimp and rigatoni. It smelled amazing. I couldnt wait to dive in. Daya gave me the pills the doctor perscribed and we ate. After a great meal and equally great converstaion we both agreed it was time for bed. "You need anything?" Daya asked as I was brushing my teeth. I shook my head. We echanged goodnights and she shut of the lights. I slid into my room, anxious to see what else the book said. Already it had me addicted. I was somewhat experiencing withdrawl when at dinner. Which I thin was more guilt then anything. I wanted to tell Daya, I really did, but I knew she wouldnt understand. So I would keep it to myself until I knew for sure it cured me of this insanity which I was desperately on the brink of. I read to myself, "Life is defined as the state or quality that distinguishes living beings from dead ones and from inorganic matter, characterized chiefly by metabolism, growth, and the ability to reproduce and respond to stimuli. The period between birth and death. But to Live means something else entirely. Live is defined as to remain alive, be alive, to exsist in a specified way. We all are given Life, but seldom do any of us Live. We need to live. Be alive and go out and enjoy the world. Get out of our comfort zones. Aid our fellow man and conquer the earth the way The Creator intended. For out Creator is Life and we only Live through Him. For the wages of sin are death, but the Gift of our Creator is Eternal Life through His Son. All you must do is believe." I shut the book and rolled my eyes, "Great, a religious book, but still how did she know I was gonna come in there, I mean Im sure she gives everyone the same book but how did she know my name?" I wondered to myself, I didnt know how to explain all of it, so I decided to try an sleep. I place the book on my nightstand, roll over, and pull the blanket up. Maybe I'd give the book another chance tomorrow, even for being a religious book it wasnt bad. I fade into a deep sleep and I'm standing in a meadow. The breeze is light and airy. I gaze around at the cloud filled blue sky and the crisp green grass benath me. Out of nowhere I hear a voice say, "Do not be afraid, whom I have chosen. For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out My Spirit on your offspring, and My blessing on your descendants. They will spring upnlike grass in a meadow, like poplar trees by flowing streams. I am the First and the Last. Apart from Me there is nothing. All who make idolsare nothing, and the things they treasure are worthless. Those who would speak up for them are blind; they are ignorant, to their own shame. No one stops to think, 'Is not this thing in my hand a lie?' Such a person feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him, he cannot save himself. I have made you,  you are My servant. I have swept away your offenses lime a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to Me, for I have redeemed you. Sing for joy, you heavens, for the Creator has done this. Shout aloud, you earth beneath. Burst into song, you mountains, you forests and all you trees, for the Creator has redeemed you, He displays His Glory before you. Be gratious and humble becore your Creator!" While the voice spoke everything around me was changing constantly. Before I knew it I was no long err in the meadow but up in space looking at earth from above. Just floating along in space with no problems. Then suddenly I was in the mountains looking down on the majesticness of the world down below. Then suddenly I was deep in the woods and the wind wooshed about creating a harmonious rhythm through the branches and the leaves. I was amazed by everything I saw. Out of nowhere there was a flash of lightning and booming of thunder. I instinctively dropped down out of fright. I heard the same voice one more and it spoked louder now, "I am the Alpha and Omega, The beginning and the end, there is nothing without Me. Nothing! Bow before your Creator you miserable creation." I got down on my knees and bowed, and in the blink of an eye I was back in my apartment in my bed like nothin happened. What just happened? I thought to myself. I fell back asleep after much tossing and turning, no crazy dreams this time. Just a deep deep deep sleep.
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codedredalert · 8 years ago
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hi! im a huge fan of your long haul fic and i remember you saying you had a few deleted scenes you could post if asked? Could you? Your writing is my favourite! lots of love <3
awww thanks anon <3 sure here ya go, but be warned that it’s extremely raw so it has some rambly thoughts/shouty notes to myself, hasn’t been edited for punctuation etc, and it’s not complete, but the ideas should be there. also pls keep in mind that it was written a long time ago and sometimes the characters are offensive >< these were deleted for a reason 
oh and its ambiguously 1859 fanservicey ish hahahha.imo dealing with a drunk person is very not sexy but i know the shipper mindset HAHAHAAH 
its about 3k words long so pls click the readmore to get all of it! if its less than 3k and you dont see the readmore you might need to view the post on my blog
===/\===
“Goodevening Gale!”
FUCK gokudera shot out of his chair SCRAMBLEAGAIN Hibari’s going to kill him
Hibari looks up from the floor and dragshimself two steps to the sofa and stretches out there.
Well, looks like gokudera’s just given him afree pass to the sofa then. Shit next thing you know gokudera’ll be sleeping inthe bathtub.
“Hello!” she says and she breezes in as soonas gokudera opened the door.
“Hi Ma’am, Angel, uh, Kaoru’s sleeping.”
“Oh whoops, sorry,” she said, and she creptover to check. “Wow, he looks super young like this!”
Was hibari actually sleeping haha no waydumb question.
“Hey Gale hon, what’s this?” thelandlord asked, picking up the photo of the Costeggiarefamily member bastard son they’d been having trouble looking for since thebombing
Dropped on the floor, the picture ofDario/duilio which hibari kept in his pocket.
Shit shit shit, cover story quick.
“Well, right now we’re looking for thatguy. Hoping to interview him. You know him from somewhere?“ 
“Oh yeah, hon. He’s a regular at mywork for two months now, sometimes comes on too strong to the staff or othercustomers, but he spends big, so,” she shrugged. “What can Ido?”
The door opened and Hibari dropped his keyson the table before turning to lock the door. “Kaoru,” Gokuderacalled. The dark haired man looked up from where he was taking off his outdoorshoes.
Hibari opened an eye. When it was convenientfor him huh, bastard.
“Where,” he asked, sitting up.
“good morning Kaoru,” she says. He eyes herfunny, then dips his head.
“Angel found our mark,” headded in Japanese.
“Who?” Hibari asked. Gokuderawaved the photo of the Costeggiare familymember. “Not that,” Hibari said. Gokudera rolled his eyes. Why was heunsurprised by Hibari not bothering to remember who Angel was when she’d beenwaltzing in and out ever since they started the mission? “Thelandlady.”
“I see,” Hibari answered,setting the shopping on the kitchen counter and walking over to the table. Hemet the landlady’s eyes.
“Boungiourno,”he greeted stiffly before turning back to Gokudera. “Where.” Herepeated.
“He is a regular at herworkplace,” Gokudera said, passing Hibari the photo.
“you can speak Italian just fine why don’tyou ask her”
“people say a lot when they think you don’tunderstand them,” hibari answered irritably. “Where.”
“Say Angel, you never said exactly where youwork.”
“Well, it’s not an uppity sort of place.” She bites her painted lip. “aw hell with it.It’s a dance place. We have girls dance on tabletops if you know what I mean.”
“ah,” gokudera says. “should be fun. For meat least.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” thelandlady said, pointing at Hibari. “That guy in the photo? He’s a regularof one of our girls, and she looks a lot like you. You know, exotic, pale, darkhair, dark eyes,” she added helpfully. Hibari looked at Gokudera.
“You should really stop pretendingthat you don’t understand Italian,” there’s no way im actually goingto translate for you, Gokudera said dryly. Hibari smirked.
“If that’s true, then I’ll bite him todeath,” Hibari said, eyes sparking with anticipation, completely ignoringGokudera’s input. It looked like his weeks of boredom were over, and he didn’teven have to resort to visiting the Chiavarone house.
“If it helps, he stops by to watch Kikievery Friday night– Kiki’s that dancer Kaoru-san looks like– and he alwayssits in booth twelve. She comes on at eight, so if you boys get there a bitearlier, you could get yourselves a seat nearby.”
Hibari stands gracefully, one fluid motionand is already walking to the kitchen.
“Ask the landlord if he wantstea.” He says, businesslike.
“That’s nice of you,” gokudera says,trying and failing to keep his incredulous tone out of his voice.
"If you don’t tip informants, you won’thave informants.” Hibari said, and he put the kettle on.
Gokudera sighed. Of course Hibari would beso mercenary. "He wants to know if you would like tea.“ He tellsAngel and he laughs
"Oh, so all I had to do to getKaoru-san to open up was to invite him to the club? "Sure, I’d lovetea.”“ she laughed. And gokudera winced laughed along. A club is thelast place hibari would want to be. He is crossing his fingers that that nightwont be a disaster.
"And I think I’ll need another coffee,I need to run more background.” Gokudera calls to him
“Milk?”
Wow that’s amazing.
“No thanks, it’s two already.”
“Oh, and no offense if you alreadyknow this, but just tell Kaoru-san, because he doesn’t look like he’s ever beento a club in his life. STRIP CLUB ETTIQUETTE
Alright boys, now the real reason I’m here,
Right, gokudera pulls her money from hiswallet, exact amount, and she drinks her tea. Hibari doesn’t even comment onthe lipstick stain.
Well, see you boys [tonight] then! She saysand leaves. Clack clack lack of her boots on the way to the lift. Gokudera andhibari and chiavarone are the only weirdos who take the stairs.
Gokudera drinks his coffee and marvels athis luck.
Hibari washes the cups.
"Not bad, miser,” Hibari saidbefore he disappeared into the room, and the clack of plastic on wood meantthat he had gotten his laptop out.
Good morning Tenth. It’s a day of goddamnmiracles. –59
Heh. Good to hear, Gokudera-kun—27 
===/\===
The good streak of course couldn’t last.
“We need to come off as young, cockyfirst floor trash so he won’t take us too seriously, got it?”
“Yes,” Hibari said, and Gokuderacould hear the eye rolling in his voice. at least he was still replying? Butnow gokudera wasn’t sure if hibari would LISTEN and what’s the use of aconfirmation that might not actaly be what he means.
“I’m serious,” Gokudera said, using everyounce of self-control to not snap at him. “I want us to look so young that weget carded.”
There we go. Hibari’s stopped answering.
Gokudera wore an amalgamation of his clothesfrom his high school days and his current wardrobe. The button down was Galeand the three belts and the graphic tee were all teenage-Gokudera.
Hibari wore a full suit, crisp black overdeep purple and perfectly tailored. Gokudera was this close to introducing hisown face to the coffeetable.
“Are you really going to a club dressedlike that?” Gokudera asked incredulously. 

 Yes “This is how I normallydress,” Hibari answered, frowning. 
You know what kind of club this is?

 a looooong pause.
“Well, there’s your problem,”Gokudera said under his breath. “Why don’t you just break out your shinycredit cards and get yourself a clubbing outfit?”
Hibari observed him for a moment. “Idon’t want to,” he answered simply. 
Coffeetable was too far. Gokudera put hisdespairing head into his hand.
“Dammit, just change, I don’t want towalk into any club if you’re wearing that,” Gokudera sighed, running onehand through his hair. Hibari raised an eyebrow as if he truly believed that asuit was the perfect attire to go to a strip club in while undercover.
“Change to what.”
Oh dear lord all the talk about dressingHibari up was going to become a real thing. Maybe he could shoot himself andget this over with.
“Alright, I’ll see if I can work a miraclewith your closet,“ Gokudera sighed, walking over to the window side of theroom and opening the bedside drawer. A quick rummage proved that yes,everything was office shirts and black suit wear. So Hibari wearing the purpleshirt with the suit was his idea of interesting. Gokudera closed the drawer.
"Looks like you don’t have much ofchoice,” Gokudera said, looking over Hibari’s outfit once more.
Lose the jacket and tie,“ he directed,but Hibari’s eyes just narrowed in defiance.
"Work with me here, damn you,”Gokudera cursed, walking over to the other bedside drawer and pulling out a fewaccessories of his own. Looking at Hibari then at the items he’d laid out, hepicked a fang on a black leather strip and an accompanying leather wristband.
“This is stupid,” Hibari intoneddryly, unbuttoning his top button. His blazer and tie were draped over thechair, and his sleeves had been rolled up. Without the extra padding of hissuit, his slight build was obvious, barely changed from his middle school days.Still, with an aura that fierce, it was unlikely he’d have too much trouble.Besides, any story that involved Hibari getting picked on in a strip club wouldbound to be interesting to tell to the guys back in Japan. 
“One more button,” Gokudera toldhim, before turning to look for a suitable belt. “And wear those,” headded, waving absently at the pieces he laid out on the bed. “Andthis,” he added as he pulled out a belt. It had two teeth and metaleyelets in twos, with another strap hanging from it like half suspenders.
“That would be a liability,”Hibari critiqued as he fastened the wristband on his left wrist. 
“Just wear it and give the poor suckerswho try to make trouble with you a fighting chance,” Gokudera snickered,closing the drawer. Hibari scoffed quietly as he removed the belt he wascurrently wearing.
“A straightjacket would be moreappropriate,” Hibari said, threading Gokudera’s belt around his waist andcomfortably cinching it at the innermost set of eyelets. 
“Nice to know that the cloud guardianof Vongola is a humble man,” Gokudera remarked cynically.
Hibari bowed his head in humourous? Assent.
If you wear your boots we’re good to go. No,wait there a second.“ Gokudera stepped into the bathroom to grab some hairwax. He passed it to Hibari, who looked at it then gave Gokudera a deadpan lookas if to ask ‘and what do you expect me to do with this?’
"Style your hair a bit,” Gokuderatold him. At Hibari’s blank look, Gokudera decided that it wasn’t any goodexplaining. He grabbed the bottle and opened it, scooping out just a littlewith his fingers. “Now stay still and for the love of God, don’t goberserk on me, alright?”
Hibari flinched and glared as Gokudera’shands came up to his head, but otherwise took the fussing well.
Kind of punk looking. But hey, punk’s notdead right. Yeah.
“Hah, not bad,” Gokuderacongratulated himself. 
“Disgusting,” Hibari commented, ashe touched his hair lightly, the slightly sticky texture of the waxbrushing off on his fingers.
“boots. Boots, lets go.”
Angel worked in walking distance in the notso nice part of town. Hibari was more acquainted with the place than Gokuderaexpected. Two turns later and he slowed.
“C’mon it’s almost time.”
“What is this place?” Hibariasked, stopping in his tracks. From the neon lit street, booming music and theunmistakable noise of throngs of people emerged. Gokudera sighed, and turned.
“That’s Angel’s bar.” When Hibarimade no sign of recognition, Gokudera elaborated. “The landlord’sworkplace.”
“There’s a crowd,” Hibari stated,refusing to carry on walking. 
“Yes, it’s a Friday night, but this isalso work, so let’s go.”
“If I go anywhere near that place, it’sto bite everyone there to death,” Hibari said, mouth curling into a silentsnarl. 
“Well, suck it up. This is work.”
Hibari walked at a steady pace, cut throughthe crowd and Gokudera had to follow.
Second floor less so. They didn’t actuallyget carded. Gokudera was much disappoint.
Murderous aura and the nearest patronslooked nervous.
“Just be glad we’re in a booth.”
Kiki wasn’t on yet, but Bambi was. Or atleast that’s what she said her name was. Bambi was a sultry brunette withshoulder length hair and hazel eyes. Gold glitter painted stripes and spotsdown her back, arms and legs, highlighting the tan skin. 
“You just missed me, handsome,” she says toyou. you smile and wave.
“Next time then,” you say casually. You areso not good with women especially when they don’t have all their clothes on.You blame your sister.
“Hey, we booked this booth,” someone saysbehind you.
“Oh?” Hibari says and he’s spoiling for afight so hard that you level a warning glance at him instead of turning to seewho it was.
“Let the boys stay,” an amusedvoice. 
Goddamn, Dario himself. He looked IDK HOWDOES HE LOOK WHO ARE HIS GOONIES
Hibari’s grin was wicked.
“I’m Darren,” he lies smoothly. MIGHT WANTTO CHANGE HIS ALIAS.
“Kaoru,” Hibari said. 
“Is that your real name?”
Hibari gave the man a look. Whut you smokingbruh
He laughed. “Could I buy you adrink?”
“No need, I have a tab open.”
“I insist.”
“Then, if you must.”
Kiki was a petite woman, with raven hairspilling freely over her shoulders down to her waist. She didn’t look anything like Hibari, she was justAsian.
If this guy had yellow fever you were goingto laugh your ass off.
===/\===
(missing scene)
“Don’t touch me.”“What’s wrong with you?”“It was crowded. And noisy. There was something in my cranberry juice.That man kept talking to me and I couldn’t kill anyone. I hate that place. Youcan go alone next time, pervert.”
“He’s a pervert. You’re a pervert too.” Hibari’s eyes narrowed.“I should bite you to death.”“Yeah, yeah, tomorrow alright? Just try to stay conscious until we reachthe house." "Wait,” Hibari said, suddenly throwing his weight back.“What?” Gokudera asked tiredly. “Outside clothes, don’t touch the bed, herbivore,” Hibari mumbled disjointedly. “Nice to know you follow your own rules,” Gokudera sighed, pullingdown the bedcovers and dumping Hibari on the bed. “I said not to touch the bed,” Hibari protested, sitting up. Gokuderagave him a light shove and collapsed on the bed himself.“Shut up and go to sleep,” Gokudera said, words muffled by thesheets. He couldn’t even be bothered to get his pillow from the couch outside.He fully expected some sort of retort or a threat from Hibari, but none came,testament to how far gone the other man was. Yawning, Gokudera decided hazilythat he would take whatever nonsense he’d get for ‘crowding’ the bed and justwent to sleep where he was.
===/\===
Gokudera woke like a man struggling not todrown in molasses, slowly, with a lot of effort and a little pain. He hadn’tdrawn the curtains the night before and he was in a strange place betweenfeeling ‘rested’ and ‘like crap’. He’d slept on his front last night and therewas a kink in his neck as due punishment. Of course, there was also the matterof him smelling like sweat, cheap perfume, alcohol and cigarette smoke. It wasamazing that Hibari hadn’t just thrown him out the window for daring to so muchas touch the bed in this state.
Gokudera turned to his side to stretch andfroze. Hibari hadn’t rudely kicked him out of bed, not from some sense ofgratitude for Gokudera hauling him back from the club, but because he hadn’t woken up yet. Gokudera gaped atthe thought, but before his eyes was the undeniable.
Hibari was curled up on his side, back tothe light, and face shielded by the crook of his elbow. Gokudera felt a grinbreak through his usual morning grogginess. The sight was almost endearing,except this was Hibari, and the onlythings associated with Hibari and the word ‘endearing’ were either a highlyintelligent messenger bird that could be carrying a spy-cam that sealed yourdoom or a personalised box weapon that could decimate an army and reduce askyscraper to rubble within five minutes. Gokudera could almost see thehedgehog curled up in the exact same way as its owner in the empty space nearHibari’s stomach, and Hibird nestled between the man’s wrist and hair. Heresisted the urge to take a photo and send it to the Tenth and got up asquietly as possible. As much amusement as he got from seeing the violentmisanthrope sleeping all tucked into a ball, photographic evidence wasn’t worththe broken bones he knew he would get afterwards. Hibari appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, arms full of sheets. He took onelook at Gokudera and the landlord sitting at the kitchen counter, then steppedback into the room and shut the door.“Oh my, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen him half dressed,”she commented. Then she gave Gokudera a knowing smile. “Changing thesheets are we? Good going." "Ah, yeah,” Gokudera tried to smile casually while mentally screamingno. She must have picked up on Gokudera’s uneasiness, because she patted hisarm reassuringly. “Be more confident, sweetie. You’re good looking, smart and you have awonderful disposition. You’re a right saint,” she smiled.“Besides,” she whispered. “I don’t think anyone but you has thepatience to deal with his temper.”Gokudera laughed. “You should see our boss,” he replied. Tsunacould smile genuinely all the time while talking Hibari down off a rampage andpersuading the man to do something other than stalk around Namimori or sit inhis house and drink tea. It never failed to amaze Gokudera each and every time.Heck, Tsuna even managed to get Hibari and Mukuro to go on a mission togetherwithout one of them coming back dead.
He placed the plate on top of the glass tofree one hand. “Hibari?” Gokudera asked, knocking on the door.“Go away.”“If you can’t drink, you shouldn’t,” Gokudera said matter-of-factly.He opened the door then took the plate back into his hand, pushing the dooropen the rest of the way with his foot. Hibari was sitting in the tub, water upto his chest and dark hair plastered to his skull. It vaguely reminded Gokuderaof bathing his cat.“Who said you could come in?” Hibari asked, not turning to faceGokudera. “If you’re too out of it to even lock the door, then I’d better come inbefore you drown or something,” Gokudera retorted. “Here.”“Don’t want it,” Hibari muttered without even looking at whatGokudera was holding. “It’s just toast, water and aspirin,” Gokudera said, starting to getannoyed. “How badly could I fuck up toast?" "I’m not going to eat in the bath,” Hibari said, leaning against theside of the wall and grimacing. “Leave it outside.”“Seriously, you alright?” Gokudera felt the need to ask again. “Must I bite you to death before you are convinced?” Hibari snipped. “Hah, you must be fine if you’re making threats. Don’t drown, bastard.”
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viralhottopics · 8 years ago
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Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship
Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.
There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.
Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.
Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.
For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.
So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.
By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.
It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.
Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.
It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.
Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.
I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.
When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.
Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.
The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.
Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.
It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.
My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?
During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.
I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.
Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?
I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.
I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.
I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.
Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.
I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.
By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.
Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.
If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.
Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.
Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.
I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.
So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?
Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.
Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.
I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.
Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?
Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.
Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.
Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.
The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.
Read more: http://ift.tt/2iTRz6N
from Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship
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