I’m staring out the window, and I can see the moon.
What am I going to do now?
I can’t sleep. It’s my second night in detox, and they’ve stopped giving me Ativan.
I’m no longer a seizure risk, they say.
That’s too bad — another night of benzodiazepine-laced sleep would’ve been nice.
Especially in this hellhole.
I have a feeling I’ll never sleep again.
You most certainly overreacted, I think.
Couldn’t I have just endured another hangover?
I could’ve had a beer to calm my screaming nerves and gone to work, just like I had so many times before.
Instead, I freaked out, thought I was dying. And now, I’m here — in detox, having an existential meltdown, staring at the moon, wondering how I’m supposed to get through the rest of my life without ever drinking again.
If I’d just sucked it up and pushed through another hangover, I’d be sleeping in my bed at home.
Well — probably not sleeping. More like passed out after a case of beer.
My drinking has become so chronic.
I suppose I could no longer keep waiting for future Laura to figure this alcohol problem out.
I’ve passed so much responsibility onto her — poor thing.
Future Laura has always been assigned the heavy lifts:
She’s the one who’ll quit drinking, quit smoking, stop biting her nails, lose all the weight, and fix the broken marriage.
Apparently, future Laura is a saint — effortlessly curing everything, while today Laura drowns in the madness of all her compulsive delights and dysfunctions.
But it’s fine, right?
I’ll figure it out later.
It must be later now.
Today Laura is finally taking care of future Laura.
Imagine that. Taking care of myself — what an alien concept. And right now, taking care of myself looks like this sleepless nightmare in detox.
How humiliating.
I’m using my sweatshirt as a pillow.
The one they gave me is thinner than a slice of Wonder Bread, and there are holes in the sheets.
You can never drink again, oh my god.
What am I going to do now?
Laura is co-creator and writer at The Wagon. She’s written for Newsday, ran a marathon and fallen off bar stools. At 3+ years sober, she currently lives on Long Island, NY with her husband and little dog.
