Two years ago yesterday (the 7th), the second of two major hammer blows landed in my life and I splintered. I don’t do that. But I did.
Two years ago tonight, I drank myself into alcohol poisoning (not on purpose). It was the first and only time I’ve ever lost control of my drinking. I kept expecting to feel better as I drank (I don’t often but when I do, I’m always that annoyingly cheery drunk) — but that night, it didn’t even dull the grief to a tolerable ache.
It was stupid and I scared my brother, who kept vigil. [I don’t keep liquor in the house anymore.]
Tonight, I’m knitting myself a scarf, reading a book, and listening to Pandora.
Kintsukuroi in progress.
I’ll take it.