The weekend is over ...

... and tomorrow I have work (yuk!)

But I won't think about that. Instead, I'll think about the concert on Friday night, and the evening I spent with my friend - sober. It was a good evening, my friend's always good company, and I have always enjoyed this particular band. There was something missing, though, and I don't know if I'm right in what I'm thinking: that I didn't enjoy it as much as other times because I was sober and in control and therefore didn't throw myself into it and dance and let myself go. I don't mean let myself go in a drunken way and fall all over the dance floor, I mean just a couple of drinks would have loosened me up sufficiently to let go and dance. As it was, I sang along, shuffled my feet and I smiled and told my friend I'd had a good time, but actually I felt like an outsider and, looking back, it saddens me to think that if I can't control my drinking and have to give it up for good, I won't ever feel that pleasant buzz that allows me to let go a little bit.

But at least on Saturday I was up and dressed and headache free at a reasonable hour. Jay (from the weekend before's concert/chat marathon) came over for half an hour and talked solidly, even though I'd told her I couldn't hang around because I was going to a friend's for her birthday. I did manage to get away in time and it was great to see BA again - haven't seen her for a couple of weeks - and as soon as I arrived she gestured me into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine (she was deep in conversation with a neighbour) so I went to the fridge and decided to help myself to some apple juice instead. When BA saw that, she didn't press me to have a 'proper' drink. I did have a glass of wine with my lunch out, but just the one, and then I went onto diet coke. I felt good about that, but some of the sadness is still in me - sad that I wasn't able to drown my sorrows and laugh and enjoy the moment. I suppose what I'm saying is that I drink to blot out my sadness to allow me to enjoy the nice things that are going on around me - the lack of alcohol means there's nothing to keep the depression that is a part of my make-up at bay. I mean, the Prozac should be doing that, but I've cut down the dose over the last year and it's no longer having the desired effect. Maybe I'm trying to do too much, too soon. Maybe I'm feeling low because I have to go to work tomorrow and I hate it so much, and dislike the 2 people I have to share an office with. Maybe I am just so tired of everything being such a struggle - nothing is easy in my life, and nothing is really worth the struggle I have to put into each day just to come out of it intact.

I'm going to relax in front of the new adaptation of Jane Eyre that is starting in 5 minutes on telly and try to forget just how bloody miserable I am.

This isn't how I intended this blog to be today, I intended to give myself a pat on the back for controlling my binge-drinking this weekend, but I don't feel good. I should feel good and proud about it, but I don't.