Today is my 7th day of getting off the booze again. It's been a weird one this time, in that I've never felt this tired. Research has told me that it has to do with my body having so much refined sugar suddenly yanked away. Much like a kid who's been eating now n' laters for years for breakfast, lunch and dinner now switched to solid foods. Like a steak. You break out in sweats. And that's what's happening.
The physical ailments:
I feel a lot of congestion behind my eyes
I am paralyzed with fatigue
I zone out
I can't recall simple things
Anxiety
depression
and the rest...
I also snap at people, because now I sense I'm really hyper-aware of others who interrupt my sentences OR just the slightest slight, I get pissy. That just may be that I'm getting older as well. I HATE people telling me how the world is when I know how the world is (yet I know shit about how the world is).
I read recently that it may also be the result of a fatty liver. That would be awful. Without sounding like a hypochondriac, it is indeed a scary thing. There is a fine line between that AND cirrhosis. Damage, in regards to one, is irreparable.
Let's flashback to the blurry night for which we went out hunting for women. The night where I met the girl I'm seeing now. Y'know what, forget that...let's flash forward to the morning...
...I woke up absolutely paralyzed. A sharp pain in my upper chest to which I can't explain other than I felt what death must feel like. It wasn't so much that it was sharp, is that it was rolling. As if my body kept wanting to expunge the pain. I've only heard of this when reading about another person who drank heavily, and his pancreas exploded releasing droplets of stomach acid that destroyed his lower colon. Ugh. But that's how I felt. I kept thinking of that scenario over and over again. I don't think I've felt this bad before. And I was sweating profusely. I covered myself in a towel and still felt drenched. I rushed to the sink, only to vomit out everything in my stomach (which was nothing since I forgot to eat that night). It was a large amount, but only water. It came rushing out. And instead of feeling better, I went back to sweating. Then the shakes kicked in. Oh boy...the shakes. I was tightened up in a ball, trying to figure out the best angle to sleep. There was no relief out of ANY angle. Maybe face down. But my stomach was pulsating. I just got done watching "Prometheus" and that scene where Shaw has her stomach Cesarian'd out...yeah...it was like re-living it. It was gruesome.
I basically passed out the entire Sunday and then re-woke as I had survived that night. The instant relief and gratification that I wasn't going to die in my boxer briefs while holding desperately to a towel is insurmountable.
So I decided to call it quits for a while.
That night was more fascinating to me, in that...it wasn't that night that stopped me from drinking. believe it or not, that very same night I polished off a few more beers. What it did show me was that I really had to know true pain from drinking before I knew I didn't have to cycle through it again...like that. It was a living horror show. And I think to myself, that if I died that night, with so much left to accomplish, I'll be pissed. Yeah, dead and pissed, what a goofy thought.
I'll admit that this ass-dragging fatigue is alarming. It's like an anchor. I can't control certain things when it hits me how tired I am. Almost like narcolepsy.
I did this to myself. And I'm fixing to undo it.
I went to read on a website recently everyone who suffers from this debilitating fatigue. It's not a pretty forum. Everyone I read about looks back on their lives and candidly regrets. I heard somewhere recently, that is what is the most destructive thing in the world...regret. I think it was "Men In Black 3" which is a pretty good movie. I think regret is about forcing yourself onto the right path. Or at least, making aware that our survival wasn't meant to go with volunteer suffering. It was meant to live a content life and share experiences with others. And maybe leave a legacy that carries on your name. I think we all seek to further our lives. I mean, otherwise, what is the reason for living. Is it something we just drudge along waiting for the inevitable or make the most of it while we're here.
There's a guy at work who is waiting for the latter. I feel so bad for him, because he lives in deep regret. And is brutally honest about it. The fact is that he believes in cryogenics. And although I don't have enough research to argue it's merits, I do know that I don't want to chance the next life when the one I was given now hasn't played itself out. To me, it's a cop out. Not cheap, mind you. But people seem to want to cheat what nature has given us.
Yeah, there are no answers to tragedies that happen. If death were to befall us on any hour of any given day, what can you draw on your life to accept was worth that trip here.
Yeah, you think stupid shit like this when you sober up. Could be all that lack of refine sugar talking.
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