It happened again. Another night like the one night stand. Only this time, I got drunk, drove into a pasture, puked all over myself, and woke up god knows how much later.

I didn’t get a job that I really wanted. I was so excited about the role, the opportunity to move back to the U.P. and work at my alma mater, and buying a house. When the call came, I sank.

I felt like I was getting that same horrid phone call all over again. Another loss, this time a job I didn’t even have, but wanted so desperately.

So, I turned to alcohol. I had five or six drinks. More than enough to know that I shouldn’t be driving. But I wasn’t thinking. I was in a major depressive state and nothing made sense.

The last thing I remember was eating lunch at Grille 44. After that, nothing.

When I woke up, I was scared. Covered in puke. Embarrassed. Confused. Mad at myself for being so stupid. So reckless.

Twice now, I’ve gotten absolutely obliterated and driven when I shouldn’t have. Neither time anything bad happened. Thankfully. But I know that I need to stop. Because the next time could be far worse.

I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep chasing temporary highs when I don’t want to feel anything. The void isn’t being filled.

But I don’t know what will fill the void I’m feeling. If anything. I think I need more help than I’ve allowed myself to receive. I think I need to get sober. I know I need to get sober.

Sobriety scares me. I love drinking. I love going out and having a cocktail. I love the social aspect of drinking. But I know that alcohol and I don’t have the best relationship. So far now, I’m bidding farewell to booze.

Communicator. Educator. Empath. Survivor. Writer.