Apart from having gotten as drunk as possible since Monday afternoon, I haven't done very much. Took all the birds I could into the centre, but they keep coming in from all over. Actually, drunk as possible is a bit of a misnomer - I am drinking huge quantities with no effect at all, other than eventually passing out about two hours after my large amount of evening meds. I wake up at about 04h00 thinking OMG, why did I do that, but after getting out of bed and drinking as much water as I possibly can, I go back to sleep and wake up feeling no worse than I feel every damn day of the past two years.
P-doc will be unimpressed though. Not only the drinking, but I have ripped up my arm with the razor blade every day since Friday. I have run out of left bicep. I have cut the 3 long Adidas stripes on the left forearm every day for four days. I am now about halfway down the forearm with the neat, 2 mm apart stripes. Only consolation is that - as always -the cuts are clean and neat and shallow, and will heal up within a few days. Asshole. Funnily enough, I don't cut anywhere except my arm, and -maybe because I'm right-handed - it's almost always the left arm. Last time in hospital I ran out of left arm completely, and started on the right - which made having blood pressure taken a somewhat painful procedure.
Saw t-doc today, asked for sooner than scheduled. Couldn't talk about anything though, because there isn't anything to say. So it's more just a mental hug than anything else. She wants me to think about a time-out in hospital again. No point. It's a hospital, with a half-assed pretence at a psych ward. There are only two points in its favour - I see p-doc twice most days, albeit very briefly, and I would probably not drink. Not that I couldn't. Hell, the first time I was there I was desperate for decent food, and ended up driving down the road for a steak and a few beers, and they never even noticed. But if I'm going to do it, then not drinking is a kind of moral obligation. As well as a good idea. And as always, I will have the lengths of pool hose stashed behind the seats. Just in case. And in case is so close to being reality.
Have had two strange conversations today. One with ex p-doc, whose farm I lived on for 3 years, and whose family dog was Whiz's mother. Texted him to ask if I could take Whiz's ashes back there, to spread down at the river, and he phoned just now. He's not living there anymore, business deal with a friend went sour, and amongst everything else, he lost the farm. But he's working as a p-doc again, after a bit of a break, and sounds as if he's getting back on track.
The other was with ex-boss from the IT job. We had/have a strange relationship. I told him, and everyone else around, that he was an asshole, and we fought bitterly for a year. He then ended up in a position where it became important to get me on site at the main client, and working on other clients as well, and within about 6 months he won me over completely. He is one of the best bosses I have ever had. Not for most people, but he motivated me completely. And then the last few months that we worked together, we ended up having the strangest cyber-sex relationship. Literally, out of nowhere - just happened one day, completely unexpectedly. It was his decision though, that it would never go any further - that talking sex and fantasies and everything was one thing, but that he would never even consider anything more, because of being married. Hell, I would have jumped his bones in a microsecond, if he'd agreed. I phoned him today about something random, and caught him in a very blue mood. He took a flier on giving up the corporate world to start an IT business with his wife, and basically it's gone down the tubes. Yesterday he sold his house, days before the bank foreclosed. Last week his wife walked out on him, taking one of their daughters. The older one refused to leave her dad. The church for which he did untold hours of free work has virtually ignored him. He is flattened, because he is a traditional Boerseun, to whom family and church were the pillars of life. And he's lost them along with business and house and financial well being. And as a white mid-40's male in South Africa, he is at the bottom of the hiring list. Maybe one of the people that's been chasing me will be willing to talk to him, I hope so.
So now, it's about time I worked on getting seriously wrecked, and take the meds, including the benzo's I begged for, and then maybe I can call an end to today.
Something has to break soon. Just not sure what, or how, or whether I get lucky and the break is fatal.