On being angry when emotionally cornered
I hate this but I am filled with rage right now. I’m angry that I’m a little toasted and feeling like a prisoner in my own home. I place that I fully pay for (let alone my studio) by working two jobs for countless hours over the years. I am filled with rage because this hard work is so often disrespected by benign neglect or outright accusations of being too proud, too braggadocious by the person I share my bed with.
As is true for a lot of drinkers, alcohol can allow me to access my feelings in ways that I am so good a repressing when sober. Sober, I can take a deep breath, stretch, eat something, or tune out into my phone or tv. Drunk me goes into a fight response.
I used to be a happy drunk, the first drink tingling through my system causing everything to be funny. My face would beam. I would giggle incessantly. Then I’d be off to bed with a light heart. I can still be like that occasionally.
It’s when I’m drunk and angry that you have to watch for. If you’re picking fights with me (not physical mind you, I’m not that kind of person) you better be prepared with what could happen. I might slur my speech but I do not mince words. I become sharp tongued and always go for the kill shot. This is especially true if I’m texting. Some nights I wouldn’t remember the fight but would always be amazed (and a little angry at myself) with how clear and to the point I was, and how viciously I made that point. One of the first things I learn about people is their weak spots. It’s a strange talent. And I’m pretty open about mine. But if you poke at mine, believe me, I will rip open yours. Drunk me doesn’t have time for people trying breaking me down. I do enough of that on my own and don’t need anyone’s help, thank you.