𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝟮 ⁑ t.holland

24. withdrawal

A lot of people told me I'd start feeling better. That the migraines, the sleepless nights, the throwing up-- it would all go away eventually. For the most part, I thought I didn't have the right to argue with them about the thing that ruined my life. I had to stay quiet and deal with it because, quite frankly, I deserved it.

Ever since I left Portland, alcohol was the one thing I could depend on when shit got a little too hard for my liking. Of course, I met Andrea soon enough, and then Monica, Gem Records, so on and so forth... but, from day one, a simple drink kept me from losing my mind. 
I knew deep down it wasn't good, that I shouldn't get too attached because even the thing that brought me so much peace in a moment of complete chaos and stress could become deadly. I knew all of this but I still chose to push it aside.

I told myself it wasn't a big deal, that this drink wouldn't kill me. But then, another one came... and another... and another... until I was 11 shots deep and was too out of it to even walk to the bathroom properly. 

I've tried stopping before, trust me. I was just so angry. Not at my mom, or even Tom, to be honest, but the world. I was mad that the universe chose to give me these opportunities without warning me about all the shit that comes along with it. 

It gave me the opportunity to make myself heard but forgot to mention the horrible things people will say in return. The number of people practically begging for me to slit my wrists until I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood. It gave me talent but forgot to bring up how I'd be constantly compared to every other damn artist out there. It gave me the fame, gave me the money, but never warned me about no longer having any privacy.

I missed every single warning and began running a damn marathon before I even knew how to walk. I was over-confident and so fucking stupid and I'm paying the price for it now.
These missed red flags forced me into a corner where the only way out was by drinking my way to the top. So, that's exactly what I did. 

I did that for years and years on end, telling myself that this drink will be my last. 
Now? Now, I don't even remember my last drink, and I think it's for the best.

It will all be fine in the end but right now, I feel like shit. 
It feels as though my head might explode at any moment and if I try to stand up or even open my eyes sometimes, everything goes dark. My stomach begins to turn and I'm running to the toilet or the nearest trashcan to throw up the last bit of poison lingering in my system.

Most of the time, I had help. I didn't think I deserved it but this part of it all wasn't my fault. I fell into a trap and wasn't warned about any of it and now I'm paying the price. Although I believed everything I've ever done was my fault, Tom, Monica, Andy, even Harrison thought otherwise.

Monica let me work from home so that's what I did. There were a few meetings here and there that I couldn't miss but other than that, I got to stay home. 
Tom made sure to stick around, remind me to drink water and take my meds.

It was nice having him around. There was a lot to talk about when it came to our relationship, but, for the time being, we were just happy to have one another. We were grateful to have found each other again and I wasn't ready to push that. 
I just wanted to enjoy this time with him, wherever that would eventually bring us. 

It's weird thinking about it that way. Makes me feel so much more mature.
Before, I'd start stressing about whatever the hell comes next. But now, I find myself just living in the present.

Just like those cheesy Pinterest quotes.

I've spent almost three weeks trying not to puke my brains out but it came to a point where I had to show up to Gem's regularly. Meetings, recording sessions, interviews-- all of it. I was miserable but I knew it'd get better. That's the only thing that kept me afloat at this point.