getting better...

what the hell does that mean? it doesn't just mean giving up drinking, but just being better all around. achieving actualization... what would an actualized Dominic look like?

out there performing more often
making as many copies of his remade demo and soliciting them
going to the gym at least 4 times a week
eating consistently and healthy
staying on top of my meds...
working a normal day job
maintaining a strong support system and circle of friends
and yes, not relying on alcohol to drown out my problems.

it's terrifying, knowing there's no one that has my back. no one i can run to every once in a while and be held by, kissed, reassured. i don't need to be walked through things, hand held, but julio was my safespace... what am i gonna do now?

i guess this is day one?

day one finds me already awake, at work. woodenly i get through my audit, then try to kill time by watching the netflix rental of the day, Running With Scissors. i didn't love it, but i managed to fidget through it without fast forwarding.

hungry i picked up some noodles from across the street, doctoring it up with some hard-boiled eggs from the pantry. right now i'm listening to my new heavy rotation playlist, and reading a fantasy novel i purchased from amazon a few weeks ago.

funny, all the things i was trying to do to make the distances shorter... i tried getting us to read books together, sent music files, gave my self little gift projects to make for him... made plans for weekends that may or may not happen, and to what end? he says i should have been thankful that he even showed up. but i was there too. and i still went the extra mile. but the extra mile was necessary for it to work. availability isn't enough, but of course i was being needy, and petty, and childish. he told me to grow up. get better. that i was an alcoholic. always telling me what i need to do, but he resents me whenever i ask for anything.

ugh. i need to stop talking about it. what are my plans for the day? i haven't a clue. i know i'll be going to sleep at some point, but dread the tossing and turning that's sure to come for many weeks... half asleep with the crazy hope that the phone would ring, only to be disappointed that it's someone else. and of course i'm a loser for being this way. good thing i have sleeping pills. thinking is for the conscious, and i don't want to think about it.

i worry for the weekend. what am i gonna do with these days off? another reminder of my loss. and me trying not to drink... will it be for nothing?