But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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A Drunken Night

Baley and I went to the mall to find a job for her. We stopped at about twenty different places, but it seems that everyone has already hired their holiday help. When we arrived at her house later her mom didn't seem to be proud, and then demanded that Baley give her her care to use the next day, because her battery died. Baley bought her own car with her own money. And her mom won't let her go home to her dad's side of the family for the holidays in Illinois. I told her that she has to let her go, that it isn't legally her choice.
"Gwen, you have seen my mom."
And I have. Baley cried as we drove back to my apartment. Her dad died when she was 13, while Baley was out celebrating her birthday. She came home to find him dead. He died of diabetic complications, due to not taking care of his diabetes on July 24th, my birthday. (Baley's birthday is two days before mine, and she celebrated it two days later.) For years she took care of him alone, because even her mom couldn't handle it.
I wished that there was something I could do. I offered to buy her a ticket. We talked about ways to get her there. But no... She can't go against her mother's wishes. It is amazing the control our mothers have over us.
Later Matt and Joseph came over. Joseph convinced me to just have one drink with brandy, so I did. I didn't feel anything, so I mixed myself another. Then Joseph said I was being a wuss, so I made another, and smoked a bowl. I didn't realize how disgustingly harsh it is.I filled my third cup almost full of brandy, and within an hour, probably after nine or ten ounces total, I was beyond ill. I was next-door with about five guys and two girls, and suddenly I couldn't make sense of anything, and no one else made sense at all, so I closed my eyes. And I felt like I was falling and floating into nothing. Then I heard people talking to me, and I just couldn't say anything back to them. I had already been up 24-hours at this point, and I just wanted nothing...
Nausea, trembling, hot and cold. Legs shaking, jaw chattering. I look, and I am on a carousel in my room. Focus. Everything spins. Dry heaves. I speak, but the words recede. Then a low, mournfull cry leaves my lips, "Am I going to die?" Baley cries too. She cries because she is worried and because she is mad that this happened. She tells me I have to throw up. I can't move. I know I must, so I stick my fingers down my throat right in front of her while she holds the pail under my lips.
"Good girl, You can do it."
I have never actually had someone cheer me on for vomiting before, and the irony of it brings a grin to my face. I sober up quickly. My heart still pounds and races, but I am okay. Matt comes to talk to me about the meal he is going to cook for me and Baley tonight, and insists on feeding me the yogurt when my blood sugar dips low. "You need to have a good meal. I can't imagine what you eat. It's sad. Oh God, when I look in your fridge..."
A 3:00am conversation with the two closest friends I have up here. You know who your true friends are when one spoon feeds you yogurt at an ungodly hour, and the other holds your hair for drinking too much.
All things considered, I suppose I am lucky. I take too many medications that say, "Do not drink while taking this medication," or, "Do not mix with alcohol" and I also took fourteen energy pills to keep me up for my final. So yes, I am lucky that I am okay, and I am alive. I feel so grateful for a tolerant body.

7:18 AM - Wednesday, Dec. 15, 2004
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dying - living