The joys of alcoholism

 

I have three different opinions on every subject. I have one opinion when I’m drunk, and another opinion when I’m hungover, and another opinion when I’m sober.

It occurred to me:  One of the really disorientating things about alcoholism is that it imposes this weird schitzo/split-personality on the chronic drunkard.  This Dr. Jeckyll/Mr. Hyde trip.  I realize I have three basic, distinct personalities.  None of which fits along with the others.

There’s 1.) the Flying High Drunk personality.  Where I’m buzzed and feeling no pain and gassing off, flights of fancy,  totally in the moment and I don’t give a flying fuck about anything, experiencing incredible soaring highs, going up, up, up.

Then there’s 2.) the Waking up Hung-over and Shattered personality.  My body chemistry is all hay-wire, I’m filled with dread and insecurity, completely stripped of the confidence and power I reveled in the night before, sinking down, down, down.

Then there’s 3.) the Around Noon Feeling Semi-Normal personality.  I got some food and coffee in me, I’m fairly stable and normal, taking care of the mundane business of my life and just sort of shuffling along.

Being an alcoholic can be like living with three room-mates in your head, who are all incompatible with each other, but somehow have to get along anyways.  “Hey Personality #3, did you hear about the big mess that that asshole Personality #1 made last night while we were sleeping, and now you have to clean it up!”

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