_{“I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.” -Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart}

I came across this quote and I began to think about the moment when I first read this book, which was around six months ago. I understood what Murakami’s character was describing, but I couldn’t truly feel it because I hadn’t experienced it yet- until now.

This feeling of being disassembled and quickly reassembled is how I feel. Waking up knowing that the ultimate goal is to make it into work. Everything in between is rushed and a blurr.

Shuffling for socks in my drawer, falling over while putting my jeans on, giving my dog food while I brush my teeth, trying to find my keys, chugging a glass of water, rushing my dog to the bathroom, running upstairs, yelling fuck every second, getting into my car, running back upstairs to get my glasses, giving my dog one last kiss, and finally making it to work… before majority of the office..

Hungover.

Coffee and water to get me through the morning. Fast food to help with my anxiety in the afternoon. Another few beers to help me feel better in the evening.

The viscous cycle that will make you feel like you are no longer you. The longer you repeat this cycle the longer you will begin to forget your life before alcohol. Ahem, welcoming all my alcoholics. The ones who until they had their first sip of alcohol or of feeling buzzed never felt like they belonged.. This quote made describes the feeling of trying to remember what we were like before someone came while we were asleep disassembled us, then quickly put us back together. It’s how I have felt ever since I fell in love with alcohol and the only time I have ever felt assembled was when I drank again. Just like the quote, I have always felt like someone or something came while I was asleep, transfigured me, and never put me back to my original state.

But who would be so cynical to do that to another human being? Try ourselves… who else?

If you have understand me so far, this is what I mean by ourselves and who else. It is not the beauty that our loved ones find in us that pours the savory band aid of alcohol on our heart, but the darkness within us that rips the band aid off and lets it bleed in a pool of alcohol.

No matter what circumstances we will ever be in, an alcoholic would much rather choose a late, cold night walk to get alcohol than to be in a family gathering in a warm living room. Because when everybody goes to sleep and we were left alone, it was the warm buzz; the blockage of pain; the forgetting of yesterday and tomorrow; the never ending desire of wanting more that kept us feeling so present and grounded.

We were, or are, in a never-ending trance of bliss– until we awake with our head banging, with guilt of not knowing what we said to a loved one, with a thirst for water, with a feeling of shame.. Shame for having disregarded anybody else but ourselves. We have all had someone take care of us for a night. What a fuckin troop they were to pick up after someone who can’t even pick up for themselves. Yeah.. and the heart-wrenching feeling we know is that we never let our inner-beauty flourish. We keep our potential for life and ourselves so minimal.

Who knows if we will ever feel put back together. We may always feel disassembled, but there are so many of us that feel like this. I believe we are all born like this until something comes and makes us feel normal again. I am also convinced that the void of living without alcohol will commence in my life so long as I let it back in my life. If it means this much to you as it does with me, then you will hurt with me when I say that, nothing will ever fill the void in me like alcohol did, but nothing will ever bring such destruction in my life as it did, too.