Broken Glass Park
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I went a little crazy this weekend, meaning I drank a little. I drank 8 White Claws Saturday. You know, you got some *beep* screeching in the hallway from 8:30 to 9:30 Saturday morning about someone clogging up the toilets. I cant handle that kind of stress. I just started drinking and laughing about it. Of course, that night, I hear people accusing me AGAIN of not flushing the toilets. Because I go to the bathroom every 5 minutes, is what they said. Yeah, I pee a lot, but I do flush the toilet. Find another scapegoat. I know this shit is petty, but I'm going through the trauma of my husband dying. I dont need this shit, nor can I handle it very well. Drinking 8 very foo-foo beers is not the worst I can do, but it's not the best, either.
Yesterday, I only drank 4 and half a 24 of Labatt' s. I knew I wanted to drink less and I'm glad I did. I have more back-up beer. I know that isn't good, but I got through my weekend. Now, I have to get through work. 😝
The good thing is, I am in a good mood, but what I hate about work and society in general, is that if I show any joy at all, they will try to bring me down. I don't know why this is the case, but sadly, it seems to be. It's one thing to have to hide anger and I understand that I should suppress that emotion and find a healthy release for it (such as this journal, 😉), but suppressing joy? Especially now, when I actually feel it again? That fucking sucks!!!
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