Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

July 5

July 5

This morning was better than yesterday. Not much better – considering I woke up around 5 a.m., and had to practice deep breathing exercises to calm down from a minor anxiety attack after I thought about my behavior this past weekend – but, at least I got some sleep. I also made myself a lunch to bring to work. Where's my medal?

For some reason, I also deleted all dating apps from my phone this morning. You know how Apple claims that over a billion apps have been downloaded from the App Store? Well, that's actually just me – constantly downloading, deleting, and then re-downloading Grindr and Tinder. Truth be told, I wanted to delete all of my social media apps today, too. This type of digital blackout typically occurs after a major bender.

The slight improvement on my outlook didn't last very long. I wasn't even at work for 15 minutes before I had left the building in tears. After settling into my office, I went to the front desk to speak with Niall about the schedule he made for this week. You know, the one where he had me working until 3 a.m. on a Friday.

My discussion with Niall was like talking to a fucking brick wall. I thought I was being somewhat reasonable with my approach, as I obviously knew it was going to be an unpleasant conversation the minute I looked at the schedule. However, I also didn't want to come off like a pussy. I think some of Natasha or Chelsea Handler rubbed off on me this weekend.

This is a side note, but it's been on my mind a lot. I think I crossed the line from "sassy" into "bitch" territory this weekend, but I can't really remember. I just know that I was really blunt with everyone I interacted with during the latter half of Sunday. It's not a bad thing, but I don't want to be a confrontational asshole. I want to be funny. But, maybe some people don't consider me barking, "You're a fucking mess," at them to be humorous. I don't know.

I also feel kind of bad for how I acted with Evan's friend/mistress on Saturday night. Even though nothing would have happened between them, I was kind of a bitch about the whole thing. I probably embarrassed Evan. Furthermore, to then make out with the guy afterwards wasn't exactly my finest hour. Fuck.

As I mentioned before, I don't really remember much from this weekend. I'm not sure if I'm being paranoid, or if I actually crossed a line with Evan. That's definitely the worst part about blacking out – not knowing what you said or did. I can deal with the hangover. I'll recover from the cuts, scrapes, and/or ATM overdrafts. I hate not knowing what I said or how I acted, though. I still don't understand how one is able to function as a presentable human being when intoxicated with that many substances. Do I not look like a complete mess?

Anyway, back to work.

I spoke with Niall about the schedule. To sum it up, this was basically how our conversation went down:

"This is this, and that is that," Niall said. "This is the service industry, and that is how things work. You knew about this when you signed on to work here. Too bad. It is what it is. There will be no changes in operation going forward."