Alone, finally, thank Goddess

I've wanted to spend some time alone- but with so little time to give to those I care about, it's hard to ask for it. Its one reason I love airport time- solo time in a crowd.*warning- this post may go odd directions- please no "hugs" or any of that crap*I avoided the booze at SantaCon today, because I drank too much last night. I drank even more at the Yum Party. I'm getting back into my Friday night drinking binges again. I keep having to fight, conciously, the urge to drink when I am home, or out, or hell, anywhere.Mi Padre is an alchoholic. He gave up booze, got on meds for his BiPolar, and found God.My grandfather drank himself to death strapped to his dialysis machine... they say it was an accident- who who accidentally downs a fifth of JD while attached to a machine?My father's brother was a drug dealer for many yearsMost of his family is or was users of booze and many far less legal substances.Mi Madre is a wino, and drinks when she gets lonely... and has a huge dusty and not so dusty wine bottle collection.My grandmother used to drink college kids under the table as a bartender back in her days involved with the mob and trying to raise 5 kids on the res.In the past year I have lost 2 friends that I knew but never as well as I'd hoped to Heroin.I've lapsed and gone back to pot twice this year, since having not done anything harder than booze since I was living in the UK.I used to be a user of halucinagins, and miss it when reality is so heavy.I laugh and tell funny stories when I drink.I ride my mania.I love riding my mania- it is one of my strongtest tools... I can work for 2-3 days straight in exchange for a crash at the end.I sing, when I'm not reminded of being abandoned by my old singing partners (who have since moved on, had kids, we all grow up)There was a simplicity to the equation:ScoreSet aside two daysDance, party, sing, try not to kill anyone, write prose when out beyond the edgeSee and love and be and plunge into our demonsSpend a day recoveringPlan on the next weeks plansRevel in the memories of skin becoming feathers and my form taking flightI've had very sobering momentsSomeone almost bleeding to death in my dormHaving Luke stop me from killing the homophobeRealizing that Christian and I had no memory of a life-changing conversation we sharedWatching folks freak, icluding myselfAlmost getting myself pregnantSeeing my fears in the mirrorI've seen things that can not beand had it have nothingto dowith drugsLoveWarTanks rolling byHis fur turning goldLightning strikemy wings on the windIt's why I gave the other crap up, right? To live the surreality that is my life.But when I feel the pressure, want to just run, hide, flee...And I promised the Furry One that I wouldn't literally run away any more.Promised mi madre, as I stood age 7, that I would stop running away at nightand I tie the cord around my ankles tighter.And then I look in the mirrorand the dance trance of run away hide into a bottle or out where no one knows youchange run hide go go gobegins againYeah, glad to be alone for a nightTo just workcrybe productive between glances at the bottles on the shelf