It’s black Friday. I am full and feeling gross. I, once again, did not control myself at dinner yesterday. Self control is something I don’t have. I smoke a pack a day, eat like a monster, and used to obsessively drink. I only quit drinking because the anxiety I felt when hungover made me borderline suicidal. I was smart enough to know that was not sustainable.

Once again I had to hold back tears through most of Thanksgiving. Not that anything bad happened, I just felt weepy. I get that way around holidays. That, and my mom has multiple cancers and is not doing well. She’s on a giant round of steroids that makes her chattier than normal and she was talking about how awful things are for her. She used to be so active, now she can barely walk. Soon, holidays won’t be the same, and that’s all I can think about. Never live in the moment, that’s my motto.

I know holidays are hard for everyone, but being a sober bipolar person in a family of neuro-normative drinkers is hard. I wanted that glass of wine, but I knew it would turn in to a bottle, and a bottle would turn in to two, and suddenly I’d be puking in my sister’s bed (not that I know that from experience…). So I went home early to feed my dog and obsessively smoke cigarettes until I felt like a human being. A coughing being, but a human one.

Today I am glad I didn’t drink. I guess I am thankful for that. I am thankful I didn’t cry. I am thankful that I have finally moved home and was able to spend a holiday with my family. I am thankful that today I can sit in my pajamas and watch reruns of My Name is Earl in silence.

I love my family, but I am thankful for solitude.