I’m sitting outside, early on this cool but muggy June morning in the middle of nowhere in Italy. It is 00:51. My sister got married yesterday. No. I guess it’s two days ago now. Everyone’s in bed. Everyone. The last two nights lots of people stayed up until five or six a.m. Not me. I was a good girl. I did drink. Two or three drinks. And I am an alcoholic, so that’s ‘wrong’ or something, but I went to bed. Here we are.

It’s the last night for everyone in the wedding party in this village. From what I can tell, everyone has had a blast. It was an amazing wedding. The weather was perfect on all days. The venue and surrounding area are fabulous. I hadn’t seen any of her friends for 15-20 years. Most of us slipped right together like gloves, even though we hadn’t known each other well in the first place. The kids all got on amazingly well. I said goodbye to my oldest tonight. She asked me with a worried look if Wales (where her wedding bestie is from) was far from Chicago. When I told her it was, the biggest tears formed in her eyes.

In some ways it will be nice to get back to normal, in other was not. The wedding was relatively small. Maybe 50 people. In that mix were Irish, Scottish, English, Welsh, French, German, Danish, Belgian, Canadian, Italian, American, and Mexican. I spoke, or at least attempted to speak, six languages over those ten days. That was wonderful. I just tried my best and pushed on true. Somehow I made myself understood enough to survive.

As usual, this post has become a meandering monologue about something other than I had initially intended. I thought I would talk about the fact that I had ended up drinking alone again. That I knew I was in danger. Putting myself in danger. Put that I was really in control. That I knew I was now, but that I wouldn’t be for long. And that being out of control in the middle of nowhere Italy, was a lot more dangerous than being so two minutes from Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago. The plan is to be in control completely.

I had hoped my brother, sister’s, cousin, her husband, sister’s friends and I would all be here. I really enjoy all these people’s company. I guess everyone has early starts in the morning. We’re not flying out tomorrow thankfully. We’re driving down to Roma, and staying the night before flying out on Monday.

I miss socializing so much. And I don’t. There are several things at play. First – I love the craic, having fun, the lubricant of alcohol included. Second – I hate being around people. Depression has made me yearn for solitude. Third – I want to want love. Even though I’m scared to be with loved ones. I still know I should be near them sometimes.

And so I sit. In Sala dei Gelati. In Salice Terme. In Italy.Drinking a Heineken. Smelling the smoke Italians are still allowed smoke on their patios. Listening to their lovely boisterous language. On this beautiful Saturday evening (Sunday morning). Reminding myself I’m an alcoholic. Telling myself to go easy. Telling myself this is the last day of my vacation. Trying to figure out where the line is. The line between being able to rationalize like this, and having gone too far. Gone so far I cannot cut myself off. I will not stop myself going to a club where most of the clientele are half my age. I will arrive ‘home’ at 5am, and be unable to share the drive to Roma tomorrow.

Where is that line? I just ordered another Heineken. I’m fine. For now. For now. For now…

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