They kept the shots coming throughout the whole show, and I kept accepting them. I remember thinking "Oh, it's okay, I don't feel drunk yet so I might as well have another." I slammed so many shots so quickly, I went from being stone cold sober to black-out drunk. The last thing I remember is leaving the party and walking back to my car.
I came to again 7 hours later. I was in my car, which apparently had just died, which is what woke me up. I was freezing, and had no more source of heat. I looked around, and discovered that I was parked somewhere downtown. I was wrapped in my show blanket in the front seat of my car. I had absolutely no idea how I had gotten there, but since it was now 3 in the morning, I knew I had missed my stag for Boy Agent. Still disoriented and shivering violently, I located my phone and checked my messages.
Things were not good.
"Agent: Why haven't u called the function yet?
Agent: They are calling me.
Agent: Are u there yet?
Agent: U don't show up tonite don't bother coming to work on the 28th."
Fuck! I was fucking done. This was it, I would no longer be working for that agency. This was just too much, there was no way I would be forgiven for this.
I saw that there were missed calls from Bf and from Agent, and a text from ExBf, asking if I was alright. Agent must have called him when I didn't show up. He had texted an hour and a half earlier, but I answered anyway.
"Kage: No, I am not okay, please help me."
I didn't get a reply. I knew I had to call someone for some help, I was already freezing and it was going to get worse. Plus, if a cop came along and found me in this state, I would be going to jail.
I considered calling Bf, but quickly dismissed the idea. I didn't want him to see me like this, yet again. My only other option was to call my parents. Mum answered on the fourth ring.
"Hello?" she said sleepily.
"Mummy, please help me," I howled. "I'm stuck in my car and I don't know where I am and the car won't turn on and I'm so cold!"
I heard her telling my father what was happening, then she came back on the line. "We'll call you back in a few minutes, when we're ready to leave," she said. "In the meantime, you need to figure out where you are."
"Ok," I shivered, and hung up. I looked outside, and was horrified by the thought of going out into the freezing cold alone, somewhere downtown, drunk and vulnerable. As I looked around, I saw that the building across the street had a web address on it's marquee. I grabbed my phone and got online, and entered the address for Personal Best Seminars. Ironic, I know. I got onto their website and got their address, which I copied and then texted to my mum. Then I wrapped myself back up in my blanket and started bawling uncontrollably.
They got there faster than I thought. Thank Christ for Personal Best putting their website on their marquee, I thought, or I would have frozen to death. Mum opened the door and guided me to the backseat of their car, while Dad tried to start my car. Of course, it didn't start, and so we locked it and left it where it was.
I lay across the backseat as we drove back to my parents house. This was getting too familiar, I thought. How many times had I lain across my parents backseat while they rescued me from myself? Too many. I prayed to God to please, please let this be the last time.
When we got to my parents' house, my mum made a bed on the floor of her office for me, and tucked me in with an electric blanket and the dog. I begged for some food, I hadn't eaten in so long it was making me feel sick. Dad brought me a cheese stick, which I ate while lying on my side in my makeshift bed. They turned out the light, and I finished my cheese stick and went to sleep.
As usual, they came in to wake me together. It was just before noon, and they had been busy - my car was in the garage, I had an appointment to go see a doctor, Mum had investigated eating disorder clinics and treatment centers for me. I felt my usual desire to procrastinate, to convince them that things weren't actually that bad, that this was a one-time slip up and it wouldn't happen again. But things were not okay, my eating disorder was raging out of control, and I had just blacked out from alcohol for over seven hours. I missed a show and was probably now fired from my job, and my poor boyfriend had no idea where I was and if I was okay. I was at rock bottom, I had pretty much lost everything, and I didn't want to keep going anymore. Normally I fight to protect my eating disorder with everything I have. But in the face of how much I had lost, and could still lose if Bf left me, I was ready to admit that I needed help. I couldn't do this anymore, this thing was bigger than me and had taken over my entire life. I had been considering asking for help for the past few weeks, and Shrink had even suggested that I get into a program this weekend. If not now, I thought to myself, then when? When my luck ran out and I killed someone driving in that condition? When Bf decided that no, he couldn't give me any more chances, and asked me to move out? When my heart gave out from too many years of disordered eating? The time was obviously now, if I turned away from the lifeline my parents were offering me, I knew that I would die this way. Either my eating disorder or alcoholism would claim me, or I would give in to the desperate desire that has been offering me relief for the past few weeks, and I would take my own life.
And so, I gave up. I stopped fighting. I told my parents the truth, and did everything they asked me to do, even if I thought it was pointless. I went to see the doctor, even though I knew there was no point, and agreed to go in to detox.