What a day, what a day.

This morning was weird. I woke up and came downstairs to finish a season of a show on Netflix that I started (last night, no judgement). I’m sitting there and actually paused the TV.

It’s odd the things you notice when you’re not drinking and trying to put your thoughts somewhere else.

All I could hear was the washing machine. Not just the washer going, but it’s cycle. The swooshing. The water filling up on the rinse cycle.

You know when the clouds cover the sun and the room gets dark for a minute? Those clouds moved and the sun came out, and as I looked at the window over the kitchen sink, I saw my hand lotion bottle. The sun was peaking through it and I saw it’s only half full. If that wasn’t the universe telling me something, I don’t know what is.

We went to a graduation/birthday party today. I had a hard time going. If it weren’t for how much I loved these kids, I would have stayed home. As we are getting ready I told TH we wouldn’t be staying long. “How come?” he asks me. I explained I’m not ready for parties yet. His response? “We can’t hide forever.”

It’s been 29 days.

I know that I’ve done this to myself. I do. But shit, I wish I didn’t. I know there is something wrong with me, and I wish there wasn’t. I wish I could be normal, but I can’t.

29 days isn’t forever. 3 months isn’t forever. A year isn’t forever. TEN years isn’t forever. But 29 days…..I need some help. I need some solid, home base support.

We go to the party. There was a lot said between TH and I this morning but I know it’s my own problem. Not his. No one else’s. Unfortunately, there’s no more 29 days.

Tomorrow is day 1.

I slipped.

At the party I saw some wine and I grabbed a glass. I poured it. And I sipped it. Not a lot. Just a few sips. My friend saw and came over, grabbed it, dumped it and filled the glass with water. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.

I fucked up.

Everyone came in the house to sing Happy Birthday. TH walks in, and I said “I’m having a glass of wine” even though it was only water at that point. He had to know I flushed the last month of sobriety down the shitter.

I’ll spare you the details, but this was one of the biggest fights we’ve had in 22 years. Long story short, I was told about everything I’ve put him and my kids through. How my kids had to take care of me when I passed out at my brother’s wedding last year. How he always has to take care of me. How they have been having to deal with this way longer than I have.

What kills me, is every single other person in my life is asking how I’m doing with not drinking. My parents. My brothers. My best friends. I told him “I need you to ask me how I’m doing. I need you to ask if I’m ok. I need your support.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask you every 10 minutes if you’re ok”

Ok, fair enough.

Me: “Maybe in the beginning I do need you to ask me. Ask me a lot. Ask me if I’m ok.”

His response was “then you need a babysitter, not a husband.”


Hopefully tomorrow, Day 1, will be better.

4 thoughts on “What a day, what a day.

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