I don't know where to start with this. I am sitting here writing this because it is Friday night and I am not at the bar. My husband is there with who-knows-who drinking I-know-whats and coming home who-knows-when. I am alone here because I am a binge drinker and I cannot handle being hammered with him. This sucks so badly and I don't even know how to make it better. I feel like it is a lose-lose no matter what - keep drinking and eventually have the fight that breaks the camel's back in our already fragile existence or give it up and lose him anyway. The only difference is who is the bad guy.
I hate being the bad guy... bad girl in this case I guess but lets not get technical in a blog that no one will read and in which I freely say the word fuck. I sit here with a pit in my stomach because I don't know when he will be home but I can't call to harp on him because he hates me right now. Because of last weekend. Because of any weekend that ended the way this one did. Because of booze.
I am not a daily drinker but I guess if you get fucking technical I am still considered an alcoholic. So is C, probably, just a different happier, more-controlled kind so his kind of alcoholism is somehow better in society's eyes. The difference is that I don't even like alcohol that much. He actually likes a beer at the end of the day, just to have beer. Like he would pick beer over something else to drink, even if it had no alcohol in it. Not this kid - I like drinking instead.
I like the act of drinking, the buzzed feeling that starts in my mouth like a numb tingly goodness and gradually spreads warmth throughout my being until I feel like I am filled with liquid gold. I like the way it makes everyone seem more interesting and everything more funny and how I feel like I can do anything. That is the problem. Because I cannot do fucking anything, drunk me just thinks I can. I cannot stop myself at three drinks. Oh sure, many times I can, more often than not by a long shot. But there is always that next time lurking around the corner when I lose track somewhere between 3 and 13 and end of skipping portions of the night so that they replay in flashes like postcards or portions of a dream that you try and remember. That time is what fucking wrecks my world. And no matter what I have tried, no matter how many plans I have in place, there always seems to be a next time. And that me, the crazydrunk me is a horrible person that screams at people or drives home with one eye open and wakes up with my head splitting and realizing that I have done it again.
Well this is my admission that I am lost. I have hid behind my justifications for too long and I can't anymore. I am married now and you can't just fight and make up or walk away like before. Words linger longer, cut deeper, leave scars that don't seem to fade no matter how much time passes. I used C's alcohol addiction and our lifestyle as a justification for me own drinking. He would tell me to stop and it fell on deaf ears because to me it was the pot calling the kettle black. Well the fucking pot is right even if he is black too and even if he has no intention of changing his own actions. He is just the lesser of two evils. I have a drinking problem. I have a drinking problem and I am terrified of what that means for my life and my relationship.
I need this, I need to be the strong one, to take the high road for my marriage. I can only change myself, right? That needs to be my damn mantra. Quit placing blame and own your own fucking actions. if you do that then no one can get mad at you because you weren't the one acting like a drunken dumbass. Let someone else be the bad guy. I am done being that person.
Will I fuck up? Maybe but I pray to God that I don't and I hope that getting this out puts it in perspective and gives me some sort of creative-alcoholic-outlet for my inner messedupness. God please help me, please. Help me figure this out and walk away from it. Let me find myself again without the bottle holding me up. Make me brave so I can address the questions from people with poise and strength. I want to make you proud and I desperately want to be someone my husband can like again. Please.
