Day 9, I think...

Time to catch up. Where to begin? Well, Wednesday was a good day and I got a lot of things crossed off my to-do list, which felt great. But then the youngest boy got home from school and proceeded to be such a schmuck, a hardcore delusional idiot, that I am simply beside myself with truly awful feelings. I am sick about this. I would give just about anything to NOT feel these stupid feelings. Fear, sadness, disappointment, anxiety, anger, humiliation, regret, shame, frustration, all the shitty feelings. God, this sucks. And the worst part is I don’t know what to do about it. Except drink. But I’m not. At least, not today.

That’s not entirely true. Well, the part about not drinking is true. Haven’t had a drop, yet! And this means I am thinking clearly, in spite of all the shitty emotions. And with a clear head, an idea came to me. (I notice this happens when I’m sober.) I figured I should sit down with him and search online to find the admission requirements he thinks he has covered but I know he totally doesn’t. Yes, that’s something I can do.

So I did. And we had a decent conversation about his plans for after high school. By “decent”, I mean it became very apparent that the boy has no clue. At all. But OK.

I survived that day. Some, OK a lot, of discomfort. But I didn’t drink. And I was glad I didn’t.

Then Thursday happened, as it always does after Wednesday. It was a Payton day. I get to enjoy my Mimi time with the most precious grandbaby in the entire universe. She is so good for me.

But the husband was off that day and by early evening was happily imbibing. Now, I get it. He has his own issues, struggles, reasons for drinking. And thank God we understand each other. However, that doesn’t make it any easier to tolerate a drunk hubbie while I work very hard to abstain. I do not expect him to quit like me or at the same time. To be honest, I don’t think he can. At least, not forever, as I suspect will be the case for me. No, he enjoys the taste of whiskey waayyy too much. I just hope that in a few years, once he retires, his evenings of excessive drinking will wane as the stress of the job fades.

Back to Thursday evening. I hated it. I despised everything about it. It rubbed me all kinds of wrong ways. And I couldn’t do one thing about it. Like I said, I won’t ask him to stop. So I used it as an opportunity to talk about my drinking. I know he doesn’t love it when I do this. But it’s all I can do when he’s drinking too much and I’m not drinking at all.

The conversation went alright. He never argues what I’m saying about my problem drinking. And he always freely admits to his own. Easy to do when you’re drunk. But still. I was mad. I was fed up. I hate that way of life. Losing control every evening only to fight through the insomnia and wake with a hangover and self-hatred.

Which brings me to Friday. Something about Fridays ALWAYS makes me want to drink. And drink too much. I have some idea of what this is all about but I am far from understanding it. I only know this is one of the GIGANTIC things I must figure out in order to get to the bottom of my problem drinking.

When Friday happens, it’s like the launch sequence has been activated. I admit, the drunk husband the night before probably initiated the launch request. Then Friday’s arrival only meant it was “a go”.

I drank that night. I used a gorgeous Chardonnay to get shit-faced as quickly as possible. Nowadays, when I am week and have a drink, I down it as if it was a healthy glass of pulp-free orange juice in the morning. Without the vodka. Just gulp, gulp, gulp. I’m nothing if not efficient. Quickest route from tense to careless? I got this. Sober and able to deal with life’s little problems to wasted and unable to even remember what I’m saying as I’m saying it? Done. I excel at going from sane to sloshed in no time flat.

This time, I noticed a little extra “icing on the cake”. As if completely ruining my evening and night to come were not enough, I begin to recognize how fucking pissed I am. And from the very start. Part paranoia, part pissyness, I was only getting more and more mad as I drank. Now, I know these are all text-book symptoms and side effects of alcoholism at this stage. I’m not special. And I’m not alone. But it’s pretty shitty just the same.

So there, I got it out of my system. (More on that later.) I’m trying to prep myself for this Friday. To practice specific strategies for coping. Ones that do not involve me cracking open a bottle of anything. I will sit. Like a toddler on time-out, I will sit down. It’s OK to take a break.

I have my music, a candle, sparkling water, books, magazines, writing, cleaning, creating, dogs, a nap, hot chocolate. I can do this. I will keep going.

And I do. Last night proved to be quite rewarding. After a long day of too many people and way too much input for both of us, we resisted the urge to have anything at all to drink and instead enjoyed the peace and quiet. We took a break! And then a bit more of a break. Some debriefing of the day, a dip in the hot tub, and then some nuggles on the couch. Soooo much better than getting shit-faced and falling into bed for a crappy night’s sleep.

Now here we are at Monday. And not just any old Monday. This one has the youngest on a two-night camping trip with his class, the adult son off at work all day, and the husband for the next two days. I have the place to myself! Ahhhh, I do kinda miss this type of Monday when I would anticipate much excess drinking and almost no one to answer to for it. Instead, today, I look forward to getting all manner of shit done and then relaxing with my “Mom” on TV before settling in for an EASY fend-for-yourself (FFY) dinner with my oldest boy. Heck, let him have the kitchen to whip up whatever he feels like. Then I can tackle some wedding prep projects (daughter marries next month!) while catching up on my AGT (the husband hates that show so I spare him). Finally, rejoicing in a sober bedtime.

Yes. Let’s do this.