Being a binge drinker?
It's the worst part of my life.
I drink. I feel relaxed. I drink more. I feel...
suicidal.
ugly.
worthless.
angry.
unworthy.
It's the worst part of my life. I didn't answer the phone this morning when dh called from being on TDY today because I was sleeping in the bedroom and was too sick to get up. He left four messages. I can hear the tension in his voice. The fear.
I hate myself for it.
"Were you drinking?" he asked.
YES.
"Alot?" he said. I can already hear it. In his voice. Before I answer.
I am unpredictable when I drink. Belligerent. Confrontational.
Alcohol is the worst kind of mistress. Or mister. I quit drinking. I am a fanatic about the not drinking. Then I am mad about the drinking. That I can't exert enough fucking self control to only have one or two drinks. AND STOP. It always comes to that point.
I.
CAN'T.
STOP.
I have spent so many days here hovering over the toilet, retching my guts out. And it all starts out innocently enough.
A dinner.
A party.
An anything.
AND I DROWN IT. IN ALCOHOL.
I can never see it coming.
All I know is where I eventually end up. Crying. Hating myself. Needing someone to tell me that I am indeed worthy of breathing air, and that they will indeed love me no matter what even if they don't mean it.
It's ridiculous.
I am ridiculous.
No matter how many people tell me that they think I'm worth it, or pretty or amusing or engaging or whatever, it's never enough.
I still feel like that 11 year old girl with the bad haircut and the flat chest sitting in front of art class and having Jim Brew reach down the front of my shirt, just like he was waxing a surfboard, casual, and announcing to anybody who would listen, "See? I told you she was flat." Which if you were ever in school, is social death to an 8th grader.
I still feel like that girl who, when she finally scored somebody who her parents deemed "worthy", had the very same man tell her, "I like you better when you're drunk."
Know why I hate it here so much? Because I have made such an ass out of myself in public being drunk that I can't stand to come face to face with the people who I may or may not have seen out the night before.
I don't want dh to come home.
I'm afraid that he'll find out the truth that I am a horrible wife and that he will go.
I can handle me making him leave.
If he left?
This little cookie would just be pushed right over the edge.
I'm already crumbled.
I yelled at somebody for internalizing last night, but there are so many things that I just can't seem
TO
LET
GO.
I talked to a friend last night. He's known me since I was 11. 18 years. And I still feel like that girl.
And I'm mad at him for it.
When I have nobody to blame but myself.
I got nominated for most humorous blog.
I don't feel funny.
I feel pressured.
I have begged dh to get me out so many times and just take me to a new place so I can be there and have my shit together and not be a big asshole, and he does. Time and time again.
And you know what?
I blow it.
My stepsons made a bet over whether I would finish the whole bottle of champagne or not.
That's something to be proud of.
I need a fucking hobby.
I feel unresolved.
ANGRY.
SO FUCKING ANGRY.
I just...
I don't know.
I JUST.