Yesterday I lost control. I started drinking whiskey on an empty stomach and didn’t stop. I was sad and lonely and self-medicating and I ended up causing more tension with Thom and doing damage to my body. I need to face my emotions. I need to stop numbing my pain. I need to gain control. There are 22 days before my birthday. I’m going to try and live them without alcohol.
Woke up early. Settled my emotions. Accomplished everything on my to do list including car maintenance, hair cut, just a few glasses of wine, and cleaning up. Had a good conversation. A nice trip with Thom to the airport for our global entry interview. Day one of summer break and I’m feeling relaxed and happy. Still worried about my liver health. Anxious about my personal trainer tomorrow. But not sad to lay down and looking forward to waking up.
The beginning of this year, January 1st to be exact, I got some acute illness and spent the day vomiting and laying in bed. On that day, I didn’t have a drink.
Now over 6 months later, I have achieved just one more day without a drop of alcohol. Today. It seems small, and easily undone, but at some point you have to start and be successful and then just continue to do that same thing every day hereafter.
I don’t know my end goal, but I want to make sure I’m not killing my liver, cholesterol levels, and heart. And I want to put my life together after all the stress and strife that has overcome me and nearly destroyed my 16 year-old relationship with Thom.
I want to find happiness in the moments that fill up my days. Sometimes there are too many moments, and they are painfully present. Other days I blink and they are gone. In the past there was usually an empty glass in my hand. Now I hope to hold my own potential instead.
Last Thursday afternoon, after a year + of anxiety, stress, arguing, counseling, denial, and drinking…. Thom finally confessed to his infidelity. And what a confession: using slight of hand to have me focused on one man, he’d actually also been doing much worse with another. Both were friends. The one Thom had been fucking in total secret was a close friend. It was a painful weekend, but in a way it was so oddly relaxing.
Finally, we can talk and he can’t make me feel like I’m crazy. Finally, there is some no-holds-barred honesty. Finally, though oddly placed, there was some intense connection and love. Finally, I’ve been able to release all my pain I’ve been carrying for so long.
I have no idea where this leaves me or what happens now. I have to deal with how badly I’ve been treated and if my love can outshine that treatment. I have to try and get healthy after so much stress and alcohol. Thom and I must try and rebuild a whole new relationship if that’s what we decide. I have to let myself feel it all.
I’ve been waking up with crusty eyes.
I’ve been going to sleep alone.
My body is swollen.
Tonight he said he didn’t want to give me a hug.
We talk about (his) loss or pain.
I drink mine away.
He’s mourning the loss of being with other men.
I’m feeling bad because I just want to be with him.
Welcome to Wednesday.
What is this? Silence. Exhaustion. Distance.
I want to try and cross the distance. But it also seems like I must be the bridge that we walk across. Is it worth it? Am I fighting a lost cause?
My fear is that when all is said and done, you are just looking for an excuse to walk. Over me? With me? I want us to walk together; but that feels so far tonight.
Exhaustion? I just wish we could relax together.