I drank my last drink exactly 3 years ago today. Tomorrow is my sober birthday. May 6, 2014. I love that day and date. It was May 5, 2014 and I ordered Mexican food, margaritas, and beer…Modelo Especial and Stella Artois. Looking back, I rarely had beer in the house…cause I drank it. All.
Anywho, so this is where I welcome you into my life. I’ve been silent on many issues for the majority of it and, well, I’m just not going to be that way anymore. I can’t think of a better day than today to start living more authentically. I was ambivalent about being open with regard to alcoholism. I understand that some people are pretty out there about it and some people aren’t. I get it. I respect it. I had to think long and hard about what being an alcoholic means to me. I realized over the past several days that the simple reason I keep it under wraps is because…wait for it….fear! Yes, fear! What will they think? They, they, they. I’m tired of being the inaccessible piece of God-made goodness that floats through the universe not really showing up to life as fully as I could. Let me be clear: I show up a LOT MORE than I ever did in these last three years. It’s so weird how normal I do some things now, especially with regard to communication. If I don’t understand something, I ask. Yes, folks, I ask questions! :)))) And I don’t feel badly about it, either. I was just at lunch with a magnificent group of women. I marvel at them; they are all so gifted in different ways…the subject of FaceBook came up and someone mentioned she couldn’t understand how anyone could put so much of their lives on social media. I thought about it. I share a lot, I think. I have lots of social media platforms and I’m always considering more. For me, I have lived my life without healthy consistency. It’s been a great life. It’s been extremely difficult at times.
Funny: I put a deposit down on an apartment a few weeks ago. I was given the choice to live above regular tenants or above a business. I could have the first apartment much sooner. Let me think about it…I did. And the conclusion I came to is that I’ve tiptoed around my whole life and I’m sick of tiptoeing. I’m not doing it anymore. At least above the 9-5 business, my workouts and rumpussing won’t bother anyone. Not funny: I’m scared to have that conversation with him. Seriously what does a person say in a situation like this? Very little, I think. Nothing will come out right.
Me: Hey, you suck. I’m leaving.
Him: No, YOU suck. YOU aren’t leaving till I SAY!
See what I mean? There’s just no organic flow happening. Holy Spirit, You gotta come through on this when the time comes. Read the rest of this entry
My brain is so tired. Family drama. Crappy drama. Days like this I label as survival mode. I’m accused of things I know are untrue. I had planned to do schoolwork for the last two days and that has not happened. I’m just venting here. I know things will get better – I just hate getting blindsided by the dark side of the universe…that part sucks. And I need contact lenses. On the upside, Dean Karnazes liked my congratulatory comment, so…there’s that. I could live with that for a little while…
What a journey. What a freaking journey. You know me. I work backwards. Ass backwards as my mom used to say. Not about me, but backwards was often prefaced with that colorful adjective…ass backwards. 🙂 Say it and feel the joy if you don’t believe me. I’ll wait……there, said it? Good.
I move backwards from the moment, yes? So, I sit here this morning. Holy Thursday morning, Maundy (SP?), what have you. It’s the day my Lord and Savior had the Last Supper and then got arrested afterwards. Lent has been an extremely powerful journey for me this year but that’s for another post. pretty much.
I sit here this morning – here’s what I’ve done so far. I woke up at 5 after placing my intentions with God last night – I will wake up joyful and with purpose. There were about 25 seconds of oh-shit-why-why-why-do-i-have-to-get-up-this-freaking-early but hey, I got right to it. I prayed. I walked the dog. I fed all the animals. I gave my daughter a valium. :))))) For her wisdom teeth extraction!!! Which is why I’m typing fast – I gotta get her up & dressed so we can go get her four – count ’em 4 – wisdom teeth extracted. Got my other daughter to school for 7 so she could take a make-up biology test…on the way to school she told me the sweet story about the kid in her class yesterday – during the video about DNA, there was a person blowing into the box to move some particles of something around and one of her classmates took the opportunity to say, “He’s hot boxing the DNA, dude!” He got detention. Poor teacher. Okay, I laughed. Then I said, poor teacher. That was a highly inappropriate comment. He should receive detention and I hope YOU didn’t laugh at that.
Anywho. I have so much to catch up on on here. I am here! So there’s that! And I’m still sober!!!! That.is.freaking.amaze.balls. Truly. I treasure my sobriety right there under my relationship with God Himself. And I am not kidding on that.
Looks like I haven’t posted since January?
I went back to school! UL Lafayette. I am a student! I love it. I was momentarily freaked out like I would be the oldest person on campus, but I am not and even if I were, I wouldn’t care. I love learning. I miss being in school.
Life with a narcissist is not easy. I won’t even go into adjectives here because there are none sufficient to describe the absolute fucked up pain they inflict. My advice if you find yourself tangled up with one? Untangle. Get out. Figure it out. Google. Read. Educate yourself. And after you’ve educated yourself? HEAL YOURSELF. There is no hope for them. Just resign yourself to that fact. Okay, one in a million may change, but resign yourself to – “My one in a million is not the one that will be changing.” They are masters of disguise. They can stuff their toxicity for a couple of weeks or more maybe, but the poison comes out. It has to. And you better be ready when it does.
I have resigned myself that if I am going to be here, I am going to heal while I am here. My daughters are here and I am empowering them, educating them, loving them, and helping them to grow into self-sufficient women. I am working with a PhD who I absolutely get along with. Crazy fact? He has known my family since 1981. He has amazing insight. He has been very helpful and I’ll continue to work with him on healing and therapy.
Okay, gotta go wake up my beautiful girl. Any readers of mine out there, how are YOU?
Dear universe,I would just like to capture in words how I got to this spot. I used to wonder – years ago – I used to wonder – how did other people do it? Did the husband scream at the wife in every relationship? And if that’s true, how come all the friends I knew on FB & all the Christmas cards I got showed people I knew and they looked genuinely happy? And did the dads scream at the kids and make them cry? Did the dads say things to make the children cry all under the umbrella of, “What? Do you want me to lie to her? She didn’t run a good race.” I could never figure it out because I had no template to follow. I was too embarrassed to ask questions. After sobriety set in, I started doing the difficult work. Untangling the knots of my own life to discover how my thought process became that way. How my esteem was all but gone. Why couldn’t I go to school when I wanted to? Why could I be a regular homemaker that had just a little bit of authority over the house – how it was run and how it looked. But looking back, all these years later, none of those things mattered to him. What mattered to him was that he found someone so broken she didn’t even realize. Which paved the way so easily to “his way or the highway.” If I had a dollar for every time I heard, “if you don’t like it, pack your shit and get the fuck out,” all the while controlling every cent that came into our lives, I would be rich. He would argue that no understanding of money ever came into my life, only his, because I “never contributed to any of the bills anyway,” so how would I know?
Even today, sitting on the tarmac in Denver, he was sickeningly cruel, demanding my youngest daughter’s cell phone as he stood in the aisle waiting to get off the plane and while she was in her seat. I intervened and of course took the brunt of his vitriol…the glaring, black eyes staring at me, squatting to make himself low enough to be eye to eye with me. The oddest thing was that people were staring at him as if to say, “WTF is wrong with you?” He has become a bigger bully over the years. I was always able to take it, but when it became more directed to my daughters, I started planning my way out. And that’s where I am now – on the precarious ledge of feeling not quite ready and not caring anymore about this farce of a relationship. He commented to me recently that he missed when I respected him so much. I told him that he should not confuse respect with fear.
So, thanks universe. I make sense of things ejecting words into you. I understanding the saying, “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”
And thank You, God. I know You have my back as always.
It’s hard to unknow what we know. I feel so broken and numb inside. I know this is exactly what the narcissist wants. Complete ruin while he sits in the middle of it like a Pharisee. That same mouth that he tore down my daughter with yesterday is the same mouth that he called her over with this morning so she could kiss him goodbye before school. Sick motherfucker.
He sat there with his brother this morning, reading scripture and telling his brother how strong the Holy Spirit has been moving in his life. It makes me sick.
I know that people deserve forgiveness and chances. I don’t believe, however, that turning a blind eye to such obvious abuse is right. And when you factor in the fact that we are married, well, there is a higher level of expectation there.
He came with us to the meeting at church and googled his phone and fell asleep twice during the 55 minute meeting.
I just need to get stuff out. I’m burning here and I need help. What is right? To stay here until both daughters graduate and get my own life in order, as much as that is possible? Or do I leave now, before my daughters senior year next year and deal with all that brings to the equation?
I’m depending on God. I still don’t feel great. I’m taking today to do what I need to do for me, which right now is sleep. And pray. God help me. God help him. I figure if I can pray for those evil freaks in Isis, I can pray for my husband, too. And I do. I just find myself telling God a disclaimer beforehand – God, I know we are supposed to pray for those who persecute us, and I gotta tell ya – I’m going through the motions here.
God help me.
Sometimes I believe if I don’t document the craziness, I almost can’t believe it actually happened. This morning I woke up on day 3 with a Burning sore throat. I knew I would go to the doctor today. I can hear my daughter come in the front door from her sleepover. I could hear my husband saying something to her. I am not kidding when I say within 30 seconds I could hear him outside the back part of our house calling her a little motherfucker. I’ve literally bolted out of bed, Flew down the stairs, and into the backyard to see WTF was going on. She was standing there completely traumatized. He was in a rage, screaming that if only she…, If she would have done…,
How does one enter a moment of insanity like that? I quickly prayed to God as to what to say and do. I tried to remain calm which was difficult. I told him that regardless of anything she could have done in the 30 seconds that she was home, he was the one who had control over his reaction. It went on for a little while, with him continuing to scream and point fingers at me and her for his rage. EditAnyway, this is a prime example of gaslighting. Ugly rage just comes out of nowhere and is blamed solely on the recipients.
So I went to the doctor before the dust could settle. I’m about to go pick up my prescription & start to get much better quickly because I can’t afford to be sick on so many different levels.
I’m pissed at myself because he had this same bacterial infection. He was driving us one day a week or so ago, coughed and sneezed in the closed up car, and didn’t try to mitigate his contamination. I have already been I conditioned not to say anything because it is taken as criticism, not as me trying to prevent me or my girls from catching whatever he had. And narcissist cannot abide by any type of correction.
So my wounds are self inflicted – I have been isolating emotionally – I know it’s because there was a slight lull between gaslighting events and I – in my own sickness – just wanted to feel normal for a little while.
Sigh. Lull over.
God help us.