8Jan2017
So I really want a drink. I took a pill. It's alright I guess. I kind of want to pour beautiful brown liquid into a short heavy bottomed glass and hold my wrist at an angle and feel great. I'm going to start dinner now. Music, drink, cooking. My quiet place. My therapy. But, the more that I want this drink, the more I think hmmm... this might actually develop into full blown alcoholism. Then I try to dispute that, and tell myself that I am in control. And that one drink while I make dinner isn't going to prove or disprove anything to myself. Then I ask myself, why do you want the fucking drink so bad anyway?! And round and round we go. Lol. Pathetic
Anyway, I called him. To make sure he wasn't drinking. He fell off the wagon because of me. He's doing his own thing. He's under control. I call to make sure he "doesn't need help" I'll help you! Come to me. I'm a nurturer! I will take care of you! Maybe in a small way hoping that he's troubled. Needing something. He sees right through me. I'm sure of it. Pathetic. I'm the one who needs help.
So I was thinking. How much I love being a mother. I kind of find an identity and an idea of how something is supposed to be and I play the role full on. Kids are in the tub next to me. Smiling. Playing. They're so happy. Bubbles. Sunshine. So fulfilling. Going to make dinner. It will be beautiful. And awesome. And nutritious and warm and comforting. The oldest will hate it. And say mean things. That's ok. It's what they do. I need to go buy that part from Home Depot. Maybe I'll go tomorrow. I have to go to the dr. Tomorrow. Hmmm.
I think I'll go have that drink now.
Submitted January 08, 2017 at 03:33PM by 99problemsburner http://ift.tt/2i7MVFn
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