Well, That Hurt.

Dear God,

When I first started going to meetings, every time I tried to speak up all I could do was cry. I hated myself so much that trying to make words hurt my throat.  I really thought that somehow the pain would be over when I stopped hating my self and turned to hating my addict.  That turned out to be bullshit. Apparently, I am in for a world more hurt than I thought I would have to bear and today I stumbled over a great big pile of it. Oh well.

So I was talking to my youngest daughter (YD), and was getting honest with her about my shock at discovering that my husband P didn’t really understand just how bad my drinking had become.  Immediately YD said “Oh yeah, no kidding. Like, we figured that out when OD (oldest daughter) went to him two years ago and said ‘What the f*ck?’  She was really worried about you.”

It took my breath away.

Two years ago…two years ago, when I thought no one had noticed how bad my drinking had become, OD actually said something to P and he said absolutely nothing to me and did nothing about what was happening.

Okay, God, I get that it wasn’t his responsibility to save me or to stop me. But honestly, I started expecting him to say something, to call me out and tell me that my behavior was unacceptable, basically ages ago! I really thought that he would get sick of me being drunk, of me sleeping through our Saturday nights watching TV together. I knew he didn’t like how much I repeated myself and whatever things I thought I should tell him over and over and over when I was drinking. I guess I just thought that at some point he would say “Enough! Knock it off!”  I can’t remember when I started waiting for him to confront me, but I know it was several years ago.

And he finally did confront me…he finally said something the night before my first day sober, only 20 days ago. By then I’d already made a decision to seek some help and was waiting for the group to start meeting. I’m still waiting, as they don’t start meeting until this coming Thursday. I’m still going to join them. I just joined AA first.

I don’t know why it hurts so much to know that someone had said something to him, that OD had pointed out that I obviously was NOT okay, and that he did nothing. It makes me feel somewhat invisible to him.

The funny thing is that I’ve been asking myself for the last two weeks why I felt like I needed to erase myself with alcohol.  To a certain extent, that’s what I had been doing. The first drink made the sharp edges smooth; it made it easier to breathe. The next drink made it easier to cry and let out all the pain. Every drink after that erased everything including me, until I was in the room but didn’t really exist in the room.  Blackouts will do that for you—they erase everything, leaving nothing but a blank where time was supposed to exist.  

I have been asking myself for the last two weeks why I felt the need to erase myself and I still don’t have any answers…

However, I have figured this out: the reason that my husband couldn’t see that I was drowning was because I taught him not to see. I erased myself from the room.  That was my goal in drinking—to not be there even as I was sitting right there. And he got very good at being patient with his erasable wife; he never once accused me of abandoning him to solitude and loneliness even as I sat next to him on the couch, soaking myself in alcohol. He never once asked me why I didn’t love him enough to be present to him and whatever he was going through that day. He never once told me that he was tired of being married and simultaneously alone.

I guess that I got what I deserved, erasing myself and leaving him alone, but it still hurts and I don’t know how to deal with that hurt…and since I used to deal with all the hurt by drinking, I’m kind of in a pickle.

I hurt and I don’t have anything to relieve the pain. I guess this is where I have to learn to do things differently, to believe that I don’t have to drink in order to be able to handle this. And this is why I’m writing you right now, God. I have to be honest, writing this hasn’t relieved the pain one bit. But I also know that I writing this down helps me clarify my thoughts, and maybe even avoid blaming and resentment. And if this isn’t enough, I can text my sponsor, and maybe a friend or two from the program. They won’t necessarily have answers that will relieve my pain, but that’s okay. I just need to know that I’m not crazy and I’m not alone and I’m not going to feel this way forever.

I also need to know that I can feel this and continue to be sober, because it’s only day 20 and I am gunning for that first chip at 30 days…and the one after that at 60 days, and then at 90 days, and then…

I really want those damn chips.  All of them.

So, God, if you can see me (and I know you can), your daughter down here feels like crap and isn’t able to be invisible right now. I could use a little help. I could use a lot of help.

Oh hell, I could use a drink. But I’m not doing that today.

Thanks for listening.

UPDATE:

Okay, I realized that it was 2018 when P came to me and said “You aren’t okay. You are drinking too much. You are eating too much. How can I help?” I told him that I knew I wasn’t okay and said that I needed to start going to a grief group. MAJOR DEFLECTION THERE…yes I needed to deal with my grief, but he came right out and said that I was drinking too much.

SO…yes P did say something to me. I just didn’t want to listen.

All that hurt I felt on Saturday because no one said anything was my addict lying to me again.

I hate that lying bitch.