It's been a long week.
And it's only Wednesday. We were having a really good day yesterday. Hubs has been focusing on gratitude – for literally everything, and I think that's helping him. Was helping.
We got into it again last night: a big misunderstanding because my words wouldn't come out properly. It was all to do, again, with me not being able to actually, physically, motivate myself to do things. The simplest tasks – like showering or changing my clothes, or climbing the stairs to go to bed - I just can't.
It's like my feet are stuck in mud.
And, Hubs doesn't get it. At all.
I don't believe he thinks the problem is real, or he thinks that I'm just being lazy. He doesn't see - and I can't really communicate how I'm feeling - that I do wish I could do things. Like I used to be able to. It's depression, mental illness, whatever you want to call it.
It feels like the hamsters are dead at the wheel most days.
It makes me sad because I'm going to be gone for a month – and we wasted a perfectly good evening arguing and crying again. Valentine's Day of all days. We didn't even get each other cards.
This year, I gave him disappointment, and he told me I'm disgusting.
Best presents ever.
What a stupid fucking holiday.
All this wasted time, talking in circles. Every drink stretching the circle outwards until we are even further apart and the time it takes to make our way back around to each other just gets longer and harder.
Wasted. Time. Literally, spent wasted and drunk.
I'm seriously so tired of writing these depressing posts. It's not like me at all.
I'm anxious to leave on Tuesday with the prospect of becoming me again. I should be writing about my hopes and learning new ways to cope. I should be focusing on the positive things – but it's so difficult when the condition of the most important thing to me is crumbling on a cracked foundation.
I told my family last night that I'm checking into rehab. That was the hardest, most difficult step so far. In true me-fashion, I sent a message, because sitting with them in person and talking about it is the furthest from how anyone in my family works.
Let's just say communication isn't our strong point.
But I did it. I was borderline going to just go away and try and have them not even know I was there. But I know I'm going to need their support, and I know they are all very aware that I'm an alcoholic. I hope it gives them some sort of relief that I'm finally getting help.
I apologized for having disappointed them.
They all lied and told me I never have. Sweet of them, really. But now I'm going to have to tell them that lying to me about it won't help. That it's time for a real dialogue, so we can put so many things to rest and move forward. In the end, I felt lighter though. A huge weight has lifted for me, now that I'm not hiding anymore.
Honesty is helium for your own soul.
Sadly, that same honesty can turn into the heaviest of weights for the people you are being honest with.
It's another step.
I'm off to the doctor at some point today to get some baseline blood work done, so it's back before I leave. Hubs is worried about my heart while going through detox. I'm already on 2 pills for blood pressure and he's afraid it'll all be too much. He's afraid I'll have a heart attack, or my blood pressure will spike or drop like mad.
I'm worried about my heart, too.
Just not in the same way.
I'm worried that as I try to piece all the shattered little bits of it back together, it won't go back the same way ever again.
But, I'm going to try. Hopefully with better results than how I tried to explain myself last night and having it all fall back apart, no matter what I tried to hold it together with. All the pieces of my explanation just kept falling to the floor, breaking into even more pieces in the end.
Today will be better.
Sober, alcohol free recovery blogger.
Photographer. Writer. Ex-Blackout Artist.
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