Archive for the 'alcohol' Category

The spectrum of knowledge

I wasn’t going to write about this. It just seemed too personal. I’m not quite sure why, considering I’ve written on this subject before. Hell, I’ve written on damn near everything that I consider to be highly personal. Maybe I’m just sick of writing about THIS.

By “THIS”, I mean my marriage.

The night before last, B came home. Drunk. I could tell he was already drunk when he called me from the ferry. I can always tell right away, because he gets unusually chipper and his words slur just so.

I really should thank my lucky stars that he doesn’t come home drunk and start beating my ass.

But instead, he comes home all happy and full of these big drunken ideas. He plays with the kids and is incessantly nice to them. He makes these huge promises and commitments that he’ll never be able to fulfill. He starts going on rants and rampages and off on tangents. He thinks he’s being really deep, but he just sounds completely incoherent and ridiculous.

After we put the kids to bed, I was reading a book on parenting. He wanted to talk about it. It’s one of those books where the intent is that you’ll go through it with your partner. Kind of like a workbook. I knew that would never happen with him, so I’ve forged ahead on my own. Anyway, his drunken self tried to convince me that he wanted to know. I started to explain the first concept of the book to him. It was about validating your child’s feelings. He stopped me after a few sentences and went off on his own lengthy speech about how he always does that with the kids, and how his own childhood was, etc. He got completely off track. I think he forgot what we were talking about. When he took a breath, I continued on with my explanation of the first chapter. He stood up and said “I’M DONE. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I looked at him and said “What? But we just started!”

He got pissed. Anyone who has been around their share of drunk people has seen this phenomenon. One minute their fine, and the next minute they go apeshit because they think that someone has said or done something shitty to them. He starts repeating, “I said I was done! Why can’t you respect me? Respect my manhood! Why do you always make me feel inferior?” I just sat there and pretended to keep reading. A few times I couldn’t handle it anymore and had to laugh a bit. I told him I was going to bed. He smoked a cigarette and then came into our bedroom, flipped on the light and kept going on and on about respect and his manhood. One of the funniest parts of this one-sided conversation is when he asked me, “What do you think our kids know that is beyond our spectrum of knowledge?” At that point I actually laughed really hard, and then buried my head under the covers to drown him out.

I’m so insanely sick of the alcohol use. I can hardly enjoy a glass of wine anymore because my hatred for how the stuff affects my husband is growing at an alarming rate.

The whole marriage is just the biggest pile of shit ever.

And I keep saying I’ll leave. I get divorce papers started. I shred them. I look for a job. I get scared. I make plans. I back out.

The simple fact is that I am enjoying staying at home too much. I know that I would lose all that if I divorced. My marriage is not so unbearable that I am willing to give it up. I want to raise my kids. Is that so terrible?

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Tears and fears

Yesterday, B had planned to go straight from work to his cousin’s house, and spend the night there. His cousin lives right near our storage unit, so it made sense for him to be closeby so he could wake up this morning and easily get there.

Instead, he took a detour on the way to his cousin’s house and decided to “go out to dinner with his sister.” I immediately smelled trouble. “Going out to dinner” meant going to a bar with his sister, her alcoholic husband, and his asshole friend.

B does not do well in these kinds of situations, although he likes to think he does. At 145 pounds, he’s a bit of a lightweight, and especially with beer. For some reason, beer fucks him up. It also gives him incredible hangovers. And yet, he was chugging beer. This is what I call “competetive drinking.” It’s what boys do when they socialize, trying to keep up with each other and look manly. And so of course, B had too much to drink.

Now when B has too much to drink in a “competetive drinking atmosphere”, he turns into a major dick. He gets a whole shitload of liquid courage and turns from the passive nice guy that he is into the world’s biggest asshole. He pokes fun at everyone in sight and keeps prodding and needling until you just want to smack him upside the head. Apparently, one of the guys couldn’t take it anymore, and proceeded to bitch B out. The guy told him that he “was a dick to his friends and a dick to his family.” B flipped out, walked out the bar, throwing his beer glass down on the ground as he exited. And even though his sister had firmly told him that he WOULDN’T be driving, he drove. He drove drunk on New Year’s weekend. And while he drove, he called me. And while he drove and called me, he sobbed like a baby. Now this part is important. I have NEVER, EVER seen or heard B cry. Not even when his grandmother died, not even when our children were born. He claims that he hasn’t cried since he was 12 years old. I was pissed at him, pissed at his sister for not doing more to stop him from driving, and I was shocked at his tears. Over and over he was saying things like “I’m a dick and nobody likes me. You hate me, my family hates me, and I don’t like the person I am. I give up, I’m not doing it anymore, I just give up.” It was really, really distressing. I made him hang up the phone while I frantically called his cousin to explain the situation and to warn him that a very intoxicated B was on his way there.

His cousin is in AA and has been sober for several years. I knew this would make for a very interesting night.

I shook violently and my teeth chattered until I got the call that he had arrived safely and was sobering up. I spoke to him for a few minutes and assured him that he was a good person, that everyone liked him, but yes, he IS a dick when he drinks, and that perhaps it’s time to say goodbye to The Drink. Perhaps for me too.

I’ve never loved him more.

Just another day in paradise

I’m not having a great day today. In fact, I’m incredibly pissy.

Everything was going wonderfully until 4PM or so. I called B to see if he was on his way home, and he asked me about dinner. Shit…dinner. Totally spaced it. I confidently replied that I’d figure something out, got off the phone, and cheerfully made my way to the kitchen. Nothing. There’s nothing. I’ve got cornbread mix, biscuit mix, 3 frozen chicken breasts, a can of green beans, some eggs. There is not enough of anything to make a meal for all 6 of us. I finally come up with some questionably old bread, using mostly the ends of the loaf, which are disgusting, and in my opinion, a complete waste. I start making this gourmet meal of grilled cheese sandwiches, and a small portion of tomato soup, and decide that I’ll just skip dinner, since there really isn’t enough anyway. I call to the kids to turn off the video games and come to the table to do their homework. They grumble and argue, but manage to get their backpacks and start rummaging through them. I’ve got Animal in the high chair, and every few minutes I hand him another Ritz cracker to keep him busy and quiet, while I flip sandwiches and listen to Einstein bitch and whine about being hungry. I already feel The Rage and I just want to start screaming “What the fuck do you think I’m doing right now?!?! Trying to starve you???” Pigpen is sweetly asking me if I can buy him some books from his Scholastic book order, which is normally fine, but at this very moment, my checking account is negative, and I can’t even buy anything for dinner, much less a copy of Miss Spider’s Tea Party. I’m looking at Pigpen’s homework calendar, telling him what to do, whilst buttering pieces of bread, handing over ritz crackers, asking Einstein to “just wait for dinner”, when all of the sudden Einstein says “The toilet was overflowing and Uncle just just shut the lid.” What???? I drop everything and fly downstairs, into my brother’s bathroom, where I find the toilet completely filled up with water. Luckily, there is only a small amount on the floor and it has apparently stopped flowing. There is a dead spider in the toilet, and I am trying to carefully plunge the toilet without that goddamn spider spilling out onto my shoes. I flush and it starts to overflow again. I turn the damn thing off and run upstairs. The sandwiches are burning. They are completely black. One more person is going without dinner. B walks in to the chaos and I just throw down the spatula and walk away. This is only 10 minutes. You’re lucky you’re just getting a taste.

And people wonder why I drink.

Pictures of Jewel’s visit

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