I have had a shitty beyond shitty weekend. What started out with the slaughter of 12 of my chickens due to predators on early Saturday morning led to a day of things that I did not want to do, which then led to tension between my husband and I. Which then led to some tension and arguing.
At around 8pm Saturday night, after we had honestly tried to greet each other with love and compassion, it was just the tiniest thing that set it off. He was frustrated, I didn’t like how he responded to that frustration, I yelled at him, he shut down…you could write a book about it, it’s so predictable at this point.
All the while as it’s happening, it just felt so familiar and so hurtful. I had had it, my day had been truly fucking awful, and the most familiar thought kept circling my head.
“I can (do something) with love or alcohol, but not neither.” Usually, that fill in the blank is sleep. But at that moment, the fill in the blank felt a lot more like function. I can function with love or alcohol, but not neither.
And in those moments, I wasn’t getting love. Normally, I’m strong enough to handle it. But after the day I had, and the pure emotional and physical exhaustion I was experiencing…it was just the straw that broke the fucking camels back.
So, yeah. I went to the fridge and grabbed a weak, low proof seltzer. Does it count as drinking? In my book? No. Realistically, drinking half of a can of 1 hard seltzer will not have an ill effect on anyone. And certainly, the anxiety I was experiencing in that moment was more harmful than that half of a drink was.
But does it count as drinking? Yeah. Probably.
In my book, drinking = drunk. And anything less than that simply does not count as drinking.
But the burn that feels so good going down your throat is still there. The first breath of relaxation that comes along with the first sip is still there. The broken fucking mentality is still there.
I feel so powerless right now. I feel so broken. All I want to do is give in and give up. I’m on the verge of tears, and that’s something that just doesn’t happen for me. I don’t cry. I’m not outwardly emotional.
I’m fighting the tears back as I write this, and that’s just so, so very not me.
Even as I’m drinking my drink, I know I’m wrong to drink it. I want to stop, but I also don’t want to stop.
My husband has tried, and he’s gotten out of his short lived mood, and things feel normal again. But the damage within myself has been done. I am weak. I know this.
With the feelings urging me to drink come the feelings urging me to self harm. And while I didn’t act on that, I know that that too, is likely to catch up with me someday soon as well.
Since I had that half a can of seltzer, the urge to drink has died down. It’s like the tension kept building and building, and it didn’t matter what the trigger was, something was bound to trigger it.
Last night was a similar story. The day was fine…ish…but then around 8pm, my husband said one hurtful thing to me in sarcasm out of frustration, and it just left me feeling…empty. Like I needed something. But instead of drinking, I just shut down.
I shut down immediately after he said it, and I stayed that way for the rest of the night. He didn’t apologize, and neither one of us addressed it, but I do think he felt badly for saying it. He tried to love me and be close with me, but I didn’t accept it. I didn’t want that.
I just wanted him to apologize for saying what he said. But how would he know that if I don’t say something about it, I guess.
Anyway, yeah. That’s it. That’s my weekend. My flock got murdered, my husband and I had some awkward moments of tension, and I drank half a can of hard seltzer.
Do I feel prepared to face this upcoming week? No, I absolutely do not. Do I feel guilty for everything that’s happened? Of course. Blameless or not, everything feels like my fault. And that just really sucks for me.
Even though it never feels like it in the moment, I probably could’ve handled everything better. I could’ve been less irritable, more forgiving, easier to be around…I don’t know. Like I said, I just accept all the blame. And that’s fine. That’s life.
I spent my weekend feeling sad and broken and in pain. I didn’t get met with the love that I needed in those moments that I needed it the most, so I coped the best, and only, way I knew how.
I can survive with love, or alcohol…but not neither.
And sometimes, it feels like I’m forced to have neither.
All that leaves me with is a very, very, broken me. A me that needs to do better.