My week has been a series of rememberable and traumatic days and moments.
Monday, terrible. Absolutely terrible. Just. No. Like, seriously the most memorable bad night in at least the past 8 years. The absolute and complete shit show that therapy was, then an hour later literally just dying?
Still unclear if I was sick sick, or stressed the fuck out sick? But no one else ever got any kind of sick. My husband had a 2 day migraine, which was oddly timed, but, again…we were both kind of under similar stress. So who knows. (Also important to note, I have EXTREME emetophobia, to the point where it just isn’t something that I do. Pregnant, sick, just….no. And so for this night to be what it was? Yeah. I’ll stop talking about it here.)
Tuesday. Awful. Husband is home from work, because I’m OBVIOUSLY not okay. He starts day 1 of his migraine and general malaise by mid morning. I’ve vowed never to put anything into my body ever again. Ever. I’m horrifically weak from the night before, slept literally 2 hours if that, and just…no. No.
Husband and I were taking turns basically dying while also taking care of 3 kids. So that was fun. He took the morning shift and I took the late shift. Bedtime was a true dream come true.
Obviously, there was to be no drinking on Tuesday night. I managed to get half a drink in before my actual worst nightmare started on Monday night, so that didn’t count as a night not drinking. Even if it didn’t stay in my system.
Wednesday was…almost better. I attempted eating. And I quickly realized my stomach was less agreeable than I hoped. My husband is full force into day 2 of his migraine by now. He worked half a day and then came home by 1. By like 8pm, he was just hurting too badly to exist anymore, so he was asleep for the night. I still felt pretty terrible, and my fear of being sick far outweighs any desire I have to drink alcohol. Shockingly. So I took a melatonin and went to sleep by 10.
Thursday…I’m feeling pretty much completely 100% fine. My husband is too. Finally. A normal day, which means a normal night.
But…I’ve been mostly sober since Monday night. So…maybe that means I can do this? Sure, I was feeling like absolute complete trash, but…maybe?
I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t say a word about that part of it to anyone. Because I couldn’t be any kind of influenced one way or another.
By the time 8pm came on Thursday night, last night, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was feeling completely fine except for the rapidly growing, all too familiar headache that I had.
I did drink less than normal. Or, less than my right now normal. A while ago in therapy, we settled on an agreed upon “normal” or set amount that I’d drink every night. Just to have a goal to keep it stable.
I’ve been far off of that goal for a long time now. Months.
But last night was the first night I actually stuck to that goal.
This week has taught me a lot.
Extreme emotional distress can fuck me up better than anything else can…apparently.
My fear of being sick has done a lot for me over my lifetime. And it helped give me a few nights off for the first time since my youngest son was born. Which I’m oddly grateful for.
And lastly, I can’t do it.
Even with arguably being in the thick of it, and it being completely and totally my decision, and something that I wanted to do, I couldn’t do it.
I don’t know how much of it was withdrawals vs feeling leftover shitty from being as violently sick as I was, but I assure you, I was not okay in any sense of the word. Did my starting to feel sick on Thursday night as a result of not drinking ultimately influence me to drink when I was on the fence?
Honestly, it probably did. I felt a ton better by the end of the night. So….it definitely was related.
None of my issues are resolved. None of the stressors or problems that’s presumably caused all of this to begin with have had any kind of resolution.
I don’t know if my therapist is okay with me, although she said she was, and honestly… nothing has happened between us that we wouldn’t be? Except for my own insecurities and feeling like a horrific failure and horrible person in general.
This other person still hates me. Although she did agree to have a conversation with me, (and my husband who is completely dreading it) sometime next week. Yeah, because that will go so well I’m sure.
At the end of the day, my week had a night in it which felt very baseline. In a good way. Yes, I drank, because it’s obviously stronger than me and I’m a terrible horrible person.
But I managed to keep it within the right amount. So, there’s that.
In the battle between terrible, awful and baseline, I’m sure as shit glad to be ending it with baseline. It’s far superior than the other choices.
It’s finally Friday. And this week has been literal hell.
So…that means next week will obviously be loads better.
…
…..
…….
……….right?
