It's been almost 48 hours since Spencer began this weekend's binge, starting Friday evening, continuing through this morning--with a break of crashing out in snores on the couch for thankfully some hours--and he said to me as I went hurrying out the door this morning that he may not be home when I get back later this evening.
I was going out the door to first go shopping, then come in to work to get some stuff done. The hurrying part was because I just had to get out of the house. Friday night was fine because Spencer stayed at Kip's. Saturday evening he came home after they had another argument [shocking that two guys would get into an argument after a full day of beer-drinking] and I've been a bundle of stress since. It doesn't bode well for a relationship, when things seem to go better when you're apart...just saying.
In the middle of The Men Who Stare At Goats, Spencer came in last night, telling me about the argument with Kip. Then he wanted me to start the movie over so he could watch it. So, I started the movie over and then he kept saying, "I don't like this movie," and talking over it and looking away at the good parts. I said, "Fine, then leave the room; no one's making you watch the movie." And it went downhill from there...
Our communication can be bad in the best of times; add to that his couple dozen beers, my three, and we might as well each be talking to goats. Spencer's personality goes hot and cold, angry to loving, yelling at the TV to solicitude to me, from "I don't know why you married me," to, "I love you so much." This roller-coaster of not knowing how he'll react to anything raises my blood pressure and makes my nerve endings freak out. But then, in a lucid moment, he gives me the most beautiful compliment I've ever gotten: "You're the reason artists paint pictures." Waaah! Then it's followed with more wild talk and anger at the world. It all makes me want to run...literally having the impulse to run out of the house yelling crazy-cat-lady phrases...with only the fear of embarrassment or involuntary committal keeping me in check. Then tomorrow, when he hopefully sobers up, we'll probably have a wonderful day. Is it any wonder that this up and down road is leading me to LoopDeeLoo Land?
Sometimes I want to be knocked out for only a little while; someone klunk me with a frying pan, or taze me; then take me to a beach, coat me with sunblock, lay me down on a towel, and let me wake up with a book in one hand and a Corona in the other. Preferably a beach in Puerto Rico. I'd be more likely to have Benicio del Toro trip over me.
Breathing deeply, moving on for the day.
Thank you, Dear Reader, for being a "listening ear"; it always makes me feel better to get it out.
:O)
~Pym
Showing posts with label bingeing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bingeing. Show all posts
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Moving Backward...
This is going to be pretty much a stream of consciousness post; I'm not going to worry about paragraphs or spelling. I've had such a horrible past two nights that I've just got to get it out or I'm going to scream! I don't even know what details to give but suffice it to say Spencer is truly driving me insane. I think I'm going to end up in a hospital, or I'm going to put him in a hospital: either a rehab one, or because I've beaned him with a blunt object! And I know when he reads this he's going to only see reasons that he should leave; or reasons to do himself in. He'll fail to see another option: GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!
I think he's purposely trying to push me away; either so he can fulfill this self-destructive, self-fulfilling prophecy of "no one loves me or cares about me" or so I can be the ultimate bitch like his last live-in, fifteen years ago. He keeps saying, when he's drunk, you should leave me, you should divorce me. Maybe I should, but I'm not planning on it.
When he's sober and doing things such as going to our counselor, like just last Wednesday, there is always so much hope! But when he drinks, and then gets a Mr. Hyde personality like he has the last two nights, it's just a nightmare!
I don't know what makes the difference between the "good binges" [if they can really be called that] and these nightmare binges. He has such a self-destructive attitude. Friday night he was saying he didn't want to be here [life] anymore; that wait and he'll be gone. He punched the stove, slammed his fist on the counter, we argued, I cried, I tried to go to bed so he'd leave me alone, but he just follows me...talking...and talking...in my ear, practically smothering me while I'm lying there...sometimes saying scary things, sometimes mean things. I had to hold back from hitting him, which I've done in the past out of pure rage. I drank most of my 1/2 pint of brandy, to try to escape and keep calm; I took a 1/2 xanax. Finally he'd leave the room and I'd bawl my eyes out. Then he came back and finally fell asleep.
When he reads this he's, again, only going to see reasons he should leave or kill himself...I'm terrifying of him hurting himself... Or he's going to hold it against me that I've written all I've written. It'll make him look bad. He's said before [sober], I don't want to be that jerk that everyone points to and says, "there's that guy; he's a jerk; stay away from him" but yet his actions [drunk] push him into that category.
And I know this Mr. Hyde personality isn't really him; it's his terrors, and childhood traumas, and his fears coming out, like some kind of toxicity that seethes through his skin...but the real him is Dr. Jekyll, the loving, kind, smart, and funny person I married.
Gotta take a breath here.
I know I shouldn't be drinking either, and there's no excuse except my need of escape also. I want it so I can be calm and just fall asleep. I've had my own suicidal thoughts as well, and was tempted to down more than brandy, but I won't do that; I know how much a suicide in Spencer's family affected him, and I'd never do that to him or to my family.
That's something I just can't understand: he's so tormented by this suicide of a loved one, but he seems to think he can turn around and put me through that same torment and nightmare. How dare he even consider it? And I also can't fathom, knowing how much Spencer went through with an abusive alcoholic dad, how can it be okay to put me, and us, through it today? I know these are simplistic questions and the answers are multi-layered and oh-so-complex, but to just have him realize the irony would be a start.
Whew, I think I'm a bit spent now, but it feels so good to have gotten a lot off my chest!
I want to also add that Friday night, while I was bawling, I was saying inside, "I need a friend, I need a friend!" and after Spencer fell asleep and I got on the computer for a distraction, in the beautiful synchronicity of the Universe, I was message by a friend, Charlie--someone from my home state who I'd only just begun re-corresponding with in the last few months, a friend whom I love very much, and I thank him for listening to me and giving me some laughs and a lot of support.
Of course the next day, Spencer finds Charlie's cell phone number and asks me if I'm going to leave him. No, Baby, I am NOT planning on leaving you. If I ever do leave, it will not be for another person; it would be to regain my sanity and live by myself! I don't want to live with anyone else; I want to live with the man I married, but it's got to be a sane, productive, thriving existence; we've got the love mastered, how come we can't get the other stuff right?
I think he's purposely trying to push me away; either so he can fulfill this self-destructive, self-fulfilling prophecy of "no one loves me or cares about me" or so I can be the ultimate bitch like his last live-in, fifteen years ago. He keeps saying, when he's drunk, you should leave me, you should divorce me. Maybe I should, but I'm not planning on it.
When he's sober and doing things such as going to our counselor, like just last Wednesday, there is always so much hope! But when he drinks, and then gets a Mr. Hyde personality like he has the last two nights, it's just a nightmare!
I don't know what makes the difference between the "good binges" [if they can really be called that] and these nightmare binges. He has such a self-destructive attitude. Friday night he was saying he didn't want to be here [life] anymore; that wait and he'll be gone. He punched the stove, slammed his fist on the counter, we argued, I cried, I tried to go to bed so he'd leave me alone, but he just follows me...talking...and talking...in my ear, practically smothering me while I'm lying there...sometimes saying scary things, sometimes mean things. I had to hold back from hitting him, which I've done in the past out of pure rage. I drank most of my 1/2 pint of brandy, to try to escape and keep calm; I took a 1/2 xanax. Finally he'd leave the room and I'd bawl my eyes out. Then he came back and finally fell asleep.
When he reads this he's, again, only going to see reasons he should leave or kill himself...I'm terrifying of him hurting himself... Or he's going to hold it against me that I've written all I've written. It'll make him look bad. He's said before [sober], I don't want to be that jerk that everyone points to and says, "there's that guy; he's a jerk; stay away from him" but yet his actions [drunk] push him into that category.
And I know this Mr. Hyde personality isn't really him; it's his terrors, and childhood traumas, and his fears coming out, like some kind of toxicity that seethes through his skin...but the real him is Dr. Jekyll, the loving, kind, smart, and funny person I married.
Gotta take a breath here.
I know I shouldn't be drinking either, and there's no excuse except my need of escape also. I want it so I can be calm and just fall asleep. I've had my own suicidal thoughts as well, and was tempted to down more than brandy, but I won't do that; I know how much a suicide in Spencer's family affected him, and I'd never do that to him or to my family.
That's something I just can't understand: he's so tormented by this suicide of a loved one, but he seems to think he can turn around and put me through that same torment and nightmare. How dare he even consider it? And I also can't fathom, knowing how much Spencer went through with an abusive alcoholic dad, how can it be okay to put me, and us, through it today? I know these are simplistic questions and the answers are multi-layered and oh-so-complex, but to just have him realize the irony would be a start.
Whew, I think I'm a bit spent now, but it feels so good to have gotten a lot off my chest!
I want to also add that Friday night, while I was bawling, I was saying inside, "I need a friend, I need a friend!" and after Spencer fell asleep and I got on the computer for a distraction, in the beautiful synchronicity of the Universe, I was message by a friend, Charlie--someone from my home state who I'd only just begun re-corresponding with in the last few months, a friend whom I love very much, and I thank him for listening to me and giving me some laughs and a lot of support.
Of course the next day, Spencer finds Charlie's cell phone number and asks me if I'm going to leave him. No, Baby, I am NOT planning on leaving you. If I ever do leave, it will not be for another person; it would be to regain my sanity and live by myself! I don't want to live with anyone else; I want to live with the man I married, but it's got to be a sane, productive, thriving existence; we've got the love mastered, how come we can't get the other stuff right?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
New Year's Revelations
The first day of my new year I spent in self-inflicted agony after consuming a bottle of white zinfandel and a bottle of pink champagne New Year's Eve...which brings back the question: is Spencer the only one with the drinking problem? I don't want to answer it today, but it is something to think about.
Today's the second day into the new year, and I'm feeling miles better; but now Spencer is down for the count with a cold. It's my turn to care for him as he cared for me yesterday. He was kinder to me in my hungover state than I would have been to him, I admit.
We're doing some much-needed cleaning around our house, including going through years of papers belonging to us and to his recently deceased mom. Shredding and plowing through all this stuff is cathartic.
Something else that was cathartic for Spencer was, on New Year's Eve, while blazing drunk, he kept muttering "I've done you wrong, I've done you wrong." Of course one can't say that and not expect the other person to keep prying as to "what is it you've done??" Being that I was also three sheets to the wind, I figured I wasn't going to care much whatever it was.
It turns out that, before we were actually married but after we'd become a couple, Spencer had some sexual exploits about which I was not informed. He says he cheated but as we weren't married yet, I can't use as strong a word. And since I'd out-and-out cheated in my first marriage, I don't have much of a leg to stand on anyway. I'm just truly glad that he feels better for having told me. And really the timing couldn't have been better seeing as how I was happily toasted at the time of the revelation.
I'm oddly not mad at all. We've been married a few years now and anything before seems so long ago anyway. I did take the opportunity while the air was being cleared to tell Spencer about a couple instances in which Cary and I performed acts I wasn't forthcoming about myself. Spencer knows of all the times when Cary and I have met, but I didn't feel I could reveal that a) Cary and I did anal and b) I swallowed [well at least 75% of it] once with Cary; things that I hadn't done with Spencer in a long time, and I thought it would hurt his feelings that I did these things with someone else.
So those instances are off my chest, and now, too, I've revealed this blog to Spencer. He can read it all he wants, but if he gets angry at my honesty and wants to vent, he can get his own blog.
We'll have to think of a suitable acronym for him: PAYMANDS? Polyamorous Alcoholic Yankee Married to an Anxious Neurotic in the Deep South?
Today's the second day into the new year, and I'm feeling miles better; but now Spencer is down for the count with a cold. It's my turn to care for him as he cared for me yesterday. He was kinder to me in my hungover state than I would have been to him, I admit.
We're doing some much-needed cleaning around our house, including going through years of papers belonging to us and to his recently deceased mom. Shredding and plowing through all this stuff is cathartic.
Something else that was cathartic for Spencer was, on New Year's Eve, while blazing drunk, he kept muttering "I've done you wrong, I've done you wrong." Of course one can't say that and not expect the other person to keep prying as to "what is it you've done??" Being that I was also three sheets to the wind, I figured I wasn't going to care much whatever it was.
It turns out that, before we were actually married but after we'd become a couple, Spencer had some sexual exploits about which I was not informed. He says he cheated but as we weren't married yet, I can't use as strong a word. And since I'd out-and-out cheated in my first marriage, I don't have much of a leg to stand on anyway. I'm just truly glad that he feels better for having told me. And really the timing couldn't have been better seeing as how I was happily toasted at the time of the revelation.
I'm oddly not mad at all. We've been married a few years now and anything before seems so long ago anyway. I did take the opportunity while the air was being cleared to tell Spencer about a couple instances in which Cary and I performed acts I wasn't forthcoming about myself. Spencer knows of all the times when Cary and I have met, but I didn't feel I could reveal that a) Cary and I did anal and b) I swallowed [well at least 75% of it] once with Cary; things that I hadn't done with Spencer in a long time, and I thought it would hurt his feelings that I did these things with someone else.
So those instances are off my chest, and now, too, I've revealed this blog to Spencer. He can read it all he wants, but if he gets angry at my honesty and wants to vent, he can get his own blog.
We'll have to think of a suitable acronym for him: PAYMANDS? Polyamorous Alcoholic Yankee Married to an Anxious Neurotic in the Deep South?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sundays
One more day before going back to work. Spencer had a binge last night with his knucklehead friend Kip. I call him a knucklehead because his personality grates and he's a jerk for the most part, but I should thank him for taking Spencer in at his place for the evening and keeping him out of my hair while they drink. [Man, I sound like a bitch.] And since he's within walking distance I don't have to worry about Spencer driving.
I admit I had my own mini-binge while he was gone [4 or 5 beers]; and yes, I do ask myself the question, why do I deal with his alcoholism with alcohol? Legitimate question. Lame but honest answer: I want to escape for a short time. Sort of the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" syndrome.
Sunday afternoons and evenings are usually quite pleasant around our place. I must lower myself and thank the fundys for not allowing alcohol sales on Sunday; it at least gives me a built-in respite. Actually I don't give a crap if it's Sunday or Tuesday, I just like knowing there's one day we're 99% in the clear.
Must dash, still work to do around the house; and maybe a chance to chat with Cary ;O)
--Pym
I admit I had my own mini-binge while he was gone [4 or 5 beers]; and yes, I do ask myself the question, why do I deal with his alcoholism with alcohol? Legitimate question. Lame but honest answer: I want to escape for a short time. Sort of the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" syndrome.
Sunday afternoons and evenings are usually quite pleasant around our place. I must lower myself and thank the fundys for not allowing alcohol sales on Sunday; it at least gives me a built-in respite. Actually I don't give a crap if it's Sunday or Tuesday, I just like knowing there's one day we're 99% in the clear.
Must dash, still work to do around the house; and maybe a chance to chat with Cary ;O)
--Pym
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