I’ve been having a hard time keeping my head above water lately. DS is having some bodily/health issues, DH is as demanding and self-absorbed as ever, my semester in grad school is wrapping up, my job has become this very needy and inflexible environment, everyone wants a piece of me and I already feel so fragmented.
Some things occur to me and the fact that they *still* occur to me is a good, hopeful sign that my emotional state is still salvageable. I cope better when I keep reminding myself of things to be thankful for. I know it sounds overly simplistic, but it does help. It doesn’t solve my problems, but it does help me to deal with them without losing my shit, and that’s priceless, because I can’t afford to lose it. I don’t get that option.
So, yeah. I feel like shit. But DH hasn’t drank in two days. Most likely he’ll turn around and make up for lost time by getting completely shitfaced the next time he pours a drink. It’s a pattern I’m well versed in. But for now, I feel thankful that he’s held out for two days. I needed those two days. DS needed those two days, although he’s too little to understand that he needed them.
I’ve also been thinking about how DH is probably on the autism spectrum. Change is difficult for people on the spectrum and curbing a drinking habit is hard for all alcoholics. He confided in me that he was thinking of limiting his drinking to the weekends. “I think it’s having an effect on my temperament.” (NOOOOOOOO WAAAAAY! *gasp!* Fer real????? Hadn’t noticed. 0_0 ) He has those kinds of epiphanies when he’s hung over. I’m not holding my breath, but I went along with it. I told him:
“Yeah, booze messes with your sleep. It’s not doing anything good for your physical state or your mental state. Your drinking’s doing pretty bad things to *my* mental state, too, if you want the truth, but I’m not going to nag you about it. This is your personal battle, just like my weight was mine, so I won’t nag you because you didn’t nag me.” and then I dropped the subject. He just nodded. We’ve had similar heart-to-heart convos about his drinking before. He forgets them as soon as the hangover becomes a distant memory, but I’ve already made good on my refusal to nag. I won’t nag, but I also won’t stay and wait very much longer. Clock’s ticking. I’m done chopping up pieces of myself to feed everyone else.
Maybe I’ll try something new and ask DH to work out with me. Make us both feel human again.