No More Self Medicating
September 17 2017
I’ve been thinking about what my life has been like the last 8 months, since my world fucking imploded. Or exploded…whatever is worse. The first 5 months I spent in limbo; still living together, without our kids knowing anything that was going on behind the curtain.
Yeah, we did that. He wasn’t going to move out until our entire separation agreement was finalized, signed and done with, along with putting the house solely in my name. That in itself was an ordeal of something that I had never thought I would be doing. I had barely worked since coming off maternity leave, because of my illness and well…dealing with my crumbled life. Although I worked full time in veterinary medicine….that shit aint lucrative. I wasn’t rolling in the dough. But I could do it. Luckily for me and I did.
And then he moved out. Mothers day weekend. Everyone was so concerned how that would affect my mental health; that it would be more crushing for me for him to go that weekend. But fuck. I had been living in a fucking limbo of a life for five months. Five months of being driven by hope and crushed by reality, over and over and over again. So when this time finally came, I didn’t give a fuck what day it was. It felt like a release; the weight of this hope was being removed. And I felt like, maybe, my healing could begin.
The thing so many people don’t think about is what it’s like when a relationship of this magnitude ends. He moved down the street, in with his parents, for the time being. So he was close. Too close. He could still be involved with the kids, and not far, but it also meant that the line was so blurred of our “relationship” at that point. Neither of us knew how to navigate this and, yet again, I was so driven by fucking hope, that I didn’t want to be the one to kibosh it…..because WHAT IF. It was slowly and yet not slowly killing me. And I couldn’t do it.
Then came the moment it truly ENDED. Done. The line was drawn and I had to keep telling myself it was the ONLY way for things to change. For the last 3.5 months, we’ve followed our custody and separation agreement, which meant that for the first time ever since having kids, I was kidless at times. Every other weekend, it was just me. Wanna know what I did? I crumbled into a shell every other weekend, starting at 6pm on Friday. I began going out, drinking, ordering in copious amounts of takeout and eating it in my bed. For the last 3.5 months, I was not sober for the entire every other weekend. I simply couldn’t bear to be alone with my thoughts. I needed to escape the pain and tragedy of what my body and soul was fighting. During the week and during my weekends, I was totally sober. There was never any crossover here; thankfully. But it still was taking its toll on me.
I haven’t had a single drink on this trip. I haven’t even wanted it. I also haven’t had any junk food. I haven’t wanted that either. Which is really fucking weird. It’s like, I am ok with me. I’m ok with being in my thoughts. I know that when I get home, I’m done. I’m not going out, creating an alternate reality to appease my painful thoughts. I just can’t do it. I’m afraid it WILL begin to crossover and I cannot let that happen. My kids are my everything and I do everything for them; which means I also have to LIVE for them and I can’t do something that could change that.
