The Rawest Post EVER
I can't keep pretending, denying, procrastinating, avoiding.
I can't keep PLANNING on leaving!
Oh, I have planned so many exits. So many books on so many exits. I'm constantly thinking about how I should and can chronicle my exit from this alcoholic marriage.
I'm not exiting.
God, I want out.
I want out, I want out, I want out.
All I want is OUT.
My own home that is filled with love and happiness and laughter and yes, disagreements and misunderstandings and even arguments but none that start, include or end with any version of "fuck you."
Tonight it was an "innocent" (if there is such a thing as anything "innocent" in the alcoholic household) conversation among the family except I disagreed with his point.
And he was drunk.
So eventually, while we thought it was just a fun family discussion, for him it became an attack.
"UP YOURS! OH FUCK YOU!"
Etc., etc., etc.
I have to become viciously, singularly, myopically, freakishly dedicated to moving out.
David Goggins was a "fat black man" (his words, not mine) who had virtually NO CHANCE of ever becoming a Navy SEAL. And yet....18 months after making the decision that is what he wanted, that is what he got.
My own house.
It is my Super Bowl ring, my Olympic gold medal, my World Series championship, my Triple Crown winner circle, my Navy SEAL-ness.
In 18 months!
I have no idea how.
But I don't need to know how.
I just need to know that it's there.
And if I will take my energy away from this God-forsaken marriage I find myself in and project it onto my truest desires...
Amazing things WILL happen.
Many years ago, it was a night no different than tonight other than it was the first time I was to be screamed at, cursed at and verbally abused by my alcoholic husband, and I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. Then I tried to find something, anything on the Internet but there was nothing. Not really. I started this blog because I wanted to be that something that I couldn't find for someone else. But I have been over thinking this blog thing. I need to just sit down and write because this existence as the wife of an alcoholic is soul-sucking. And when it's sucking your soul at midnight or two am or four am, it's particularly isolating and lonely.
Whoever is listening now, their husband drunk and snoring in the bedroom or on the couch or slumped in his favorite chair, don't wait as long as I did (20+ years) to start a Life-Plan.
I wish I had started yesterday and the yesterday before that and the yesterday before that.
But at least I'm starting now.
And not "tomorrow."