Back In Black

Today and yesterday have been rough. Hell, all last week, my recent resignation started taking it's toll on my faith, hope and sanity. Although all fear-based thoughts which I know to avoid, I still succumbed to it. Languished in it. Yes I had been drinking. Struggling with the guilt of using again as well.

Driving to the local market after an AA meeting. Buying vodka. Sneaking around the store in case another AA member spots me. I can ditch the booze discreetly, chat a bit, watch them leave the store. Then go back and retrieve that bottle.

But I've been running from myself for so long. Not wanting to be *me* and wanting something different, but feeling unsure what that looks like.

I have chosen not to drink today. And going to AA later tonight. Feels good to say that.

When I was with Roscoe, I started self-medicating heavily because I was becoming what I hated when around him. Like a repeated game of chew up, spit out, then allow the offender to repeat the sick game for 13 years.

And life really sucked for me. Because of what I allowed in my world.

Then he would judge me and compare ***his drinking habit*** with my newly acquired one. I wanted to be numb daily. Slip into my own little drunk world and imagine how life *could* be one day. Without doing anything about the raging mess I created for my heart.

Roscoe would walk into the kitchen where I'd set up shop in my favorite chair, leaning back, feet kicked up on the sink (my makeshift recliner), laptop on hand and a big glass of lemon, water and copious amounts of Burnett's Vodka. I might've been singing along to a song quietly or surfing ebay minding my own business:

"You're DRUNK! Already??? It's fucking 9am in the morning. You've got a serious problem!"

Pot. Kettle. Black.

And this started some of our more infamous and violent fights.

And as a side note on this oh-so virtuous alcoholic, here's his wrap sheet:

*4 DWIs
*1 Hit and run (not related to the DWIs)
*17K in back child support for a kid he's never wanted to meet or support
*Has worked maybe 7 months in 6 years; can't hold a job
*Suspended license (still)
*Never paid one bill in 13 years with me
*No checking or savings account
*Drives the car his mom *gave* to him
*He's 43 and now dating a 28 yr old(who's 4 years older than his daughter, for which he owes back support)
*Lives in his parents basement, until the 28 year old gets an apartment for them both. He has NO CREDIT and BAD CREDIT.
*And he's still not working probably

He would never let up or just let-me-be. He'd smell my water to detect vodka, and then look at the clock, then back at me:

"Seriously? What's happening to you?" And never in a kind, caring or empathetic manner. He was cruel. He'd begin talking about my fat ass. Called me an old drunken hag, many times over. Horrible names.

He'd bash me to his friends, my friends and my brother. About my drinking habits. Again, not in a I-really-care-about Ruby kind of way. No. Always the judge and jury. He damned me for finding a way (drinking) to deal with all his bullshit. Problem was he didn't think anything was wrong with him.

I'd ask him for simple things: "No" was always the answer. And yet I stayed.

I had left him a thousand times in my mind. And abused myself with bulimia and alcohol as punishment for the person I had become-- I didn't want to be around me anymore. And so the drinking continued and escalated. Because for some twisted reason, I couldn't leave him.

Even as I write this, I'm craving an escape from the emotions erupting inside me.

Gonna stop writing for now.