HOLY CRAP.

I'm pregnant again.

So I guess I'm in AA now.

I seem to have hit bottom. It was Babykins birthday party. I drank too much. Way too much. So much that I blacked out. At my son's first birthday party. And apparently I fed him, bathed him, and nursed him, all blacked out. Jesus fucking Christ. That's not good. Thank God we're all okay. But I don't want that for my son. I don't want that for my husband. And I sure as hell don't want that for me. I felt so ashamed the next day. And husband was pissed. He's not said a word to me about my drinking since the discovery of his sex addiction 2 1/2 years ago. He tried to talk to me about it, but I was so upset and so ashamed that I couldn't take it.

So I started going to AA meetings last week. And I'm definitely an alcoholic. Definitely. No doubts about it. Anyway. That's it for now. I'll talk more about this another time. Maybe I'll change the name to My Husband is a Sex Addict and I'm an Alcoholic.

Yeah, I've got a problem with alcohol

Back when husband was acting out, this was our pattern. I'd come home from work, usually late, usually around 9 pm, we'd crack open a bottle of wine, we'd eat dinner, then husband would escape into the front room and do his acting out, meeting ladies (supposedly) online for their hours of cyber-sex while I sat in our bedroom on our bed sipping on red wine and entering sweepstakes online. Really, that's what every night looked like. We were both escaping. Now, things are different.

But not really.

My anxiety went through the roof after babykins came into the picture, as did my insomnia. At about 4 months post-partum, I developed a raging dependence on benzos. Ativan & Xanax. I know about people who are very addicted to benzos, and I'm not really in that realm, but I was taking about .25 - .50 mg of ativan to help me sleep each night.   I also started drinking again pretty quickly after I delivered the baby. I don't mean drinking with a capital D. I mean drinking. One dark beer each night. Rationalizing-- it's good for my milk supply.

 Then I knew I had to quit the benzos so I did.  Because, yes, I was breastfeeding my son with benzos in my body. Again, not high levels, very low levels, my prescription said not to breastfeed him within 6 hours of taking .5 mg of ativan. But usually he'd wake up and I'd nurse him.  Please don't comment and lecture me. I hate myself for it.  I also had some xanax hanging around the house (it's husbands) which I would take when ativan wasn't cutting it.

I also take either benadryl or 1/2 of a unisom to fall asleep each night.

Goddamnit. I want to be able to sleep without medication. I really do. 

Now, I think I can quit benzos because of the mere fact that we only have about 5 xanax left. They're going to run out and I won't have them.

But that leaves me to alcohol. I drink every night.  Usually one glass of wine or one beer. Sometimes two. And then, every once in a while, usually on a Thursday or Friday night, it's 3.

Last night was bad. It was one glass of wine while watching the world series. Then one beer after babykins went to sleep. Then a xanax (a whole .5 mg pill, I usually only take a half) then a glass of wine, then 2 benadryls.  I passed out.

Then woke up with raging anxiety about how fucking much I hate myself.


I have been waking up in the middle of the night with anxiety about how much I hate myself because of drinking alcohol for 20 years.   I know that drinking 1-3 drinks isn't DRINKING the way drinking is for many. But I hate it.

I hate it.

I fucking hate it.

And I make these grandiose statements about quitting booze all the time.


And I go for one day. Sometimes I can go for two.  But alcohol has such a fucking grip on me that it feels impossible. I feel like the urge is impossible to contain.

If I were my Psychologist, I'd tell me to get thee to an AA immediately. Not to think about it, just do it. Be in the program. Be part of the program. Find a women's meeting. If I were my patient, I'd have all the typical excuses that I have. I don't want people to see me. I don't have time. I don't want to never drink again.... Then Psychologist me would remind patient me that I don't never have to drink again. That it's one day at a time. Then patient me would say, "yeah...but..." then psychologist me would tell me that my alcoholism is making excuses for me not to go. Then patient me would get angry and reject the disease model. Then Psychologist me would say, "yes, the disease model is not for everyone..." and ask me to just think about it, to just check out a few meetings. Patient me would agree.

Thank god I'm not my own shrink. I feel like an exhausting patient.


Meanwhile, I don't want to drink anymore. I really don't.  Not the way I do.

I'm not going to say that I'm planning on being sober for 30 days or 90 days or a week even. But I'm going to say that I'm not going to drink just for today. And if I need a drink really badly, I'm going to try to write about it here.

Husband is not the only addict in the family. And I don't want babykins to grow up with parents who drink in the home. I don't want him to have a problem with alcohol. The only way to help that is to be a good example. I can't control him and what he does or doesn't do as he becomes an adult in years to come, but I can control myself, and I can be a better person, and if he grows up with two loving, centered, grounded parents, that might be a better way for him to grow up, he might have a better shot at life.

I want to be balanced. I want to sleep without drugs. I want to be grounded. I want to meditate daily. I want my body to be filled with healthy food and fruit and vegetables and not wine and ice cream and beer and hotdogs. (I don't eat hot dogs).

I want to be free from the fucking grip that alcohol has on me.

Fuck you wine.

Fuck you TV shows that have women sitting around with wine glasses all the time. Fuck articles in the NY times touting that 2-3 glasses of red wine each night is the secret elixer to a long life. Fuck anything that helps me to justify my habit.

My Heart Hurts

Husband, Babykins and I raced across the country to see family. Husband is on his way back home now and Babykins and me are staying here for the week. I am so, so, so very sad. I lost my mother ten years ago. Now it looks like I'm soon going to be losing my stepmother. I love her so very much. She means the world to me. Husband is being great. Dealing with my pain. Taking care of the baby, taking care of me, of us. Still doing his program. I'm happy I stuck it out with him. Babykins is still a blessing.

I hate cancer.

So my stepmother is sick with cancer and I'm scared to death that she's going to die. She's been with the ovarian cancer for the past 6 years, and now, after treatments, remission, etc, it's been spreading and aggressively growing. I fucking hate cancer. My mother dying when I was in my 20's was traumatic. My stepmother, who is my best friend in the world, if I lose her, I don't know what I'll do with myself. I'm a fucking wreck right now. I'm such a wreck. I feel so lonely. Husband has me living 3000 miles away from my family because of his job. His job is something that he cares about very much. But doesn't make him very much money. For that I am resentful. I missed out on my Mom and I don't want to miss out again. I'm miserable. I hate being so far away. Locked up with Husband and no where near my family.

Anxiety

Here are things I like about being a Mommy: The Baby
Here are things I don't like about being a Mommy: Everything except the baby.

Oh the baby is more than I could have ever asked for. He's beautiful and sweet, he laughs at everything, and lights up when he sees me, lights up even more when he sees Daddy.

But Mommy is a wreck. My body is tored up. Not just from my C-section and pregnancy (it's been 7 months already). But by lack of sleep. I keep getting sick. Like really sick. My anxiety is through the roof, so even if the baby can sleep, I can't. We moved him into his own room last week and it's been horrible for me. I keep watching him on the baby monitor and I can't see his little body moving, so I can't detect breath, so I have to get up and walk into his room to see if he's breathing. I do that many, many times a night. I am getting migraines, I am getting sore throats and bad colds constantly. And did I mention my hernia from carrying him? And my inability to digest gluten? My stomach is wrecked. And I've become agorophobic. I'm afraid of being outside without him. Afraid that someone will kill me and leave him without me. I'm afraid that because I'm not sleeping and my immune system is compromised, I'm going to get cancer and die. I'm afraid (really afraid) that someone is going to break into our apartment in the middle of the night and kill us.

To make matters worse, husband has been working late for the past 2 weeks. Last Friday night he didn't even get home till close to 11. I was by myself watching Forrest Gump. I watched it once before, 18 years ago with my boyfriend at the time. I was high. I laughed at all  inappropriate moments. That wasn't good.  I got one of my friends to give me a prescription for Ativan (I'm a psychologist so I have lots of friends who can do things like that). She made me promise that I wouldn't take it and breastfeed for 6 hours. I've been taking 1/2 of the lowest dose possible it each night before I go to sleep, after the baby is down. But there's no way it's 6 hours until I breastfeed again. So then I sit there and ruminate about how I'm totally fucking up the baby's brain.  I finally made an appointment with a therapist. But I'm a horrible therapy client. I really am. I would never want me as a client. I'm what my kinds calls "resistant."  I also made an appointment with an acupuncturist and a meditation lady because I need a little self care that has nothing to do with the baby.

I'm also in the process of publishing a book on something psychology related. I like this blog because I can put my fucking a mess parts up here and no one will know it's me. Because I'm a fucking mess inside right now. But outside, you should see me. I present like I've got all my shit together. HAHAHA! If anyone knew. If my clients knew how anxious I am. How I use and abuse alcohol, pills, food.  Not excessively. But still, I do. I'm so far from perfect. Which is fine. I don't expect to be, nor do I need to be. But this time of life is so, so very hard.

I miss my Mommy like crazy. She's dead. She's been dead for 10 years. I watched her die of a disgusting disease. She was 54. When I'm 54 my baby will be 17 years old. I hope he doesn't have to watch me die.   I cry for my mom all the time. I feel so alone here on the other side of the country from the rest of my family.  I hate husband for keeping me on this stupid coast that's full of *annoying ass fuckers. I hate him for keeping me here because he loves his less than 70,000 per year job. I used to be the breadwinner, but now I have to take care of baby. And I'm so fucking tired. Goddamnit I'm tired. And I'm sick. I'm so fucking sick with whatever cough/cold/sore throat. And my body hurts. My neck and shoulders hurt. Like hell. I popped a vicodin yesterday leftover from my C-section. It made me feel worse. I suffered all day long with a goddamned migraine.

And I feel like a single parent because husband is always fucking working. Stupid fucking workaholic just for the sake of having to do everything to the extreme. I know he's working and not acting out, before you ask.

My body and mind are on hyper alert and all I want to do is sleep. I need sleep. I'm depressed, I'm anxious, I'm a wreck.

Thanks for listening.


*this should read "annoying-ass fuckers" not "annoying ass-fuckers," this is not meant to be homophobic or critical of anal love making. 

I still exist

Hi There blog. I love you. I really do. You are the one thing that has helped me process through  Husband's recovery. You have always been there for me and never let me down, and still continue to be here for me after months of not posting. And yet I neglect you. It's not you. It's me. And the new man in my life. He takes up all my time. I have to tell you that he's much, much younger than you, and has been keeping me up all hours of the night. Not only am I the center of his universe, not only does he love me more than he loves anyone one else in the world, but he's totally obsessed with my boobs. He also loves to cuddle and when he looks into my eyes, I feel like everything is right with the world. I never thought that I could love anyone as much as I love him.  Don't feel bad. I'm still here and I still care about you as much as ever... But I'm just not as into you anymore. You don't consume my life and my thoughts like you once did.  There's someone who is more important in my world. Oh I'll check in when I can. I really will. You stick around and wait for me, because I still NEED you. I do. And when the man in my life becomes less enchanted with me (in 13 years or so) I will really need you. But for now, please be satisfied with my periodic check-ins and know that I am here and I still love you.

kisses,

Laney.