WAW's (please read intro to WaW's)

Tuesday night
I'm gonna write through this. I've no idea if I will post or not, or even what that would depend on.
I feel like my throat is closing . . . One comment is all it took. No, not here on this blog, in real life. How can I blame it on one comment, that can't be right or even truthful can it. Was the seed not already planted.
I don't know ...
I think you do, really, don't you?

I'll spellcheck this but I'm not gonna edit to make it more readable, otherwise I'll change things.
I'll re-write the past, once it has become the past.
So let's stay in the present shall we?
How about the truth here. Or can't you remember? How did it really start today. When did it really start?

Was it when you got the text from Mum saying that they were having  a great time in Wales? They being Mum and hubby plus my brother and his wife. The family. Is that when the tide turned. Feeling excluded. Did the text ask if I was doing well? No. Did it say they were missing me? No. It just said what a great time they were all having. Good. Great. Just like a holiday text/postcard should say. . . . Did it say "Wish you were here"? No. Fuck the lot of them then ... And simmer gently for two hours.

Bring to the boil.

Exclusion. Resentment ... Anger even. This will all need to be dealt with of course. I won't get far carrying that load around with me. I could honestly write here all night ... every sentence feels like it needs to be followed by "but that's another post" ... So much stuff. So so much stuff to mend.
So much to learn. And unlearn.

Anyway, if that is when my stomach started to tie itself in knots ... Why did I try to blame it on a comment that was made two hours later? OK, that's simple ... because I needed something to blame. I didn't know at that point what had brought it on. So I blamed the comment. But I wouldn't have worked that out unless I'd been writing this. This is one of the reasons that I question whether to post this type of "post" ... It's just the"whys and wherefores" really. It's only of use to me and I wouldn't imagine of any interest to anyone.

So having fought it for a couple of hours ...  Now you see, as soon as I say "fought it" I think, well that's a whole subject in itself. That's like me saying I just had a boxing match with Tyson . . . I've not learnt how to fight effectively. Just as I don't have any training in boxing. I haven't yet learnt how to use all of weapons available in this fight . . . I don't even have some of the weapons. Yet.

Ok so how come you put up such a good fight yesterday? in that state ... and won. Ah well that's different, another subject to be explored . . . that was "her" trying to talk me into it as a reward for such a hard day. But I knew the hard bit of the day was over and I got the upper hand. Tonight it was on offer as an anaesthetic. Very different matter. This was not of the "you know you want it" variety, more the "you know you need it". No wonder I noticed the sly suppressed smile last night. She wasn't planning tactics at all. Maybe letting me win the battle the night before was enough. Confidence up. Guard down. Boxing.

Where were we? We!? I mean me, Where was I?   . . . having fought this for a couple of  hours and settled down for the evening, Stropster came in tired and hungry. Ready to snap? He was much later than usual as he goes to college on Tuesdays. I got up to sort his food, wash the plates from our dinner earlier and ask him about his day . . . He picked up on something not quite right "Are you mardy?" (a bit down/pissed off)
"No just a bit tired and I've been thinking about that shit . . . trying to fight it. Battle weary"
"O Great! So what done? . . . you've been and got some!" (in a very accusatory tone)  As if every time I battle, I give in and score . . . that's how it came across. We were both tired and irritable. Not thinking. Only reacting.
I suppose he doesn't know about the many battles I've fought and won in the last two months. How would he? You see, that's another subject. He may well think that the only time I battled was when I had my relapse ... therefore lost. He doesn't know there can be several battles in a day. He presumed that in telling him I was struggling,  I was pre-empting a confession.Wrong. But not to blame. I don't talk about the battles with the kids. It's not their fight.

So. BANG!!
"No I fucking didn't go and get any . . . I was just saying it's been eating at me and I'm tired from fighting it" (and looking after you three day in, day out, alone . . . but I didn't say that)

This built up until he said . . .

"I don't know why you're bothering. It's not as if any of US are gonna benefit from YOU getting clean NOW!! ... Only YOU!! . . . Twelve years too fucking late mother!!! . . . You've done bringing me and Geekster up. We've had twelve years of it . . " and on and on it went. He needs to say this. Do I need to hear it. I already know it.

I can't remember all the words . . . I remember staring at the bubbles going down the plughole. I remember my breathing getting heavier and catching in my throat, feeling like I might burst into tears. I remember my eyes stinging and I remember picking some bits of tomato and mushroom out the plughole and throwing them in the bin. Hard. The pain was getting a bit too much.

I didn't even try to put up a fight. I swear I didn't. I didn't think how crap and tired I will feel tomorrow. I didn't think there's only THREE  hours left of this day. I didn't believe I could cope with three more minutes of this day. The text was sent. Gone. Damage done. And I knew it. 

No matter how much bullshit you try and feed yourself at this point, such as . . ." Maybe it won't happen . .  I've ordered it but I don't have to use it . . . I could throw it away . . . Maybe he has ran out and I can't score" . . No matter how much, you know it's all bullshit

So what now. Do I try and justify it. No. Absolutely NOT. A few weeks ago maybe.
No. I'll go and get some fighting lessons. Thank God I've got one tomorrow. I'll go and get tooled up. And learn how to deal with these feelings that I'm so desperate to anaesthetise.

I'm an idiot. A fool. I know I should focus on the last 6 days where I haven't used but that just doesn't seem relevant now. In the end I did not, for one second, consider the consequences.There was no clear thought at that time . . . just a muddle of pain, anger and agitation that needed soothing.  Something that needed un-knotting. I didn't un-knot it . . . I just killed the pain that the knot was causing. It needs proper un-ravelling.

I will learn how to sooth these pains. How to unravel the tangle of anger and resentment. I'll learn how to put up a good fight until I've learnt how to deal with the pain myself. I know I can do this and I will do this.

Please bear with me ... I think so much of you good people. I appreciate you all and don't want anyone to think I'm not serious about this. I'm grateful for every bit of encouragement and support. I don't want anyone to feel they are wasting their time with me. That would be awful and is another reason why I would like to not post this. But I have to be honest here . . . If I'm not then I really would be wasting my time and yours.
3am. Bed-time.