Home for the holidaze

Home for a long Memorial Day weekend, 5 days worth. On Thursday, I couldn't wait to leave the office and get home. By Wednesday following, I couldn't wait to leave home and get to the office. I have been on this wheel many, many times.

Happiness, someone once said, is looking forward to going home and looking forward to going to work.

What is it when you can't wait to leave wherever you are, yet don't like where you're going?

Part of me keeps expecting, hoping for something different when I get home. Bargaining I think they call it.

But H was true to form, only up for a few hours a day (eat, bathroom, and a bit of TV (Oprah and Dr. Phil)) spread out over 3 or 4 stints. And when he was up, he was rummy, slow, somewhat odd in focusing on bad things that happen, his health issues, etc…predictable, really.

He keeps telling me "I don't know why I’m so tired; I just want to sleep all the time." I mention that he's been this way for years now, that he hasn't felt well in a long, long time. "I don't know what's wrong with me…must be because I didn't get to bed early enough last night. I'm going to lie down now."

And so I find myself at home alone, again, save for that sick man that sleeps all the time in our old bedroom and a few pets that need my, well any, attention. Everyone in the house wants something from me…needs something from me, yet I am not nurtured here.

To offset my despair and loneliness, I medicate myself with alcohol, etc. Now, I have great concern about my need to drink so that I feel normal, although I haven't written about it here much. Right now, I am able to manage what I'm doing…to keep from sliding further into alcoholism...but I fear that I won't be able to hold it at this level forever.

I remember years ago talking with a couples' counselor about my concerns about my drinking and he said, "Well, it's understandable. But if you're still worried about it 2 or 3 years after he dies, then that's another issue." OK, so now we're 8+ years after that conversation.

But this weekend, I tried and tried to not hit the stuff or just to have less, but without my usual, I just can't deal with what is left for me at home. My distress is too high…so I leave for awhile and it follows me home again. After a few drinks, I feel more normal and can actually function without freaking out; and after a few more, I don't care that I can't function anymore and I don't mind so much that life is slipping away from me also.

By Weds, when I came back to work, my brain is addled from a weekend of imbibing and despair and I'm just sad and feel the distress well up again and am not able to focus on work at all today. Ahhh, just another day with a hangover. And I have lost yet more days in a daze.

Good thing I only drink at home, alone.