The kids are on the bus, and I embark on my first full week with them in school, sober. I have a renewed energy after this weekend. I did it. I made it though my first weekend without alcohol, and I feel amazing. I'm proud of myself, and not to mention, I feel really physically awesome. Sleep is getting better, albeit I am still having weird dreams, but my energy levels are up, my headaches are down and my overall attitude is positive. I am happy.
In the past, most Mondays have been spent feeling guilty about one thing or another. Maybe I got too drunk on Saturday. Maybe I woke up too hungover Sunday and slept in too late, neglecting the kids for hours. Maybe I sent a drunken text message that I feel embarrassed by, or I question - shit did I ever send that text? I forget because I drank too much. Maybe I subtly pissed off Evan in one way or another with my drinking and we chose to ignore it and sweep it under the rug, thus causing a slightly further divide between us. All of these things would slowly start to culminate and add up over the course of the weekend, as I ignored them and pretended they weren't happening. I know that this was always the case, and I just couldn't face that it was my reality. Until Monday rolled around and too many days of heavy drinking hit me like a ton of bricks, because I always would go into the weekend full steam ahead with the booze.
Today is different because nothing like that is weighing on me today. None of that anxiety and guilt. I feel so light. Free. Ready for my week ahead.
I don't blame Evan for those looks he would give me on Monday mornings. Or rather the lack of looks. The averted eyes, the minimal conversation, the disgusted short quipped responses to my questions. I don't blame him. But, they hurt. The memories still sting. I would sulk in my bedroom after he left for work, alone in my closet wondering how I could do better. I knew deep down what I needed to do, but I just didn't know how to do it. A lot of times I would deflect my hurt onto him and turn it into anger. I would say to myself, what an asshole. What an unsupportive, mean husband. I wouldn't text him for the rest of the day, to make him feel some of my pain. To make him know how it feels to be neglected. Because I didn't want to face the problem. My problem.
I don't blame him for handling it that way. Lord knows he tried to help me time and time again. I didn't want the help back then. I didn't know I wanted it or needed it as much as I did. Again, I was in a sort of fog, denial, or perhaps living in fear. Maybe all of the above.
Time to look forward and focus on the present though. Today, I am grateful for the productive, peaceful morning we had together getting the kids ready for school. There was a lightness in the room, a feeling of calm. I think the kids sensed it, because it wasn't a huge battle to get them ready for school and it was a pretty seamless transition onto the bus for a Monday, even though they all got up later than I would have preferred. Maybe the kids chalked it up to holiday excitement, who knows? ... I know it was more than that. I could feel a new energy in this house, and I am grabbing onto it with both hands. I don't want to let it go, and I don't want to lose this feeling. 8 days sober.
