Saturday morning wake up call

I woke up in my own bed. Not in a parking lot. Not in my driveway. Not in a hotel room because I got mad and left and didn’t want to sleep in my car. But in my own bed. Albeit next to the guy that isn’t speaking to me, but I’ll take it. I’m used to the silent treatment. Just another day in the freakin’ “paradise” someone created called marriage.

Kids are laughing and happy making breakfast together. That’s what I need to start the day off.

Tomorrow makes a week of sobriety.

I won’t get cocky.

Humble is the way to go.

My Saturday morning wake up call is the silent alarm bell going off in my head that says sobriety is better.

Ray is sober.

Staying sober while having teenagers

Lord, have mercy. I need to find a handbook for dealing with teenagers.

Or in my case, a book dealing with teenagers while trying to stay sober. Maybe I should write that book…. OF WHAT NOT TO DO!!! Grief.

One minute, we can talk and laugh. The next minute, she hates me, talks about me behind my back and then when I confront her with it she snottily says, “Well I can guarantee you it’s all true! But you probably wouldn’t know if it happened or not!”

Ouch. My mother would have slapped me right in the mouth. I don’t believe in that. I walked away, rounded up all her electronics, got in a fight with her father about punishment for her (she’s his baby girl and can do no wrong and I’m evil) and am now waiting on her to get off the phone so I can take it as well.

I have three other children, two that are grown and gone, and they have never disrespected me like that ever. Where did I go wrong with this one?

One good thing I got right today? No hidden alcohol to drown it all out.

Ray is pissed, disappointed and disrespected…


My paranoid button has been pushed

As I have said before, when I quit alcohol and antidepressants, my paranoid tendencies went away. And what few I did have, after I quit all that crap, were manageable.

Well, when I put drinking back in my life, with or without the drugs, the paranoid comes back with a vengeance.

Today, we had a luncheon of 60 or so people to explain and explore an upcoming business venture. And lo and behold… the only woman that I feel paranoid about is there.

She hugs my husband and says “Hey, Big Boy!” before she sees me. The look of astonishment on her face was not lost on me or her. She proceeds to hug me (which is what we do in the south and there are times, like this one, that I really hate that custom) and acts like she didn’t just blatantly disrespect me and herself and her husband… for all that matters.

Anyway, she came up to me after the luncheon and started talking like we are besties and asking questions about my son. I don’t like her. I don’t like talking to her. I don’t like that she texts and Facebooks my husband with beer emojis asking him to get drinks with her. When I asked him about it, he says she is a drinker and does that to everyone. Well, there was a whole room full of people that she knew there. She didn’t hug or come on to any of them from what I saw. Just sayin’.

My point here is that I want to know if this is still lingering paranoia from the alcohol binge I had over the weekend and no big deal or if it should be concerning to me.

I am not sure if this is helping me or not to put this out there and hope for a response. But I had to do it.

Ray wants a drink.

Damn it.


Sober Momma is Actually Sober. Today.

I started writing in this very public diary for one main reason, to know I’m not alone. Not in a “Haha! You’re an idiot just like me!” way, but in a “We have got to help and support one another because this is too f–king hard alone!” way.

So, I wanted to share this tiny a-ha moment with the people that read my rantings.

I woke up this morning and my very first thought was, “Oh my God! Where am I?!? What did I do or say last night?!? Am I in my own bed?!?”

I was in my own bed. I hadn’t done or said anything I regretted. I slept well. I am motivated to get all the sh-t done that I didn’t do over the weekend because I was drunk.

Today, I am doing my mom job. Happily. Sober.

Y’all can, too. We’ve got this.

Today is a new day.


When you’re trying to get sober, never get cocky

So, if you read my post from yesterday, you may have gotten a cocky vibe from it. I thought I had it. I thought I was prepared. When you’re trying to be sober, you can’t get cocky.

I basically set myself up to fail.

I was drunk by 5 o’ clock somewhere.

Went specifically looking for someone to make me “feel better” about my life. I found them.

And yada yada yada… I wound up in my driveway still drunk off my ass at midnight… You’re welcome to those of you that will understand the Seinfeld reference. There is so much that I could “yada” explain, but it’s probably not conducive to my reputation as a Southern lady. What reputation??? Grief. To quote Taylor Swift, “My reputation’s never been worse.”

So I will just say, my momma would not be happy or proud and my daddy (God peacefully rest his drunken soul) would think it was funny and praise me for “growing some balls” and “showing my husband what for.”

But how does that fix anything? How does my getting blackout drunk fix one thing in my life?

Well, one of those someone’s just rang my phone. Ugh. Note to self- you can’t hang out with sober people when you’re drunk and especially when they don’t know you’re drunk. They take everything you say or do to heart and then they think they “need/want/love/are in love with you. So whatever. I was just out letting Ray (me) have a good time. They were caught in the crossfire. Sorry about that. I don’t feel the same about them.

Yes. I know I’m a terrible person. I was looking for someone to save me. Didn’t happen.

Now, I sit here and contemplate how in the hell to get out of this fuckery I have done to myself.

Please don’t judge me, y’all.

Ray is not sober yet.

God help me.

The Weekend can kiss my sober ass

Ok, Weekend. You and all your bullshit that you hassle me with when I’m trying to be sober. I’m ready for you. Six flavors of soda water. Check. Couple of limes. Check. Netflix playlist. Check. Spotify playlist just in case I can’t Netflix. Check. I’m ready.

Last time, Weekend, you kicked my ass. This time, Weekend, I’m prepared to take you down and get through until Monday when you won’t have an ounce of hope to wreak my week and make me hate myself.

I got this.

Ray is sober. Again. Take that f–ker.


Not as sober as I would like to be

I’ve been away for a time, so I thought I would write a little to update what was going on.

I had made it 56 days and not had a drink. That seems like an insignificant amount of time when I think about how many days in a row I consistently drank. But it is what it is and I am proud of that.

Like I said in my last post, I was concerned about my vacation and doing it sober. I did it mostly sober, but since I’m not a cheater, I restarted the 56 days after I got intoxicated after TWO drinks. I magically became a lightweight after not drinking for seven weeks. Huh. Didn’t see that happening.

Anyway. I went a little while and didn’t drink. But this past weekend, I pretty much lost it.

I made plans to go back home for the first time since my father’s and sister’s funerals. It has been six years since my dad’s death and almost 3 since my sister’s. I never could force myself to go back after her funeral. It was too much for me emotionally and I proved that by getting blackout drunk before I went up there.

My husband was supposed to go with me, but we got in a huge fight over nothing and I went alone. And let me tell you, alone is not a good place to be for me. It allows me to do whatever the f–k I want.

Go to a bar and get drunk alone? Yep. Go to a bar and get drunk with my old drinking buddies? Yep. Stay drunk all weekend and barely sober up enough to make it home? Of course. Drink the entire bottle of champagne that you had waiting because this was supposed to be a special trip. Well duh! It’s what I do. Or used to do.

So I did that. One more time. One more last time. It’s too hard to keep doing this. My marriage has been on the rocks for a while. When I was sober, it was back to good. Now it’s not. He’s pissed and now I get the silent treatment. I didn’t even give him the cards I had picked out for Father’s Day. Beautiful, heartfelt cards. Useless to me now.

What did I learn? Because that’s what this is all about right? Learning from mistakes? Going back and rereading this and seeing how far I came and what I am capable of? That’s the way I see it. So what I learned is that I hate being drunk. I hate ruining perfectly good things. So tomorrow, I will start again.

Ray will be sober again.