I had a great day with the kids today. They drove me nuts like any other day, but we also had lots of hugs, kisses, chats, and whispered cuteness. I had felt anxiety in the morning. I wasn’t around the kids at the time. They were at home with our Saturday sitter, which we still have after my multiple hospitalizations, the last one finishing less that two weeks ago. I can’t quite cope with the kids full time yet. I had gone to Starbucks to write. My anxiety spiked out of nowhere and I don’t know why. A short while into writing, it slowed and then stopped. I was fine for the rest of the morning and afternoon.
The kids and I went out to Target after I got home. They each had saved some money, and wanted to buy one small toy each. We left daddy at home to have a shower, after coming home from work. There were the usual squabbles in Target, but I managed fine. When we got home daddy was watching TV – Lost in Space (the new one)- no problem there. It was a little grown-up for the kids: the odd “shit” here and there. They hear much worse from the mother (who me?) all the time. There were a few scary moments, but no blood, guts, sex, or guns. The kids watched a few episodes with daddy. I was also in the room reading. Again no big deal. We ordered Indian, and broke for dinner. I refuse to eat in front of the TV, except for Friday pizza night. I don’t even watch TV – ever. The last thing I watched was a few episodes of Stranger Things back in early January. Three months ago. That night I ended up in the E.D. too. Even in the hospital on the medical floor where I stared at the TV at the foot of my bed. It was off the entire time. I’d rather watch paint dry.
After dinner, everyone poured back into the living room. On went some shitty, incensing kids’ cartoon. Please take my eyeballs out with a red-hot poker. Stick sharp spikes in my ears. Any torture, to end this torture. My anxiety was rising sharply, so I left the room. I went to my library (tiny room that fits one armchair and a huge bookshelf). I finished the book I was reading, and came back out. It was Saturday night, and I wanted to hang with the fam. We were apparently still watching shit TV. Instead of getting into it with four family members, I opted to leave.
I called around a few Starbucks, and tried to find the one that wasn’t too far away, but closed the latest. Sadly our local one fit the bill. I don’t hate our local one, but it’s not my favorite Starbucks, and it meant I would only get a 2 minute drive. I wanted to drive and blare music, and come down from my bullshit anxiety. Luckily I had to drive around the block a few times to get parking. It was probably a good thing though, as it had been raining all day, and the roads were pretty slick.
So here I sit in Starbucks, huge anxiety chip on my shoulder. Under circumstances like this I would have picked up the bottle in the past. I no longer want to do that. No. That simplifies it too much. I do want to drink, but I know it is the wrong option, and I am trying the hardest I have ever tried at anything, not to drink. That is a pretty hard thing to override. The knowledge that drink will make everything better (temporarily), while screwing things up long term. I hate alcoholism. So the anxiety stays. No quick cure tonight. Meanwhile, I think of booze, my sleeping pills, and oblivion…