Yesterday was a spectacular fail on my part and the culmination of stress, anxiety, non communication – reached boiling point because I was stupid enough to add alcohol to the mix.

I’m not really a drinker. I enjoy the odd glass of wine but because I get migraines, and I’m over my party days, I’m happy with a coffee or a nice tea (that will be the British in me). I’m also addicted to coke zero!

So, Sunday came along and I slept a fair bit during the day. Some nightmares crept through the night prior. And if I’m honest, I’m avoiding the arguments and tension.

The evening came along and as I’d sorted through the office cupboard I found some lovely canvas pictures of the kids. I hung them around the house. One overlapped a light switch in the girls room. Marginal but I felt it more an aesthetic issue which could be sorted another time. 

Unfortunately Egg hit the switch and the picture fell right onto her mouth. Splitting her gum and knocking a baby tooth. There was a fair bit of blood and she was in agony. My husband was naturally furious (about the picture) and overly concerned and I knew it was totally my fault for the picture. 

Used to dealing with all manner of child incidents, I coaxed her to take some pamol for the pain and keep a wrapped ice pack over her lip to minimise swelling. 

But I felt like a total shit. And it was another epic failure of mine for my husband to chalk up.

Really I should have settled her and then gone to bed. Instead I angrily took all the pictures down and plonked them in the wheelie bin. Then grabbed a bottle of wine and headed out to the spa pool.

It didn’t take long to feel the effects of the drink with the heat of the spa, the tiredness, etc. and when the bottle was empty I turned to gin and tonic.

In a rational moment I realised it was wrong to argue with my husband over this as I was leaving soon and invited him into the spa. He joined me, and amidst talking I made a move on him. We haven’t had sex for so long. I guess I wanted to see if there was any chemistry left. I wanted to be touched and I wanted to feel wanted. More than a frumpy housewife, a woman. 

He rejected me immediately.

I wasn’t surprised by this. There is so little affection already and considering how things have been between us, it was unlikely I would ever arouse him again.

So I drank more and the verbal defenses came up. Then I talked about my flashbacks and nightmares and I knew his responses to me were obligatory. They were without tenderness or concern and I felt stupid for trying to confide in him. He doesn’t care anymore.

I had a shower and in a moment of weakness and shame and self disgust as well as the alcohol making my horrible images clearer and it harder to cope, I resorted to the only release I knew. I broke my husband’s shaver and used a blade across my arm. Not to render myself a bleeding mess. But a punishment, a way to process the shame. Just small lines to give release. The relief was short lived. I felt stupid, like I’d backtracked so far. I felt ashamed and I felt afraid that to drink so much would reduce me to this.

In bed I lay with regret and my heart beat fast and almost painfully against my ribs. My husband slept beside me. I felt the increasing loneliness and isolation suffocating me. 

I decided to walk the dog.

In smashing up the razor I’d cut my fingers and hadn’t realised. There was drips of blood over my hands and everything I touched.

The dog and I walked in the silence of the early hours. With only my iPhone for light. The madness of it all.

Fortunately friends of ours live locally so I called them and crashed at their house. My dog curled up in bed next to me.

This morning my head was painful, my fingers have slits like paper cuts. I feel appalled and disgusted with myself. 

My friend dropped me home early this morning and my husband and I passed each other. Not much was said. 

I had to drive the kids to school. Feeling unwashed and sick.

Today I have mostly slept. 

I’ve reached my total limit. 

I don’t belong here. I will get ill being in this environment. It’s not my family – it’s me. 

I’m failing all of them and myself.


2 thoughts on “Fail

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