*Apparently a Jewish Proverb. I read that on Twitter today so it must be true, eh?
If I don't look out for myself, then who the hell else is going to?
The one who almost 8 years ago promised to "love honor and cherish, in sickness and in health blah-blah" is certainly not showing any signs of "being for me", looking out for me nor for supporting me in this, one of the hardest battles I have ever had to face.
And you've read the condensed version of my life's battles. There's been some corkers, hey?
Drinking alcohol in front of me with friends and joking about "now this is really rubbing it in": not supportive. Screaming at me (in front of the kids) that I have no idea how much I am costing him personally: not supportive. Making every day so stressful by the yelling - always the yelling - at the kids, that if I hear his voice once more I am going to fucking explode. Not asking, not ever asking how I am feeling without the alcohol: Not.Fucking.Supportive.
So.
I am for me.
I cannot stand to be in my living room because the associations with alcohol are so strong. I cannot be in the kitchen at dinner time because my automatic response is to get a glass and go to the fridge. And then I remember..."Ohhh, DAMMIT!" I cannot cope with the constant noise and the demands and the yelling.
I want to be alone, so I can have the shakes and cry in private and not in front of my children. I want to be alone so I can hear my own thoughts. I want to be alone so I can feel something other than frustration with my children - because lets face it, boy (5) + girl (almost-3) = nightmare - and anger at my husband.
The only way I can see how to do this is to put my hand up and say "Help me! I can't do this alone anymore." To voluntarily go into hospital and do this with people who know what they are doing, who know how to get people through detox and who are not going to ignore my fairly obvious distress. I had my first panic attack since the birth of my daughter the other day, for no reason other than I was in my son's classroom and there were other adults there. The second was a day later in the car with MB, simply because I was with him.
I need rest. I need sleep. I need quiet so I can hear myself. If I cant hear my own thoughts, or if I cant even process information because of what my body is dealing with, all that happens is anxiety and panic.
If I cant hear myself, how can I help myself?
If I cant help myself, how on earth am I going to be able to help these two precious, beautiful children?
I am for me.
I am also for them.