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xxmadsenxxI have been up for the past 20 hours or so. I can't sleep. I tried, but it's not going to happen. I realized that I hadn't written in this thing forever, and I thought it might help, so we'll see. Haha you guys probably don't even remember me.
Anyway...
I have fucked up. Royally.
So it's been what, four months since I've written? That's about right, because the last one I wrote was right after we found out she was pregnant again.
Well, she had a miscarriage about a month after I wrote that. I was out of state with my band again, so she called me crying to tell me. Plus she was mad at me for not being there, and for the fact that I couldn't possibly be home until the next day, so I felt really bad. I couldn't change the fact that I was far away and couldn't instantly be there, but she acted like that was my fault. Then she got mad at me for not calling her the day before, which I admit, I should have...but that day really wasn't a good day for me. It was the anniversary of my twin brother's death, and I didn't really want to deal with anything. Plus I was busy and exhausted at the end of the day, so I just went to bed. I admitted to her that I should have called her, but she bitched at me about it for a while anyway. So we ended up getting into a fight about EVERYTHING and she hung up on me. I called her back to apologize, but she just ignored it. She does that sometimes when she's mad and it pisses me the fuck off.
Obviously, I wasn't feeling all that great after getting into a huge fight with my wife right after finding out that we lost the baby.
I have never been able to deal with emotions. I have always drowned them out and tried to escape reality. I always just dealt with pain by numbing it through self-medication.
I couldn't deal with the miscarriage, the fight, and the anniversary of Jeremy's death all at once. I kept reliving it (his death) in my head, over and over and over again. When your twin (or any sibling, I'd imagine) dies right in front of you, it haunts you forever. I had to get away from everything. I didn't want to think about any of it. So, I blocked it out with alcohol and pills. Opiates help me relax and forget about everything. They dull the pain.
I got home the next morning, and things were fine for a while. Obviously we were both still upset. Losing a baby is hard. But we were okay.
Then the fighting started again. It has been going on for the past six months, off and on. Anyway, we started fighting, over everything. This whole time (even while things were good) I continued using pills, but of course Jenny didn't know.
Jenny and I were still fighting a lot, and I wanted to get out of the house as much as possible. I started hanging out with my band and practicing more, and going out to bars afterwards. They know I'm not supposed to drink, but they knew something was up and didn't give me too much shit about it.
I came home drunk in the middle of the night a few times, and Jenny gave me hell for that. We kept fighting, I kept drinking. Eventually we agreed that we needed to spend a little bit of time away from each other. I went to my brother's house, she stayed at our house.
My drugged out younger cousin was staying with my brother. The one that went to rehab and then stayed with me and Jenny for a while. Anyway, I started hanging out with him and some of the people that we used to hang out with, and started doing the things that we used to do together. Every night turned into a drunken coke binge. Fifteen fucking months of sobriety, a wife and kids at home, and here I was doing lines and drinking everyday.
I was away from my family, drinking and doing drugs. Exactly what I swore never to do. I don't want to turn into my father. Granted, I would never be abusive like he was, but I'm doing the same thing. My drug and alcohol abuse is abusing my family enough.
I moved back home after about three weeks. Things were rocky. I'd come home spracked out and drunk, and Jenny would be furious. We kept fighting, I kept using. One day we were in a huge fight (luckily Maddie was with her dad that weekend), and Jenny got so mad/crazy that she started throwing shit at me, haha. She just barely missed my head when she threw one of her pointy ass stilettos at me. Haha. It hit the wall pretty hard.
We were not getting along at all. Even when we weren't fighting, we weren't getting along. We showed absolutely no affection toward one another, and I started sleeping in a different room.
After a little while we decided to separate. Not divorce...just separate. So we have been separated since mid-December. So what, six weeks or so now? We still spent Christmas together though. It was Evan's first, so it was kind of important. We still love each other...we just need to spend some time apart.
I really hope this won't be a permanent separation. I love her so much, and I fucked up so bad. I mean, obviously it takes two to fight, and the fighting was a huge part of it. But it's not like my using has been helping much either...that's pretty much what did it in. That's what caused half of the fights in the last little while.
I don't blame her for not putting up with it. She shouldn't have to. She helped me through it last time. She's already been through it. She saved my life, and now I'm destroying it.
I need to get my act together. I'm trying, but it's hard. For the most part I'm not using. I mean...I am. I am still using. But not all the time. That's not really something that can be justified, I guess. I always try to justify it, but I know I shouldn't. I can't. It's wrong and it's bad any way that I look at it. I just tell myself otherwise. I need to stop making excuses. Whether I'm using multiple times a day or once every day or two, it's still using. Not as much as I used to, but that's beside the point. I'm still doing it, and I'm still doing it on a regular basis.
I need to stop. I have cut back a lot. Most of it is just alcohol and pills right now. I mean...I'm still doing yay but not all the time. Well...I guess that's not true either. It's 5 or 6 days a week, but to me that's not all the time, compared to what I did (off and on) for close to a decade of my life, haha. I know I need to stop. I need to, and I want to...but at the same time I feel powerless, and at the same time I don't want to. It's comfortable to me, in some sick way. Drugs and alcohol have gotten me through life. They're my safety net, as stupid as that sounds. They have destroyed my life. They killed my brother right in front of me. But at the same time it's what has gotten me through all of the hard times, even though it has almost ruined my life multiple times. It has almost killed me in the past, back when it was really bad...and sometimes I wanted it to. But it's also what helped me. Even though I guess that's not really true and it did the opposite, but it's my coping mechanism.
It kills me when Maddie (my step-daughter) calls me. Jenny just told her that I was sick and needed to go away for a little while to get better. When I pick up the phone and hear that little voice saying "Hi Daddy. I miss you," and asking if I'm feeling better yet it kills me. (I'm Daddy, her dad is Dad.) I hate doing this to my family. I still see the kids a few times a week, and I make sure that I'm not fucked up when I do so...but it kills me. I hate myself for doing this to them, even though they're too young to understand. I mean, Evan has no idea...but Maddie knows something is up. She doesn't understand what's going on of course, but she knows that something is wrong, and I'm not at home.
The last time I saw her, which was the other day, it almost broke my heart. She said "Daddy, are you and Mommy going to get a divorce? I don't want to lose my daddy again." Jenny and her ex-husband had kind of a nasty divorce, and even though Maddie doesn't remember a lot of it, she knows that her dad went away and wasn't with her mom anymore, and I think she's starting to see this as the same thing.
I need to do something. I don't know if I can do it myself, or if I need to go to rehab again. I'm not ready to go to rehab. To be honest, I'm not ready to stop. But I guess you're never really ready. It's scary everytime, and it's never easy.
Fuck.
Anyway...
Sorry that was so long. But there's a nice pretty picture of my life since the last time I updated.
Anyway...
I have fucked up. Royally.
So it's been what, four months since I've written? That's about right, because the last one I wrote was right after we found out she was pregnant again.
Well, she had a miscarriage about a month after I wrote that. I was out of state with my band again, so she called me crying to tell me. Plus she was mad at me for not being there, and for the fact that I couldn't possibly be home until the next day, so I felt really bad. I couldn't change the fact that I was far away and couldn't instantly be there, but she acted like that was my fault. Then she got mad at me for not calling her the day before, which I admit, I should have...but that day really wasn't a good day for me. It was the anniversary of my twin brother's death, and I didn't really want to deal with anything. Plus I was busy and exhausted at the end of the day, so I just went to bed. I admitted to her that I should have called her, but she bitched at me about it for a while anyway. So we ended up getting into a fight about EVERYTHING and she hung up on me. I called her back to apologize, but she just ignored it. She does that sometimes when she's mad and it pisses me the fuck off.
Obviously, I wasn't feeling all that great after getting into a huge fight with my wife right after finding out that we lost the baby.
I have never been able to deal with emotions. I have always drowned them out and tried to escape reality. I always just dealt with pain by numbing it through self-medication.
I couldn't deal with the miscarriage, the fight, and the anniversary of Jeremy's death all at once. I kept reliving it (his death) in my head, over and over and over again. When your twin (or any sibling, I'd imagine) dies right in front of you, it haunts you forever. I had to get away from everything. I didn't want to think about any of it. So, I blocked it out with alcohol and pills. Opiates help me relax and forget about everything. They dull the pain.
I got home the next morning, and things were fine for a while. Obviously we were both still upset. Losing a baby is hard. But we were okay.
Then the fighting started again. It has been going on for the past six months, off and on. Anyway, we started fighting, over everything. This whole time (even while things were good) I continued using pills, but of course Jenny didn't know.
Jenny and I were still fighting a lot, and I wanted to get out of the house as much as possible. I started hanging out with my band and practicing more, and going out to bars afterwards. They know I'm not supposed to drink, but they knew something was up and didn't give me too much shit about it.
I came home drunk in the middle of the night a few times, and Jenny gave me hell for that. We kept fighting, I kept drinking. Eventually we agreed that we needed to spend a little bit of time away from each other. I went to my brother's house, she stayed at our house.
My drugged out younger cousin was staying with my brother. The one that went to rehab and then stayed with me and Jenny for a while. Anyway, I started hanging out with him and some of the people that we used to hang out with, and started doing the things that we used to do together. Every night turned into a drunken coke binge. Fifteen fucking months of sobriety, a wife and kids at home, and here I was doing lines and drinking everyday.
I was away from my family, drinking and doing drugs. Exactly what I swore never to do. I don't want to turn into my father. Granted, I would never be abusive like he was, but I'm doing the same thing. My drug and alcohol abuse is abusing my family enough.
I moved back home after about three weeks. Things were rocky. I'd come home spracked out and drunk, and Jenny would be furious. We kept fighting, I kept using. One day we were in a huge fight (luckily Maddie was with her dad that weekend), and Jenny got so mad/crazy that she started throwing shit at me, haha. She just barely missed my head when she threw one of her pointy ass stilettos at me. Haha. It hit the wall pretty hard.
We were not getting along at all. Even when we weren't fighting, we weren't getting along. We showed absolutely no affection toward one another, and I started sleeping in a different room.
After a little while we decided to separate. Not divorce...just separate. So we have been separated since mid-December. So what, six weeks or so now? We still spent Christmas together though. It was Evan's first, so it was kind of important. We still love each other...we just need to spend some time apart.
I really hope this won't be a permanent separation. I love her so much, and I fucked up so bad. I mean, obviously it takes two to fight, and the fighting was a huge part of it. But it's not like my using has been helping much either...that's pretty much what did it in. That's what caused half of the fights in the last little while.
I don't blame her for not putting up with it. She shouldn't have to. She helped me through it last time. She's already been through it. She saved my life, and now I'm destroying it.
I need to get my act together. I'm trying, but it's hard. For the most part I'm not using. I mean...I am. I am still using. But not all the time. That's not really something that can be justified, I guess. I always try to justify it, but I know I shouldn't. I can't. It's wrong and it's bad any way that I look at it. I just tell myself otherwise. I need to stop making excuses. Whether I'm using multiple times a day or once every day or two, it's still using. Not as much as I used to, but that's beside the point. I'm still doing it, and I'm still doing it on a regular basis.
I need to stop. I have cut back a lot. Most of it is just alcohol and pills right now. I mean...I'm still doing yay but not all the time. Well...I guess that's not true either. It's 5 or 6 days a week, but to me that's not all the time, compared to what I did (off and on) for close to a decade of my life, haha. I know I need to stop. I need to, and I want to...but at the same time I feel powerless, and at the same time I don't want to. It's comfortable to me, in some sick way. Drugs and alcohol have gotten me through life. They're my safety net, as stupid as that sounds. They have destroyed my life. They killed my brother right in front of me. But at the same time it's what has gotten me through all of the hard times, even though it has almost ruined my life multiple times. It has almost killed me in the past, back when it was really bad...and sometimes I wanted it to. But it's also what helped me. Even though I guess that's not really true and it did the opposite, but it's my coping mechanism.
It kills me when Maddie (my step-daughter) calls me. Jenny just told her that I was sick and needed to go away for a little while to get better. When I pick up the phone and hear that little voice saying "Hi Daddy. I miss you," and asking if I'm feeling better yet it kills me. (I'm Daddy, her dad is Dad.) I hate doing this to my family. I still see the kids a few times a week, and I make sure that I'm not fucked up when I do so...but it kills me. I hate myself for doing this to them, even though they're too young to understand. I mean, Evan has no idea...but Maddie knows something is up. She doesn't understand what's going on of course, but she knows that something is wrong, and I'm not at home.
The last time I saw her, which was the other day, it almost broke my heart. She said "Daddy, are you and Mommy going to get a divorce? I don't want to lose my daddy again." Jenny and her ex-husband had kind of a nasty divorce, and even though Maddie doesn't remember a lot of it, she knows that her dad went away and wasn't with her mom anymore, and I think she's starting to see this as the same thing.
I need to do something. I don't know if I can do it myself, or if I need to go to rehab again. I'm not ready to go to rehab. To be honest, I'm not ready to stop. But I guess you're never really ready. It's scary everytime, and it's never easy.
Fuck.
Anyway...
Sorry that was so long. But there's a nice pretty picture of my life since the last time I updated.
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no subject
Date: 2007-01-24 11:09 pm (UTC)just wanted to let you know that i'm still reading your journal.
i'm sorry things are so messed up with you right now.
for what my two cents are worth, i think rehab sounds like a good idea. if you're still making excuses to yourself knowing that what you are doing is wrong and bad, what is going to make you stop on your own?
maybe the sooner you get better and find other ways to cope with emotions, the sooner you'll be able to fix your relationship with your wife...
i've never been in your position, and i don't want to seem preachy or anything, so you can take that "advice" and ignore it if you wish, haha.
but i do hope that you get better and get back with your family.
stay safe.
*big hug*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-24 11:43 pm (UTC)I think you're absolutely right. About everything, haha. I know that's what I need to do. I just need to get to the point of doing it.
But yeah, you're right. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-25 08:38 am (UTC)I hate it too. Word.
I need to do something. I don't know if I can do it myself, or if I need to go to rehab again. I'm not ready to go to rehab. To be honest, I'm not ready to stop. But I guess you're never really ready. It's scary everytime, and it's never easy.
I found it easier to just develope a mind-over-matter idea first. You are using the drug, the drug isn't using you kind of thing. Then you slowly fing the effects less appealing. (I'm talking about cocaine here. I've never been a pill-head, but I was doing coke everyday for about a year until I moved from my influences and got a sense of self control. Now I can do cocaine if the mood hits, and I'm fine after a few lines of that nasty shit, and realize I'd rather be sober. Ha!) Try just thinking about the negative things when you do it first, then wean off of it, and eventually you'll ahte it. I pretty much do, but there's always that urge to go crazy. And when that happens, cocaine seems to be the cure. The next day I get over it though. So I guess it'll just take time.
I'm really sorry about everything. I read your last post, too. The drunk/high post about needing something more and sleeping better. I'm young (or so they say), twenty on 2/24, but I know what it's like. I've been there, and I'd like to think I'm over constant partying and "self-pitty". Instead of embracing the loss, the pain, the annoyances... think of your baby. Of Maddie. Think of your wife. Friends, family. They need you. You need you.
I know you can't just wake up all better, but try waking up with a sunny disposition instead. Even if life really sucks, a sunny disposition goes a long fucking way. It is a hard lesson to learn though, but I'm here if you wanna do some drunken ramblings. OR, what's better... write em a letter. That way you can vent and vent and you'll feel better fer-sure.
sharylove @ gmail.com