See Jane Sober

I was eating spaghetti with my Mom today, discussing my stepson with her. Well, myself in relation to him. He's almost 15. 15 is when I first became REALLY, HEAVILY involved with another human being. It scares me to think that he is that grown up, because sometimes I still feel like I'm 15.

He's had unhealthy relationships with most females, which leads me to believe that he'll be an asshole to the girls. I mentioned this, and stated that he would only attract girls like me. "Or like what I used to be," I corrected.

"Why don't you have any self-esteem?" my mom queried, the question hanging between us like spiderwebs in the inescapable humidity.

Try as I might, I just couldn't come up with a good answer for her. Or for me, more importantly. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE. It's just there. Like a piece of bread stuck in your throat.

My instinct is to go back to my college years, when I was dating Michael. I can chalk our cumulative stupidity up to youth, but I have a harder time forgiving his roommate. He of the incessant assholery. Long term mindfucking. I wonder about that.

But I also wonder if it had to do with isolated incidents. Jim Brew in 8th grade. Embarrassing me time and time again in front of my peers to an extreme that for sure would get him expelled (or at the very least suspended) today.

Before Dick, I was a doormate for wounded men who knew of no other way to make themselves feel better than to rip me apart. I let them in my life, in my finances, in my bed, in my head. That I recognize it scares me, because I did absolutely nothing to stop it. Or maybe it is only know that we are married that I CAN SEE it.

But I don't know that there is any one thing that has robbed me of something that my family (immediate and extended) and Dick have struggled to help me find. When I was younger, I used to feel like it was some kind of inextinguishable fire, simultaneously numbed and fueled by alcohol. And don't get me wrong - there are days when I still feel like it will EAT ME UP - but I try and keep her at bay, not the bar.

I don't know why I am so critical. I'd like to say that I came by it honestly, as my mom terms it, but that would be unfair - my family has done nothing BUT support me. At this point, the turmoil is internal, and has turned me into a mean drunk, as my mom keeps repeating (I cannot even tell you how much I hate to hear that.), maybe one of these days it will be off her chest.

I guess I'm saying that I just don't know what it is; only that I am trying to find it.

Jane Says: You don't succeed because you hesitate.

What's that saying? Relatives and fish start to smell after three days?

Staying at my mom's has been great, but I feel like she's starting to resent me. With her mother in the house, the tension is constant, regardless of the situation. Each one walking on eggshells, because they don't know when the other one will go off.

I don't know if she wants me to go out and work with her at the old house. I wanted to go to the gym. I didn't get to go yesterday, because I was "lounging" as she put it. I don't really think having a very precocious, very active 5 year old following you around and trying to keep my grandmother fed and happy is "lounging", but so be it.

I don't really feel like it is my place to say anything because she has been taking care of my grandmother nearly single-handedly since her stroke a year and a half ago, but sometimes I think she loses the ability to be objective about things.

Yesterday, my cousin came over to retrieve a trunk; she got the wrong one. My mom was upset, she couldn't believe that her younger sister had come over and helped herself. She thought they would correct the situation last night. When they didn't, she was short with and hung up on my Aunt.

In situations like this. I have no idea what to do. My instinct is to try and placate, but instead I say nothing, because I hope it will just drift over. After her accident, she was focused on her "stuff" to the point where I just didn't want to touch it because I was afraid I would set her off.

I got the idea that she wanted me to protect her things. "You should've told them I wasn't here. That I would be back later," she commented. My aunt knew my mother wasn't there. I think it was more of an efficiency thing. There was no malicious intent behind it. But I don't know. I try not to read too much into these things.

I believe interactions like this are the primary reason that I don't like to live up here. Situations like this stress me out so much that I just make myself sick. I try and think about what is best for others and how to present it and just end up with a stomach in knots.

I also find myself having higher expectations for my family. The other day, my cousin used the word "colored", which really bothered me, considering how intelligent he is. Also, remarks are constantly made about black people using the Seneca word for "black". It's not derogatory, but the fact that there is no love lost between the black people and the red people gives it an unkind edge.

I personally don't think American Indians have any right to be racist; I also do not understand minority tendency to alienate other ethnic backgrounds. I think it's ridiculous. Hate only hurts (however indirectly) the person putting the energy into it * HYPOCRITE ALERT. HYPOCRITE ALERT!!!*

Speaking of hate, I said that I wouldn't touch a drink until I stopped feeling so angry. Obviously I have issues, but today, as I was driving home, I heard a song that reminded me of someone I used to know. I felt really angry when I heard that he had killed himself - he was so horrible to me, and really pushed me over the edge several times, and then he just copped out? - but today, I just felt...calm. Sad that he didn't have the same people that I did helping me get past whatever it was that made me want to end my life.

And, on the not drinking. I am less anxious around people who don't drink. I am free to sit there and enjoy the company without thinking, "When can I leave and drink? Will they think less of me if I drink? When can I get a drink? Why don't they drink? I NEED A DRINK! Why are they talking about this? WHERE THE HELL IS MY DRINK?" Don't get me wrong, I am still SOCIALLY INEPT and say the wrong things, but the focus has shifted.

I hope that when my gramma gets her own place, the resentment (which I may be imagining) will dissipate. I know my mom doesn't want to impose on me, but really all she has to do is ask. I know that I should be able to anticipate some things, but I don't want to make her mad, so I wait until she tells me what she wants. And sometimes I am afraid that I forget what she asked me. Last summer or the summer before, she thought I was ignoring her on purpose when really, I'm just absentminded.

Jane Says: And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd, cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud.

If ANYBODY out there has a habit that they need to get rid of?
Come hang out here, seriously.
My family will run your ass off.
Oh, and the going's on are good, too.
You'll forget that there's anything wrong with you.

I just wonder how much longer I'll feel "sane" here!
No time to drink.
Although some of the things here make me want to drink. ALOT.
IN COPIOUS AMOUNTS.
FROM COPIOUS COPAS.

Time for bed.
My brain has obviously dissolved.

Closing thoughts: Viggo Mortensen? Please keep your face out of women's crotches. I mean, I would imagine with your role in Lord of the Rings that you get quite a fair piece, but. I don't really want to see it. I mean, I was just watching it on a handheld DVD player, but seeing you chow down on the big SCREEN? SHEW EEE!

Jane Says: Detachable Penis.

Today was a busy day. I find myself thinking about alcohol less and less as I am around people who don't have ANYTHING to do with it. They don't want to go out and get a drink or have a glass. Sure, they smoke weed like there's no tomorrow, but that's not my bag (dime or otherwise) and therefore not a temptation.

I wonder if I'm feeling like this is too easy because I'm not exposed to it that often. I feel like I am. I ALWAYS feel like I'm taking the easy way out if I don't drag myself through the dirt.

I guess I could be more social, but I don't really have any peers around here. Sure, there's my cousins who don't care if I'm black, white, or asian (thanks Will Smith!) but mostly I'm left feeling squeakily pale, regardless of what I really am on the inside. Hence the hermit crabishness.

Not drinking though has given me MUCH more time for the gym - which is good, considering that it is nearly 35 minutes away. Bastards. Whereas I'd usually be into a glass of wine right about now, instead, I'm getting ready to leave for the gym.

To see the little girly men.

At least I'm leaving the house.

Jane Says: I want to PUMP. YOU UP!

Which I just accidentally spelled "Weed Days" - Hello, Freud?

As my mom and I were driving back from a dinner last night, she asked me if I was going to go to counseling. "I don't know," I exhaled. "Where would I start? I don't have any immediate issues, and I don't think I would benefit from something short term."

Am I making excuses? I don't think so. I went to counseling for about 2 months before I jumped ship the first time. I was nowhere near finished - I ended up on Paxil. Took myself off it, and tried to kill myself with under the sink concoctions and what I had left of the Happy Pills. Obviously, it didn't work.

I could tell from the tone of her voice that she wasn't quite sure what to make of my decision, but she didn't verbalize any of those thoughts.

"I'm just angry,"I admitted. "Either something is working out for him, or something is working out for me..."

"...but it never works out for the both of you," she finished.

"What if it doesn't start working out for you until you stop being angry?" she questioned.

"I don't really think that has anything to do with it, " I answered. I could feel the hot start, and knew I would have to cut it off, if I didn't want to burst into tears. "I didn't get overlooked by ABC company because I was angry. That other job had nothing to do with anger, either. Ditto on my health insurance not covering baby surgery. It's all circumstantial."

"You're right," she agreed.

Maybe she was just humoring me, I don't know.

*********************************************************************

I find myself a lot more sensitive, sober. Dick didn't call me when he got up this morning. When I wanted to know what he was doing, he said he was watching soccer. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Well, what if I was asleep?" "But you weren't." Something so miniscule, yet I feel as if I have been snubbed, forgotten.

It's an unfair balance, considering that last night, I jokingly told him I was trading him in on a younger model. Hello, my name is Jane and I am a HUGE HYPOCRITE.

But maybe I feel this way because my mom gave me something to stave off the sneezing and itching and watering. When I was little and took medicine, my family all ran the other way, because I'd get the green meanies. Today, I just feel stupid. Literally. HAZY FOGGY.

Jane Says: Everyone knows I'm in over my head.

It's kind of crazy, the ups and downs I feel here. When we went out to dinner on Saturday to celebrate Father's Day, I WAS DYING for some wine. Or rather, I was put out that I couldn't have wine. I wanted to have some wine. But I know that if I start flirting with that safety net that can only hold me until I drink myself into something stupid, I'll be right where I was before. Namely, wreaking havoc and having others take my name.

When there is no alcohol present, I don't even think about it. Yes, the other day when it was a kajillion bazillionty degrees and the sweat was dripping off in gallons I thought that I would like a nice, cool, beer; I had a nice, cool, popsicle instead. If you eat it fast the resulting brain freeze is like a buzz. Tastes great less filling, yes?

Realizing that I feel guilty when I reveal too much of myself to people has steadied my desire to remain sober. I always feel like I have to be careful about how much I divulge. You know that Alanis Morrissette song? Where she croons "Are you still mad...that I had an emotional affair? Of course you are." Those words scare the shit out of me. I'm always trying to explain myself to people for whatever reason...I end up allowing them access to some parts of me that are best left unknown and unopened. Not an emotional affair, but access that maybe I only want Dick to have.

I am still grappling with the idea of going to counseling. I mean, where would I start? What IS bothering me, exactly? Immediately? 1.) Why do I seek validation from old relationships? They were primarily with boys when I was younger, and that can put me in a precarious position, because now they are men, and it wouldn't be proper or respectful to my husband to continue the sort of relationships that I had with them back then. College friendships are often more involved than adult relationships, I've found. I wouldn't walk home and smoke a bowl with a friend today while Dick was waiting for me at home. I didn't think twice about it in college.

Stroller brigade is rolling by. Seems like everyone's having babies these days.

Height of uncomfortable: Tonight I will be attending a senior dinner for kids from around here who finished high school. At least it's dark in there. Maybe my Socially Inept cape will blend in.

Jane Says: There's nothing I hate more than nothing. Nothing keeps me up at night. I toss and turn over nothing. Nothing could cause a great, big, FIGHT.

My immediate reaction when someone tells me that they are uncomfortable around me when I drink (with the exception of my mother) is, "Oh YEAH, well you make me uncomfortable when I DON'T DRINK!"

Largely a defense mechanism but true, nontheless. Which leads me to wonder: Am I so high-strung that I simply cannot relax enough around people without letting every.little.thing GET TO ME?

I think about my friendship (or lackthereof) with Jill. We were over at their house two Sundays ago, I was setting the table and I said, "Move it, kitty." I was rebuffed. "Don't talk to my cat like that!" Yet, as we were ordering dinner, she told Dick that he didn't need the "damn large pizza". Hunh. Did I say anything? No.

The same is true with Dick's kids. I NEVER SAY ANYTHING. Until I drink. And then, I tell the oldest one just what I think of him. Namely, that he is a dick. I won't be winning any mother of the year awards. The kid pushed me past my limits. MANY TIMES. He hurts my husband consistently which ignites a temper unlike one I have experienced before. If I were bigger than him, I would beat him. Fuck bigger. If I were even close to him in size, I'd go round after round with him in the ring. But, not my place. *housewife smile*

Feeling anger of this magnitude I guess is why I don't drink. Won't drink. Dad asked me if it was going to be forever. I said I didn't know, only that I just felt a lot of anger, and that when I stopped feeling that (because I am WAAAY past doing irreparable damage), maybe I would consider it.

Maybe.

I feel like Katie Kaboom.

One thing I am discovering, though, is that I have those, "Yeah? Go Fuck Yourself!" impulses even when I don't drink. Maybe more so that I don't drink.

Jane Says: Firecracker, Firecracker, boom boom BOOM.

I'm not really bored, just kind of, well, I don't know if there's a word for it, really. I'm not resigned, because I don't know what I'm doing yet. I'm just here, for now.

My dad has gone on some travels for awhile, meaning that I will not feel tempted to grab his wine out of his hand whilst we are at dinner and guzzle it like a big mean thirsty bear. Which I didn't. Not having Al coursing through my veins has done wonders for my restraint!

The bizarre thing is that I feel guilty for strange things now. With the absence of alcohol in my life, I feel guilty whenever I feel that I am exposing too much of myself to people. In discussing family matters, for example. When I was growing up picturing a family, it was never with two angry boys that are not from me who hate me. "Out of my sphere of influence" has become my mantra.

But suffice it to say that I feel the sting of Dick's absence. When he's not with them, he calls me 20 times a day. Wants to know what I'm doing, how I'm doing, what I ate. Maintains that life line that has kept the two of us together through some trying times. When he is with them, I get...not enough. He says that I need to share him. Which makes me feel scolded and snubbed. But I've shared him with golf and with his cars, so this should be cake. Right?

Sometimes when things like this happen, when nothing that we have set up for ourselves within the last five years (our total time of being together) goes as planned, I wonder to myself, "Am I in the right life?" I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I can only put snippets together, like not drinking, and helping out where I'm needed - but surely this can't be it.

Jane Says: We are Family. I've got all my sisters with me.

Today, I am at my mom's house. My old house and life from the past year are now EXTINCT. I don't know if this is much better. I am trying to be optimistic, but in a very small town where I have very small friends (1 is the loneliest number...blah, blah, blah) it's hard. "I have no one to talk to about not drinking!" I whispered into the phone to Dick, earlier. "You have me," he soothed. But I didn't think he understood. Al did not waltz into his life and FUCK IT UP.

I think I have to write with more frequency for this to really work. Do you know how much fucking pressure there is out there to drink? ANYTHING? SOMETHING? WITH ALCOHOL? The remarks are small - Jane! You are sexy when you drink! Jane? JANE! HERE! DRINK THIS! Jane, you are more fun when you drink! - and mostly uttered by people who are drinking, but I want to scream at them, "DON'T YOU THINK I WANT A FUCKING DRINK? THAT I WANT TO TASTE THAT FUCKING BOTTLE OF MERLOT/SAKE/BEER THAT YOU ARE WRAPPING YOUR LIPS AROUND RIGHT NOW? BECAUSE I DO! BUT I'M TRYING TO DO SOME GOOD HERE, SO KINDLY FUCK OFF!"

I got some pictures from an old friend I went to school with. He and some very good friends of mine, including Al, got together. And GOD, looking at those pictures. I wanted to be there. But I do this every time Dick and I separate. I am so afraid that THIS.IS.IT that I am desperate for someone to be in my life. I don't think that he understands that, either. Al does. He tells me "Call them. Reach out to them." And, while drunk phone calls were pretty much the norm in college, it's just kind of creepy now that we're in our 30's. A nuisance would accurately describe it, I believe.

I always feel like I need some kind of validation out of my old relationships. If they still love me, then they can see that happy sunny girl that I used to be. Somebody who knew me when said, "There's something in your eyes. So much sadness." And until I can learn to drown (yes, I know, process, grieve, what the hell ever I have to do to get it out.) that out, that attention needing me will never take a back seat to the woman that I am trying to build. She will scream out for another drink and drink and drink and drink until she finally believes that everyone loves her (even if they are really only embarrassed by her and feel sorry for her).

Which is maybe why I feel nostalgic for those days when I was 14 and15 and 16. When I drank that whole Vodka and Orange Juice because the boy that I adored whispered, "I love you" into my cup and then carried me home and fed me crackers and handi - vac'ed me clean. Harmless, really. That was the only time that he was really mine, all mine. Which is very, very sad.

Now that I am 30, I am ANGRY when drunk. That young girl has gone away. And now that I am not drunk, mostly just angry. Aimless.

What relationships Alcohol forged for me as a teenager, he quickly destroyed as I became an adult.

1.) My cousin, who called me a whore because I was drunk and kissed a boy.
2.) Jill, who feels uncomfortable around me when I drink.
3.) Sally, who I let down when I got drunk and kissed another boy.
4.) My cousin, who was mad at me for flirting with her husband (when I was drunk). Pattern?
5.) Dick's sons. The eldest who doesn't like to be around me when I'm drunk. Ditto for the younger.

The list goes on, but it's still too raw for me to continue it. And believe me, I could go all the way back to college. I always told myself that it didn't matter, but it does.

I quit because I was afraid Dick would top that list VERY SHORTLY if I didn't STOP.

But then stopping and coming back to the place that makes you the most crazy is probably the least smartest thing I've ever done. Especially when it makes me want to drink that much more. That my time here is indefinite makes it all the more STIFLING.

I feel really...FAKE. And irked by my self-centered ness. It's nauseating.

Jane says: Dame mas gasolina.

It's times like this that I wish I were just fucking LOADED and numb, because things just seem so much clearer in the light of day.

And I wonder at times if I drank like this to drown out the hurt. OR ANGER, I don't know.

Dick and I will be separated in five days for an undetermined amount of time. I think he's too much of a pussy to tell me that the relationship is over.

Today, at lunch, a girl we know asked him since he was going ahead would he scout out a job for me, and he just shrugged. When I questioned him, he nonchalantly threw out, 'you've already applied for so many jobs..." like, what can I do? If he doesn't think I'm getting a job there, WHY THE FUCK is he going? His own boss told him to tell them that he wasn't coming without me, and he was so busy that he forgot. I want to be mean and say convenient, but I think that would be painting him in an unfair light.

When I drank I sought attention and all this time I have been wondering WHAT GREAT VOID it is within me that makes me this way, but I don't think that I am fully to blame.

Right now, after telling me that we were all going out tonight, he is out by himself. Which is fine. It's the way he delivered it that pissed me off. "You don't have to come pick me up," before explaining to me that everyone was tired, and that it would just be a couple drinks. And "you didn't really want to go, did you?" Of course I WANTED TO GO! I've been cooped up in this house for THREE FUCKING WEEKS! And you're leaving! in five days!

He counters that I went out with my friends last night. Hunh. By "my friends", he is referring to the people that I have been working with all year and have not ONCE, EVER socialized with. Nor spoken on the phone with. Or e-mailed. I explained to him that the only reason that I stayed out was because he was at work. He says that I could've come in to the restaurant. There's CRACK in them thar hills, because I have no FUCKING CLUE why he thinks that, considering that he tells me not to come in when the owner's mother is there.

I am incredulous when he says that I don't come in because I don't want to. YES, BECAUSE THE MOTHER IS FUCKING CRAZY. She calls the police! She hits people! He tells me if she did anything to me, she would be gone. But 1.) Why would I willingly put myself in that kind of situation, and 2.) The owner has demonstrated time and time again that NOTHING CHANGES, why would her doing anything to me be different? He's already flaked out on me several times. I'm not stupid.

As a last resort, at the end of our conversation, I thought I should tell him I was pissed. He said he knew. So he knew, and didn't care to talk to me about it. Before when I was angry, he would FORCE me to talk to him so we could work it out. Now, he just doesn't give a shit.

I know that I have done things to hurt him. And I think I've pushed him past the limit. I KNOW he won't admit it. He doesn't have to. He's not interested in me sexually, everything between us is perfunctory, and half the time I am so angry and so hurt that I just want him to leave.

The other day? When I walked in from work, he was sitting in front of the computer staring at the TV and he didn't say a damn thing. I stood for five minutes, waiting for a "hi", or a "how was your day?" or some small fucking indication that he knew I was alive and instead just got the back of his head.

The next day when I came in, because he wanted my attention, he noticed that I didn't kiss him hello.

Today, when I was driving his car, I realized that I will never be better at ANYTHING than him, except maybe being an asshole. Now, up until now, I would've thought that a remark like that denoted low self-esteem, but I beg to differ on this. He drives better, and he is constantly trying to teach me. He bartends better. He keeps his temper better. He's a better mate. He's smarter. He's better at housework, cooking, cleaning. He has a more desirable career field.

I wonder at what point in a marriage the damage is irreparable. He calls, and tells me that he's coming home because he wants to play golf tomorrow. Apparently, spending time with me has nothing to do with it, and I wonder if maybe I am too needy because I would like to hear it, but right now, I feel like I am beyond lost, because I am crying openly into the phone and he can't even hear it.

All I want right now is to be drunk. Or asleep. Or just away from this.

I HATE FEELING THIS EMOTIONAL.

I just hate feeling right now, period.

Sometimes I just get tired of being so damn introspective. I should know better than to get involved in what Dick's ex-wife says. You know what? I just referred to her as his wife. I don't know what kind of slip that is, but it's not the first time I've done it.

At any rate. The school? Didn't catch the boys. I don't even know where she heard it. It was probably one of the freakin' voices in her head. AND she told the boys that Dick wanted them drug tested. She's always making him to the heavy. BLECH. Thinking about her makes me want to stick an IV of champagne in my arm. Don't worry, I won't.

Last night, I realized what a big fucking hypocrite I am. When I dreamed about a family, it was about children who love me, at least a little. Not two sullen teenagers who are not interested in having a relationship with me at all. It stresses me out, but I've got to practice what I preach. I told Dick not to worry about things he can't control, and this is one of those things that is out of my hands.

AND, I will not compete with their mother for their affections.

AND, I got a going away present of a botle of wine from a parent. It's wearing a dress. It's sitting in the kitchen. If I'm alone with it for much longer, I might do dirty things to it.

Oh. And did I mention that I have a knot the size of an egg on my shoulder? It FEELS GREAT! It's so tight that my right shoulder is now noticeably closer to my ear than my left.

But 1 good thing. I went to they gym today.

Jane Says: I hate Daniel Powter. You had a bad day. Pheh.

We got a phone call from Dick's ex-wife today. Seems that our youngest was caught smoking pot at school. He's 11. The older one got caught about 2 months ago, at home. Maybe the younger one thought he was being smart by keeping it out of the house.

I don't even know what I was doing at 11...Oh, wait, yes I do. I was drinking wine coolers on the beach in Hong Kong with my friends. I smoked pot once when I was in 8th grade (still 11 years old, yeah, I'm a freak of nature that way), but it was in a cigarette and I didn't know it. After that, I kept my lungs clean. I still drank, though. On the weekends. All my friends smoked like fools.

I have to wonder if his willingness to smoke has to do with some sort of example that Dick, his mother, and I have set for him. We drank openly in front of them, and let them taste it. Opposite of forbidden fruit, right? I know his mother openly smokes and drinks in front of him.

Last summer, when we took him to a Dave Matthews Band Concert, he got a contact high. Everyone and their mother (literally) had a joint or a pipe. It was impossible not to get stoned. At the time, he got really paranoid and wanted to leave early. However, as soon as he got on the phone with his peers, he said, "Dude, I got so stoned..."hmmmph. Poser is as poser does, I thought, thinking that he was adopting that attitude to be "cool".

It's a difficult situation, trying to figure out what to do with the two adolescents who once made bets on whether or not I could finish a bottle of champagne by myself (I could). Their mother wants to take them and get them drug tested, but then what? I asked my husband. Those are big actions for somebody who doesn't have the balls to back it up, I told him.

Every time there is a problem, and there have been numerous ones this year, she calls - but mostly for an opinion. She doesn't really "want our support", She just wants to Bartles and Jaymes it. Pretend she has it.

If it were up to me? I'd nip that shit in the bud (PUNNY!). Make them delete their Myspace accounts, cut their hair, make them buy clothes that ACTUALLY fit, cut them off from the computer COMPLETELY, and tell them to get summer jobs (dog walking, grass cutting, something to occupy their time so they are NOT puff puff passing while she works 1509 hours a week.). And, they would have to call every 1/2 hour while enduring random drug tests until they were clean 6 tests in a row.

Dick thinks that's harsh. I think it's necessary. From working with kids I do know that if you've let them run wild - and she has - you NEED to show them that you mean business in a serious way, or else they'll end up where my cousin did. In rehab. Or where Dick's cousin did. Dead.

Even though I am trying to show them that I mean business by quitting drinking - the eldest has said that he doesn't like being around me when I drink. I don't blame him. I called him a dick last summer when I was drunk. He is, but I shouldn't have said that. He likes to lie. About Dick. I'm like a momma dog. I snarl when you mess with my family. If you're not careful, I'll bite, too - I won't be around them to set that example. It's my choice, but the oldest is a BIG TRIGGER for me. In the past, I drank to DROWN his BULLSHIT out. Which is terrible. But every time I tried to talk to him, made an honest attempt, he just ran back to his mother and manipulated my words so that he could get what he wanted out of her. I think that I need to have a stronger emotional outlet not based on alcohol before I can be around him (cue Kimberly from Desperate Housewives, here).

With Dick and I moving out of the country, I don't know when that will be.

Jane Says: And these lies between us grow deeper.

I think I would start this post by saying that I don't particularly care for Monday if it weren't my LAST Monday with the students. They made me pay for it, too. They were WILD. Unfettered is a word that comes to mind.

I have one student, who is extremely boisterous. Goes from timid to terror in 0.2 seconds. I finally admonished, "PLEASE! SIT DOWN! I NEED SPACE!" He ignored me, walked up to me and squeezed my sides, scrunched up his face and said, "I JUST LOVE YOU!" "I LOVE YOU TOO, BUT YOU ARE DRIVING ME NUTS!" I acknowledged.

On days like this, where I am occupied, needed, responsible, ADULT, I have no problems. AL doesn't even cross my mind. Yes, we had some words when I went to get dinner tonight, and he was looking at me alluringly from the inside of an Ecco Domani. I wanted to lick the bottle and tell him, "shhh...somebody might see us," but I snubbed him. Snooty ME. Snooty, Grape LOVING, me. Oh, Al. How I loved thee.

It's the unknown that is about to slap me in the face that I am afraid of. Dick and I will be separated for what I am acknowledging will probably be AWHILE. I only have 60 days authorized there for THE WHOLE YEAR. I don't want to blow my load over the summer and then be stuck (literally in 8 feet of snow) at my Mom's for the winter. I am CONVINCED it would kill me. I am deathly allergic to cold weather. Yes, the longer I spend there the more counseling I can get, but...counseling? Tropical paradise? Counseling? Tropical Paradise? Even I can do that math.

What makes it worse is that Dick and I have already begun the dance of separation. We bicker, we stress. We don't take advantage of the moments. I am completely AWARE of what is going on, but that doesn't mean that I stop myself from being a porcupine. PRICKLY! PRICK! LY!Better that I am not drinking, otherwise it would be one BIG, FAT, UGLY mess. And I know, because it has been mess after mess every time we have had to pack up.

I am making a note to make a conscious effort not to be SUCH.A.BITCH.

Is there a pill for that?

Jane Says: There's an art to the game, the aesthetics of love, the athletics of loss.

Apologies about the cryptic post; there are some things that are going in my life that I don't feel like I'm at liberty to talk about because I am not the SOLE owner of them. They affect me, but I'm not the only one involved.

Last night, I went to visit Dick at his place of work - the restaurant. As I walked in, there were four of the waitresses sitting at the bar. Two I know. Two are new. Meeting new girls is always nerve-wracking for me. Particularly when I am not drinking. I am automatically preparing myself to be sized up. And I was. There's a new bartender, who works side by side with my husband all night. I know that girls can be territorial about men - she strikes me as this type.

As if on cue, she looked me up and down sizing me up before she introduced herself. Next to her sat a shot, all pink and potent, and I wanted to grab it from her and force it down my throat to absorb the attitude that I seem to think it possesses.

I left it alone, but it made it CRYSTAL clear to me that I am not prepared to be out in a social environment with people I don't know or feel intimidated by. Without alcohol, I feel awkward, unattractive, halting. With alcohol, I feel like I ROCK THE MOTHERFUCKING HOUSE, BABY! In reality, I know that nothing is farther from the truth, but it's just how I feel. That will be another step for me, I guess. Getting used to being out in social situations sans AL and his soothing powers.

When I quit drinking last, I realize that I secluded myself. I didn't go out. I didn't dance. I didn't meet new people. Namely, I abstained from not only alcohol, but all the situations that I used it for. I don't think that I'll be truly comfortable until I learn how to function in these VERY SAME situations without Al. It was kind of like taking a break from my life and deluding myself into thinking that I had it under control.

I also realized today that I LIKE being altered. I LIKE feeling the wine slide down my throat and the softening of my seemingly always tense shoulders and relaxation of my face. Which leads me to wonder if I'll develop a serious pot addiction. If I didn't hate the paranoia that inevitably accompanies it for me, I'd be smoking a joint right now. I've been so tense lately that my right shoulder and neck are in constant pain, no matter how I rub it or twist or turn. Sometimes I just want to be out. Life for me will continue, I told Dick today, when I learn how to achieve that level of relaxation without chemicals. Ommmmmm...Ommmmm...

It's kind of discouraging finding out HOW dependent I was on AL to get me through social situations. And, the thought of NEVER drinking red wine again STILL makes me want to cry. This too shall pass. It better. AND SOON, DAMNIT.

Jane Says: It's a long way down...

When I quit drinking, it was a conscious choice that I made to ensure that I would not be living on borrowed time any more.

It's kind of a hard thing to explain, which is probably why I have remained silent about it for so long. There are some things that you just know; this was one of them.

About 8 months ago, one of my friends killed himself by drinking and driving drunk.
When that happened, I knew that my reign of immortality was LOOOONG over. Had been long over. I was just pretending that it wasn't. Kidding myself, essentially. And we all know that I am the QUEEN of pretending that things won't/can't/didn't/shouldn't happen. Some small sliver of me knew that any time that I drank, I was placing myself in potential danger - it may not have been immediate physical danger, but I sensed that anything that I did would have consequences that were not reversible with two aspirins and an afternoon of cat naps.

I finally became aware of these consequences when a family member saw me locking lips with another individual and called me a whore. We've talked about the kissing before, it's old hat with me. "Like a junkie, with a crack habit..." My nickname in college was not "Kissing Bandit" because I thought it sounded cool. No, I earned it. Up until this point, all of the former ugliness was in the privacy of my own created hell, drama, and guilt. But to fail? So miserably? In front of family? That was the start of irreparable for me.

At 30, I decided I didn't want to engage in life altering behavior any more. I wish I could say that it makes everything better, but it doesn't. Not always. The people close to you have to see that they can't live on borrowed time any more, either. But that's not a belief you can pass on , or impose. They have to see it and want it, too.

Jane Says: If you change your mind, I'm the first in line - Honey I'm still free - Take a chance on me.

I went and got a pregnancy test today. This morning, when I went to pump gas - the smell of which I usually love - I felt overwhelmingly nauseated. Same thing when I walked into the lunchroom. I've been constantly shaky - no matter how much I fuel my body.

The pregnancy test came out negative, but Dick suggested that perhaps I was suffering withdrawals from alcohol. I was overly angered by this comment. Had I been drunk off my ass or even consumed more than three drinks every day for years and years or months and months or days and days, I'd be willing to accept this comment. However, a couple glasses of wine with dinner three nights a week, and then some weekend drinking? Withdrawals? Maybe I'm naive.

I'm sure I took a pissy tone with him. He told me not to yell at him. That's the second fucking time he's said that to me. He uses the same tone of voice with me that he uses with our oldest son when he's being unreasonable and it's enough to send me through the roof.

Is he insinuating that I'm an alcoholic? I don't know what he's insinuating. It just makes me angry. It makes me want to go to bed and curl up in a little ball and never put away the laundry and just leave the dishes in the sink and leave my report cards undone. I don't think he even knows how angry it makes me.

I hate being so angry about it. I can't stand the way we engage each other because we never see each other. One positive: When I get this angry, I'm glad I don't drink. I'd probably beat the living daylights out of somebody unprovoked.

Jane Says: I feel stupid and cuntrageous.