Day 30: Part 2
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.
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.
This entry was posted
on Monday, June 19, 2006 at 2:04 PM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
» Post a Comment