Updated: Feb 9
The damage has been done, and now I have to reckon with the consequences — not my favorite. Dealing with consequences is too adulty.
I was served bloody divorce papers over the weekend. They came in a large envelope, which I opened, and there they were. I was officially served.
What I want to do is buy myself a few bottles of wine, have a pity party, throw myself into my feelings, and rot in my sorrow. If I was not an alcoholic, this is precisely what I would do. I would take a few days off work, drink some good liquor, exercise my body, and retreat into introspective thinking. Yes, please!
It sure is inconvenient being an addict at times like these.
My initial emotion is utter sadness for myself, my wife, and my marriage. But I do not know how to be sad, because I never learned that skill as a child. I was taught that sadness is for people with time to spare and the privilege to sit around a mope. Not us. We are immigrants, and if we dare have an emotion, it better be anger so it can fuel our economic growth. Sadness is not for us.
Which is a real goddamn shame! Because….
If I had learned how to feel and be sad without having to jump towards anger, then I probably would not be in this mess, I would be happily married.
I never wanted to be so angry. Life is good for me. I certainly do not have a practical purpose for anger, which is probably why I drank so much. I’ve always wanted to be relaxed, comfortable in my skin, quiet, gentle, confident - all the things that I am, but never knew I was because I was pumping so much booze into my mind, body, and spirit.
Gosh, darn it!
Okay, back to my divorce. My wife knew I was all these great things, and with the virtue of patience, she could help me polish off the extra dust. However, in the help of others, I tend to collect extra dust. Someone else is around to help dust. Yay!
Marrying my wife meant that I could follow my dream of boozing up life. I’ll finally be the fun, free-spirited woman I have always wanted to be. Hooray! I found my match, and I’m in love!
Fast-forward to the last two years of our marriage, and I am a total drunk. Finally, I had found a family member that allowed me to be whoever the fuck I wanted. Sad for my wife that I thought I needed alcohol to be the person I am.
In AA, there is a saying, “it gets worse never better,” regarding an alcoholic’s booze consumption. The same is also true for anger. Untreated anger gets worse with age. It turns into unintentional cruelty towards the ones we love most.
This weekend is not what I intended it to be, but I guess it’s life. I do not have to drink over it — what a concept.
When life gets tough, I'll take a Peloton Ride, please. Make it two.