Fragile Sobriety

Work was dumb. I’m still grateful to even have a job but I’m getting sick of dealing with people. I’ve burned myself out on customer service, however when I encounter people, I’m as sweet as a peach. The birthday party that was scheduled for today was a “strong personality”, showing up early, staying late. Their party included a cotton candy machine which I’ve never done by myself and I’m proud to say that I overcame my anxiety about it, successfully pulling it off for those snot-faced kids. Anyway, I’m giving 80% at work lately and it’s gonna stay that way. 

I needed to pick up the gifts that I got for Ruby and Amber from Mum’s so I texted her for permission to come over. After staying late because of that stupid party, I went to Mum’s hoping she wasn’t going to be there, but alas, no such luck. I don’t want to just grab stuff and leave, I sat down and talked with her. I had to bring up stuff that I didn’t care to talk about again. She informed me that I should have done this and I should have done that… well I didn’t do that, I did my own thing, sticking up for myself, maybe not at the right time, but it was Christmas and I was sick of pretending. 

I came home and accidentally vented about it to Mark. He slightly took her side but made the same point I did during the seasonal drunken argument: I’m a hypocrite. Especially for changing things so abruptly… okay, that I don’t believe. She ruined the last five hours of Christmas and I didn’t feel comfortable going to her house for a sleepover like everything was hunky-dory. Even Viv was disappointed that we weren’t going to my Mum’s house for the weekly sleepover. I felt even worse then. She is less than a week sober, I’m less than 90 days. We’re in no condition to be making such large decisions. I feel like this happened for a reason, a wedge came between us the week before I was supposed to move-in. Coincidence? I’m still fragile in my sobriety from alcohol and I noticed that I regress when I’m around my mother. All of that on top of abandoning my psychotic medication and living in two places again, it’s all driving me crazy. I need to set boundaries (Mark’s main point) and stick to them. Deciding not to move in at this time is a boundary that I’m setting. She clearly needs therapy to work through some deep-seated pain from her past so that we don’t have to do this again. We both have been saying for years, literally decades, that we need therapy. Either together or separately. I feel as though she really needs it because things often come out after she’s had too many. That didn’t happen for me. And if it did, it was extremely rare. I don’t lash out or take things personal and if I do, it’s not spoken of. 

I always just get an apology the next day from her and it’s annoying.