This is why keeping a written record is good. I’ve been saying the same things for weeks/months/years.

Oh, my.

I’m back in the realm of heavy drinking and, if not gambling real money then at least being consumed by it and ‘practicing’ at home on free sites. Something’s got to change. Actually SOME THINGS got to

I’m pretty sure I want to divorce my husband. He’s a nice guy, and I will always root for him, but I’m too young to be in a sexless marriage. I am also starting to resent him and this house and our life and and and and

But, it could also be that I am depressed and anxious and drinking too much and feeling unattractive because I’m fatter than I was (not fat, but fatter to be sure) and unhappy with myself as a result, and he’s the closest target. I’ve given myself a task. I’m going to get sober so that I can be sure if I really want to leave my husband, or if it’s an alcohol-induced lead vest.

I keep getting stuck at:

What will I tell his parents and family?
What shall we do about the...

All right, I’m drunk. Not DRUNK, but drunk, and wishing I wasn’t. Not because I did anything bad or dumb or weird, but because I think if I weren’t drunk, I’d be one step closer to not married. I keep thinking I need some sober clarity to make the move to divorce my husband. Or to meet someone to solidify my decision. But the truth is: I know, and I don’t want to hurt him. But I know.

Six months of sex is not what I want. More importantly, six months of no sex followed by not wanting sex WITH MY HUSBAND is a pretty clear sign. I can’t pretend I find him attractive anymore.

So. Options are: stay, and be unhappy forever, or go, and feel bad for a little while, and then fine.

I would like another choice, please.

Been a while. Too long. Drinking and gambling a go go. Relatively small consequences, some short-term financial shit, but back to basics, including writing here. Not sure why I stopped, to be honest.

I flossed tonight for the first time in months. That makes me feel bad about myself to write that. In general, when I am on a progressive path, I am flossing. When I am regressing, I am not flossing. So. There you go.

Back tomorrow.

I had a slip - the most glaringly obvious relapse in the history of relapse. The financial damage was minimal and, honestly, if I didn’t have a husband in my life, I probably wouldn’t have worried too much about it.

But I do have a husband, so I had a to tell him. And then I made an appointment with the therapist, after a four-month hiatus, to tell him, too.

The therapist thinks I’m replacing sex with gambling and drinking. I don’t disagree. Therapist thinks I have two choices: get a boyfriend or get a divorce.

The therapist said that my marriage doesn’t sound all that good or fulfilling to him, an outsider.

Hrm. That’s not what I expected. I pretty much figured the problem was me, but maybe the problem is we.

I gave my husband a version of this. I told him the therapist things I am replacing sex with gambling and drinking, so we should try to have more sex. Let’s see where that...

Note to self: If gambling caused the problem, gambling is not the solution.

Got a nasty surprise from the IRS today. Actually, surprise isn’t right - I think we knew it could/would happen, but I willfully ignored it to the point of denial. And some of ya’ll weren’t likin’ it.

So, we have to pay $4,500 to the IRS in pretty short order for the privilege of then being able to pay the IRS another $25,000 over time.

Look, I get it. I’m not mad at them. I’m mad at me that 7 months clean, and I continue to make fucked up financial decisions/non-decisions. And 7 months clean, and all I want to do is gamble. If gambling caused the problem, gambling is not the solution.

See also: If drinking caused the problem, drinking is not the solution.

If shopping caused the problem, shopping is not the solution.

I mean, shit. My job ends in 3 months. I know this because we’re interviewing my...

So, I’m planning a gambling trip to the casino. Why? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

Almost 7.5 months free. Is the the access to money? Yes, that’s part of it. OK, so maybe drop the credit card off with my husband.

Is it boredom? Yes, that’s part of it. OK, so what’s something you’ve wanted to do for a while and haven’t? A sewing class. Could I take a sewing class tonight? OK, not tonight - but there’s one tomorrow. But it’s during the time I should probably go to a GA meeting.

Speaking of, I should go to a GA meeting. There is one tonight, but not until 7:30, and I’ll be done with work at 4:30, so what do I do with myself for 3 hours?

OK, let’s walk through this. What it looks like if I gamble:

I go to the bank and withdraw $400. “Big bills, please,” I say.
I drive down to the casino, trembling with...

Well, a few hours until midnight but I feel pretty good I won’t blow my seven months - at least not tonight. Went to a GA meeting. It helped. It always does. Do I feel miraculously cured? No, I do not. Still not entirely sure I won’t cave in tomorrow and toss away seven months of striving and work and diligence that, if I’m being honest, has morphed into not giving a fuck and some denial and “maybe I’m better” chatter.

BUT - I won’t gamble tonight, so that is a good feeling.

Going to take a bath with some wine and a book and hope that tomorrow I can start another round of kicking the drinking, too. I know - absolutely know - I have to stop. I know this. Alcohol is a weight that keeps me, at best, flat and, at worse, stuck in a hole with just my eyes peering out at the world where everyone else seems to have it figured out better.

That’s not reality. I know that’s not reality. I’m...

If I make it to midnight, I’ll have seven months of no gambling. A lot and nothing at all, but things do “look” a bit better at seven months. New cars, new hair, bills paid (mostly) on time (progress, tho). So, from the outside, I’m doing it.

The trouble is the inside. Lots of cravings. Lots of drinking. Even thinking of suicide (only when drunk .. I think). I mean, I’m not actively trying to kill myself, more of, “I could if I wanted to thought,” which isn’t much better. But I don’t want anyone to freak out and try to contact emergency services, etc.

Oh, and lots of justifying and lying. Just “simple” lies, some omissions, but my truth telling has gone WAY down in recent months compared to when I first stop gambling.

This, writing, helps. Why do I try to do it with writing? And meetings. I haven’t been to a meeting in months. I am taking said new car to a meeting tonight. It is not...