After

Yep, everything I wrote last night still rings true. Pepper that with the fact that when he did come home, he was out of it, but I felt it necessary to state that I was upset and I was sleeping in the other room. I hadn’t seen him all week, and it hurt my feelings that he stayed out all night. And then I cried, told him I wasn’t mad, but that I felt abandoned and forgotten about. I kissed him on the cheek and said we were OK, but that I needed some space and would stay in the other room.

He reacted by some kind of self-punishment of sleeping (passing) out on the couch in his clothes. He said he didn’t want to come to bed if I wasn’t there.

This. This is what he does. I get upset with a valid emotion, I share it with him and instead of letting me be with it and process it in my own way, he gets overly-remorseful and makes it about him. He does something juvenile so that I have to then put my feelings aside and step in to “take care” of him, like tossing and turning until 3 a.m., and then finally insisting he come to bed and get some proper sleep so he’s not entirely useless the next day.

Other past examples of this kind of behavior after I express some fear, worry or upset: sleeping on the floor, declaring he was going to quit his job, declaring he would get additional jobs and work 24 hours if he needed, declaring he would never see his friends again, declaring we would never see his family again.

I mean, geez, buddy. All I said was that it would be nice if you stuck up for me when your brother was an undeniable (not a subjective) asshole to me.

It’s trained me not to share my feelings with him because it plays out in him reacting and me having to react to his reaction, instead of feeling what I’m feeling. I suppose I don’t HAVE to pull him out of his reaction; I could just let him be.

At the expense of sounding like a whiny 4-year-old: It’s not fair. Let me feel my feelings, damnit, without making it about you.

He’s going to wake up and be upset, and hungover, and tired. But I’m not brushing this aside. The paradox here, though, is that as much as I wanted him to come home and spend time with me last night, the fact that he didn’t makes me NOT want to spend time with him now.

This sobriety thing is a trip. It’s early - lord, I know it’s early - but with just 5 days and some change (today will be day six when the sun sets), I have a lot more clarity. Rather than fearing being sober, per se, I’m intrigued to see what else is coming. My foundation isn’t entirely solid, but I feel like I have my wits about me for the first time in a long while.

I honest to goodness cannot recall the last time I have gone five days without a drink. I think 2009 when I was doing court-ordered alcohol counseling for my DUI. That was helpful and indicative, I suppose.

Will I drink again? I don’t know. But I feel very resolved to at least make it these 90 days and see what’s on the other side.

In a related note, I had a super scary (was it real or was it a dream?) dream in which I stole money from my dead mom’s dead best friend to gamble with. It wasn’t much - $125 - but it was a nightmare of sorts for me. No bueno. I was very relieved to wake up and realize it was all in my head. As most things are.