I’m going to start at the end,all is well I’m sober 862 days and still counting. I know I’ll have a very Merry Christmas, my crystal ball shows it. The stockings are hung, the trees are up and cookie dough is made. It’s not even mid December and the shopping is done and the wrapping has started. Idyllic right? Ha, my ass.
Chapter One thru 32 . Thanksgiving
Sucked, Sucked. Sucked. The. Big. One.
There, I feel better already.
My stepmother and my niece and her two boys came to visit. My stepmother and the boys are great. My niece is a fucking reality show on stilts. Think Honey BooBoo mentality crossed with the fighting moms on Toddlers and Tiaras. Pushes away every time someone tries to throw her a lifeline. I’m not going to go into the shitty details. But
Their visit was cut short by two days. ( see me jumping up and down cheering and sighing in relief.) Cut short because she was being evicted…again. This time her dad and stepmom refused to bail her out. I don’t blame them, she’s 33 years old. She tries, sort of, works two jobs, takes care of the boys in the afternoon after school, until after dinner. At which time they go to baby daddy’s house, he still lives at home at 35, because he still does drugs and can’t keep a job for long, she’s ok with it as long as it’s soft stuff. OMG. According to my niece, his parents are alcoholics, functioning, and I could tell from the way the boys clothes reeked that they’re heavy smokers, but they’re feeding and clothing the boys and getting them to school.
She lies, a lot, so it’s hard to know what things have been embellished. She’s my sisters child. My sister died at the ripe old age of 47 with some weird cancer. We weren’t close, we traveled in entirely different circles. I was nine years older and got the hell out of our house and our town as soon as I could, went to college and never looked back, couldn’t look back and survive as well as I did. But, even my sister must be shaking her head thinking WTF is going on down there.
I used to help the niece with a little money but it either went to baby daddy or sometimes got stolen ( clearing my throat here ahem). Won’t do it anymore and her dad is done too, she’s got to stand on her own two feet. She thinks and acts like she’s still 19. My son and daughter tried teaching her boys that 1. You don’t call undershirts “wife beaters” (they’re 6 and 8) and their dad has hit their mom. And 2. You don’t say you’re going to use your Monopoly money to buy women.
What the fuck?
I’ve thought of calling child services myself, but I worry that they might be separated or that their situation would worsen, so…
All this bullshit and run on sentences are just so I could tell you I had one of the most stressful Turkey Day’s ever. Drinking crossed my mind several times. While almost in tears in the kitchen I told my daughter if I was going to start drinking again this would be the day. My skin crawled, reminding me of those early days getting sober when I wanted to jump out of my own skin, jittery, anxious. I didn’t drink, I hardly ate . I made tea. I feel guilty about not helping her more but at the same time she has to help herself.
You can have really trying days and still stay sober, because nothing, nothing is worse than Day 1. Almost 2 1/2 years and I still remember.
So, my almost charmed life isn’t always so charming . But, it’s over. Thank the Lord. I feel much better now that I’ve shared. It’s on your shoulders now, too. Happy days, until next year.
Maybe I’ll get #1 to take me out for dinner next year, in Fiji!
Now back to my favorite time of year. Especially since Santa is back in the house and hiding in my closet. Too bad Santa doesn’t look like this.
He can wear a red suit and wrap my presents any day and he’s in his mid 50’s . Nice.
Still lots to do, I haven’t seen the last Mockingjay yet, haven’t found my good mittens ( luckily it hasn’t been ass biting cold in Chicago. Yet.), have to actually bake the cookies and thaw the truffles I made earlier. Yum. I do love the holidays, the good and the bad. They make you appreciate your family, the good and the bad.
I promise to be back to my irreverent self next post. Till then, ho ho ho.