the end of a solo, sober week
I’m sober. You? I’m figuring out a lot of stuff this week, here on my own, temporarily husband-less. I kinda like being alone. It’s easier. I can be truly selfish. I kinda hate being on my own. I miss my partner in crime, and i hate doing all the catering dishes myself (!). I am also (gasp) forced to make my own coffee every day. i mean really. there are limits. I was single for a long time before i got married, i’m used to being independent and self-sufficient. but when someone who loves you makes you a cup of coffee and a tuna sandwich, it’s nearly worth the trade-off of having their socks ON the coffee table.
i said to my friend on the phone yesterday, i’m in this relationship with Mr. B for the long haul. we’re going through some changes and if this next phase doesn’t work, then we’ll try something else. till we find something that does work. i know that not all relationships have this luxury; we’re both willing to figure it out. Move him to a separate office. check. and if that’s not enough? then we’ll do something else (in fact, i’m already scheming on a cool project for us that could help with finances, career, togetherness, apartness; he of course may veto the idea, but i’m still looking ahead for another thing we implement). i said to my friend on the phone, “he really loves me, and i used to consider myself just about un-loveable. so yeah, we’re going to figure it out. he’s worth it.”
and if i look back over this sober, solo week, where i couldn’t blame anyone for anything, then here’s what i see: two great night’s sleep, followed by one shitty night (tues night) that led to a two-day downward spiral. i hate my life when i’m tired. i hate catering, i hate my job, i hate the city. OK, yes, hate is too strong a word. I’m unhappy with my life when i’m tired. and then Presto i get some sleep and i’m back to normal again.
with Mr. B away, and no one to blame for my sleeplessness (except myself), no one to blame for the work, the irritation – just me – now i see that the cause of the problem is in fact me. just me. i cannot write this again. it’s just so boring. i’ll write it in white ink, ready? I MUST GET ENOUGH SLEEP, and i must run. those two things virtually guarantee that i like my life. (i must stay sober too). three things. that’s it. i’m already doing #3. i have to do #1 so that i can do #2. point finale.