I remember my first and only AA meeting. The gal up front who’d made the coffee looked around and opened with something along the lines of “welcome, we’re all here for the same reason- when we drink, we can’t have just one; one just isn’t an option.”
I’ll never forget that sentiment.
You’re a drunk.
And I would know.
Could you slur some more while you ask if I fed the dogs? Yep, you can.
It is ten o’clock at night, and we feed them right after work at five.
Yes. I fucking fed them. Just because you blew off the evening getting shit faced, blaming me for making you want to drink, and ignoring your responsibilities-our family-molly’s dance thing-LIFE, doesn’t mean the world stopped turning.
Sometimes I feel like it does, but it doesnt.
Things get better.
Things swing back down, reminding me to question how a head strong, independant, stubborn girl like me ended up trying to take responsibility for your shitty choices and finding a way to pretend it never happened later.
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