Do I drink? Yes.
Have I drank more in the last seven months than the rest of the time since I turned 21? Yes.
Do I drink every day? Nope.
Do I need alcohol to have a good time? No.
I feel like those are important questions to get out of the way before I start this post. Not because I feel the need to defend or validate the alcohol consumption that took place at my house on Saturday, but because I don’t want those questions to be blocking your mind as you read what I have to say.
Saturday, February 14th, was rock bottom for me. I woke up and my heart was instantly hit with the fact that it was Valentine’s day. I forced myself to shake it off as I turned up Miranda Lambert and got ready. I decided to take extra time making myself feel super pretty in hopes that a good hair day would keep me in a good mood.
I spent the day with BB and the kids running around town, taking new head-shots for the blog and letting J-Man get some energy out at our local trampoline park. We drove around to a few different restaurants that we thought wouldn’t be busy only to find out that we were way wrong.
This is where my good mood started to fade a little. Seeing all the happy couples at dinner reminded me of where I was on that same day the year before. I tried to keep my good mood and I could tell that BB was trying her hardest to make me laugh, but I think we both knew it wasn’t working. We finally decided to pick up some Chinese food and go back to her house to eat.
By the time we were done eating it was taking everything in me not to cry so I excused myself, packed my stuff and went home. I had resorted to doing the one thing I didn’t want to do. Be at home all by myself. I had a bottle of wine I was going to open and figured I’d watch a movie or take some ZZQuil and sleep through it.
The final blow came when I was pulling into my apartment complex. Shotgun Rider by Tim McGraw came on the radio and I lost my shit. You might think this is a weird song to loose it too, but one of the things I always loved was holding his hand over the center console while we were riding around town in the truck with the music up. Life always seemed so simple and perfect in those moments.
I sat in my car for about five minutes trying to compose myself enough to get into the apartment. Once I made it inside I opened the bottle of wine sat on my kitchen floor and cried. I didn’t turn on the lights or any music. I sat there with nothing but my wine and the images running through my mind. They started out as memories of us throughout the years but quickly turned to images I would have given anything to never have to see again. Before I knew it I was on my second bottle of wine and I had called up a friend who sat patiently listening to me cry, laugh, make excuses for him and be angry.
In those moments on my kitchen floor, thanks to my wine and a friend who was willing to just listen, I vocalized almost every thought – good and bad – that I’ve had over the last seven months. Thoughts that I have written on paper, but never said out loud because I have been so worried about what people would think of him or they would feel like I’m trying to taint his image or make them pick sides.
I woke up the next morning feeling the effects of the wine, but I also felt refreshed. I took down all my wedding pictures or pictures of the two of us. I didn’t cry when I did it. I just took them down and put them in the front bedroom closet. I’m proud of myself for not only taking down the pictures but finally letting myself go enough to hit rock bottom. I was so scared of it happening that I was doing everything I could to keep it from happening.
Thanks to the wine, I was able to open up and get so many feelings out. I’m sure most of them made absolutely no sense at all, but I wasn’t worried about it. I wasn’t worried about how crazy I sounded or how what I said would change this person’s perceptive of him. I sobbed and yelled. I hit rock bottom so that I could pick myself up.