This weekend Mare is gone on her annual winery tour weekend.  She goes down to Niagra-On-The-Lake for 2 nights and stays with about 10 ladies.  They rent bikes and travel around to a bunch of wineries.  This is one of those weekends that I used to look forward too because I could be alone for a while and I wouldn’t have to hide my drinking.  I am usually OK for the first night but then the committee of idiots in my head start to get rambunctious and I get the stinking thinking going.  Yesterday I started to romanticize the drink.  I started thinking about how it was better back when I could control my drinking.  And of course it was, fuck, back then as long as I had a bottle of vodka I was content.  Or at least I was content until the hangover and remorse kicked in.  I hear lots of people in the rooms talk about how they are glad that they are alcoholic, because it got them into the rooms and recovery and how much better their lives are now.  “Are they fucking nuts?”  I get the part about how my life is better now, but I am certainly not grateful that I am an alcoholic.  Fuck that noise!  Sometimes I am right pissed off at this whole situation.  But I have accepted it.  I am not yet at peace with it, but I have accepted it.

Perhaps I am just in a position where I feel like a lot of stuff is about to come boiling up to the surface.  Mare has arranged for us to go see a therapist on Monday.  I wonder what she is going to say and what I am going to have to react too.  Maybe some stuff is going to come out that we should have dealt with a long time ago.  Like the kids issue.  She still wants them, and I don’t know where I am with this idea.  I’ve had a few days lately where I think it would be great and then I look at my life and wonder how the hell I would manage this responsibility?

Well, fuck it, I am off to yoga.  I am capable, worthwhile and loveable…….

scared shitless

Well, I am freaking out a little bit.  Not because of life or my marriage, or my sobriety, or anything really serious…..well to me it’s serious.  I signed up to run a half marathon.  I don’t even know what I was thinking.  I used to run a lot about 10 years ago.  I have obviously not been running much in the last 5.  I have been going to the gym for a little over a year now and I love it.  In the back of my mind was a goal to get back to running.  EVENTUALLY!  I have been dealing with that broken foot issue and I have been forced to hold off on that goal for quite a while now.  But in the last month or two it’s been feeling pretty good.  I have been running on the treadmill on and off without much pain.  But I think it’s a far cry from doing this damn 21km run.  I can manage 5km on the treadmill (dreadmill), how the fuck am I going to ramp that up to 21km?  Sheesh….am I ever going to learn?  I never make things easy on myself.  I guess I will try to keep posting about my progress.

from bad to worse

Well fuck me sideways, this day has been a complete fucking pile of rubbish.  I woke up feeling good and decided to head into town for my District 8 meeting in Barrie.  Now, Mare and I have not really spoken too much after yesterday’s blow up.  Then I am sitting in the meeting and I start getting messages from her about doing our meal prep.  She then states that “I am going to get some wine”.  Now this is a normal thing to say for some people and in many households.  However, I have not had to deal with alcohol in my house in almost 2 years.  I immediately went into the dark and anxious part of my mind.  How dare she, what is she thinking?  We haven’t even talked about this yet.  That sort of thing…..which may seem irrational.  But this has been a safe place for me for the last 2 years.  There is only ONE place in my life that I can control what is happening around me.  She tells me that she feels like she has to walk on egg shells around me, that she doesn’t feel normal in her own house.

My problem with this situation is that I have been feeling very, very low lately.  I have found myself fantasising about the drink.  I am scared about it a little because I know that this is the first step towards relapse.  It’s almost as if I am planning a relapse.  This is not a matter of will power.  I know that will power has no place in this.  I know that if I take that first one I might as well just off myself.  Because it will be an ugly situation for me.  I am constantly wrestling with my mind that tells me, “you have the ability to have just one, and you can stop, and no one need ever know about it”.  I have that disease of the mind that is telling me that I don’t have the disease.  This has been going on for a few months now.

Now throw in this situation with her wanting to drink wine in the house or on the patio.  She doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal.  But my problem is that she didn’t think once to talk to me about it.  She just sent me this flippant text message stating that she was doing the one thing that I have asked not be done in the house.  On top of that she thinks I am calling her selfish when I state that she doesn’t seem to care that I am asking for this to be a safe place.  She thinks that I should be over this fear by now.  And she says that she doesn’t trust me enough to talk to me about stuff like this.  But if she had, I would have compromised and said, “how about I take you out for dinner and a glass of wine.”  I just don’t feel ready to have that in the house.

This of course led to her talking about how she has always wanted to have kids, and that her biggest regret is that she hasn’t done that.  (once again, this apparently is my fault, even though this is the first time she has said it me directly….also I am not sure how we got onto this topic)  She says she wants to go back to counseling….she never really went in the first place.  She left it up to me and I have no real desire to go back to that sort of thing.  It’s fucking expensive and we certainly don’t have the money for this right now.  She has racked up her credit card to 21, 000 again.  How in the fuck am I supposed to live like this…..

rollercoaster saturday

So the Burgers with Bill 2 BBQ was a really great afternoon.  I had enough people show up to make it worthwhile.  Lot’s of great fellowship and sobriety there.  It was successful enough that I had people asking me already about doing another one.  Which is a great idea, given that I now have help to get this even off the ground.  Last year it was just me and I stressed myself out enough that I had second thoughts about this one.  This time though I had friends offering to help with bring food and cooking, which made things much easier.

When I left the event to head home I started to get these really crazy messages from Mare.  She sent me a screen capture of some person’s post on Facebook, it was a post about having a room for rent in Wasaga Beach.  The post was up in a group called Angus/Borden buy and sell.  It’s a basically a yard sale group and I browse it frequently.  Actually I would say I browse it more than I actually interact with people on Facebook.  Anyway, apparently in my browsing of this group I accidently responded to the room rental post with “Interested”.  I defenitly did not intend to post that.  I was not actively looking for a room to rent.  It was a honest accident.  When I got home she was really upset, and crying and I tried to explain it.  But she wasn’t listening to me.  She still doesn’t believe anything I say or trust me.  I tried to tell her I was not actually posting it to seek a place to live and I wasn’t looking to move out.  But this brought up another resentment of mine.  I remember when she was looking into selling the house while I was still drinking.  She was talking to a real estate agent behind my back.  I am still pissed off about that.  But she doesn’t believe that she did anything wrong.

It’s been a day full of really great highs and angry bitter lows.  I am frustrated that she shut down and won’t talk about it now.  She doesn’t want to deal with it.  I am really starting to think that I should just rip the fucking band aid off and tell her that this shit is not working, that we need to try something else.

burgers with bill

Tomorrow is a big day, I am responsible for a a sober bbq that is going to be happening down on the water front in Barrie.  I have invited a bunch of people from the rooms and even some friends from my treatment center.  I did the same thing last year and it was beautiful.  We should be getting some beautiful weather and hopefully we get a nice turn out.  I do my best not to complicate things with this event.  I tend to over think things and it gets in my way when it comes to keeping things simple.  People always want to know what to bring to these things and I have a hard time asking people to bring anything.  I feel guilty, as if it’s my job to bring everything because it’s my idea and I’m organizing it.  But I need to get out of the way and realize that people want to come and people want to bring things to help contribute to the day.  I am really looking forward to it though.  I hope some of my friends show up.


Just wondering when things around here started to change.  When did Mare and I stop communicating?  When did the wedge of animosity get driven in between us?  It seems like we live two separate lives and we sort of spend a few minutes playing catch-up at the end of the day.  Not even because we care all that much, just out of some form of marital obligation maybe?  It feels so weird to sit at a table and ask how her day was and then to get a “it was OK” type of statement from her.  It’s similar to sitting with a teenager and asking them how school was today.  She doesn’t really want to share, just has to be polite I suppose.  I don’t know how much longer this can carry on.  When am I going to lose it and figure out how to make my self feel better.


Well shit.  This long weekend has started off poorly.  We’ve had this family of rabbits that have taken residence in the back yard.  They’ve been all over the yard, both front and back actually.  I located their nest not too long ago, as it was apparent that they adult rabbits were back there for a reason.  I have been staying away and not using the lawnmower to try to prevent scaring or injuring the little baby rabbits, they are so adorable.  Well, this morning I looked around the nest and the little bunnies have fled the scene.  So I figured tonight was the night that I could get the lawns done.  I double checked the spot and made sure that they were not present.  Then I went into the shed to retrieve the mower.  This is where things took a turn.  I pulled open the door and dragged the mower out of the shed and this little baby rabbit came flopping out of the shed.  It somehow got in there and then as I was dragging everything out it got crushed in between the mower and the door and the ground.  The poor little guy suffered some sort of catastrophic head injury.  I watched this beautiful little creature shake and twitch and try to get up over and over.  I tried to leave it alone a little bit and see if it would be able to sort itself out.  I ran into the house and got some cold water, hoping that maybe the little guy was just dehydrated.  But it didn’t seem to help.  I tried to prop it up, and get it breath, I helped him move his little paws and tried to get it to stay awake.  All to no avail, the poor injured bunny didn’t make it.  I sat there for a while watching this beautiful and perfect creature while feeling absolutely crushed that this happened.  Many thoughts came rushing through my mind, if I had only been more careful.  If I had only waited a day or two to do the lawns.  If I had only been more careful……

I do realize that this was beyond my control.  That there is nothing that I can change about this, but it still makes me sad.  I will attempt to be more careful in the future.