silence, wine, or anger

I haven't been writing because I haven't been dealing so well.  I walk around and do my teaching job okay, somewhat functioning on auto-pilot, guided by the fact that I take the responsibility of caring for the babies of 25 different families very seriously...but at home, my rope is so frayed I don't even know how to hold on, let alone prevent unravelling in anything like a healthy way.  So I have been drinking a lot.  And because I come from a family of alcoholics, that makes me incredibly self conscious, so I keep making sure that, now and then, I take nights off.  Like tonight.  I had a rough day at school, a lovely evening with Cilly at her last dance class, and had no faculties left AT ALL to deal with her whining and crying for me with her little "I miss you!" blah blah stuff...nothing I do is good enough.

How do I smooth the edges of this incredible pain without alcohol?  Without a silence that keeps me up at night and numbness that drinks the oceans of tears I know are swimming just below the surface?  I want to cuddle my husband, not give him shots in the belly and a urinal so he doesn't have to worry about falling on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  I want to remember what it feels like to not have a complete and Hyde-like meltdown when my kids push my buttons and just lose my temper at a more human-like level...

I eat too much, drink too much, skip brushing my teeth...as controlled ways to cause myself harm.  I can't explain why though.  And I don't know how to stop myself, because those things also give me a form of comfort.  Well, maybe not the teeth thing.  But that does get me in bed moments sooner than otherwise, like that really matters...

I guess I just wish there were answers.  Safety.  That I could feel what hope was like.  That I could turn off my brain, or at least switch the channel...I love my kids and I hate my life.  I hate what is happening.  I am trying to not judge myself as I do my best, even when that means I am raging in irrational anger at my 4 year old telling her with clenched teeth that "I.  JUST.  NEED. SOME.  TIME.  TO. RELAX!!"  That I could find a way to believe I would know what it is to be loved again. Not that I don't think John loves me...I do.  He just has a hard time doing so much right now, that even hugging and kissing is awkward, hard, nonexistent.  And I wish I could talk more or just find the strength to shut the hell up.  I get quickly tired of hearing myself complain, not that I don't have things to complain about; be terrified of; worry about...

So tonight, it might have helped to have a couple glasses of wine.  But this evening is dry.  To make sure I can.  To make sure I will. To find ways to hear my own pain, to find strategies for handling the inconsolable rage that wells up in me before it takes over....maybe Thursday, after I get my tattoo of John's idea, with his initials hidden inside, on my left hip so he will always be by my side.  I will drink to that.