Breathing my Mind into Your Face

I had a great most of my day yesterday. I was busy but not overwhelmed, just knocking shit down at work with a seamless transfer into dad duty where I picked up the kids, hit Panera, made it to drums and piano on time, then got haircuts at Mae’s. On the drive from music to Mae’s I called my wife. She was short on the phone and said she was at the bar with a dude she went to high school with and was about to leave to go home. I had an initial pang of nervous, wtf. The day before she was downloading this sober calendar and seemed like she wanted to join me on my recovery journey for a little bit.

When we were at Mae’s I played with H and J when they weren’t in the cutting chair. They fought over my phone but eventually landed on a show they could watch together while I got my haircut. I had a great conversation about what the last three weeks has been like for me. She opened up about some family stuff that’s been happening on her end and I felt like we bonded. She cried and my eyes had a definite glisten, it was a moment.

Got home at 8:30 and wife wasn’t there. I called her and she said she’d be home in a minute. I could tell by her voice she was drunk. After she had left the bar she went to a different place to get take out, sat at the bar, then ended up staying at the bar to eat, got to chatting with the other bar folk, and then came home to put one of the kids to bed. I got nervous because I didn’t know what to do. So I texted my sponsor and asked. My initial instinct was to say, “hey what the fuck?”. But sponsor said don’t engage and to ignore would be best. So I read with J, then H and she came into bed with us and listened to J read for a while. I went over some world capitals with J, then left and dodged our bedroom where I could see the light was on. I started thinking about all the times I did that to her this past summer coming home from golf league. It was always an argument. Sponsor mentioned tolerance. I tuned out the bad thoughts and went to the playroom to watch a Game of Thrones. I debated sleeping in the guest room, but decided to go to our bed. I’m glad I did, because now as I sit here this morning I feel I didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. Doing so would’ve been extremely hypocritical on my part. I’m putting her through a lot by going from party boy to saint in a three week span. Her head is spinning and I’m ready to learn from past fights and find ways to be better together. It’s a process.