Never a moment in most of my life (sober or not) have I felt so lost for words yet full of emotion. This mix has my level of uncomfortability at a rapid high where I just want to stop writing, but I reluctantly push on.
Yes, I suffer from alcoholism and I am in my third and highest level of treatment. I am well aware how life has been set awry by my addiction and for that I'm sorry. But even before I could even spell the word addiction or alcoholism life with you has been war. A losing war to your constant judgement and criticism. I don't understand what is wrong with you? I'm ok with who I am but you refuse to allow me to remain ok with who I am. Why are you so focused on what I do whether right or wrong? Regardless you fail to support me in anything that you don't like as if it is you that is living it. I need for you to release me, I'm not you. I'm not in your womb. I am my own, not property of your ghosts or dreams.
The sad part for you is that I will run from you on my own if you chose to believe that you have any reign over my existence. My plans don't revolve around you, but they don't have to experience your absence either. My biggest fear is that you wish me to not succeed in sobriety so that I will always need you to rescue me. Finally I can say I feel safe in my environment of sobriety without you, and that is great. All you have to do at this point is listen, whether a second or an hour.
I never wanted your advice.
I see now why comfort is so important to me and why I yearn for it.
You were so protective over me that I never was allowed to rest in my own desires of what comfort is. You worked so hard to provide your idea of comfort while stripping me of mine to make it "ours". It took active measures to be comfortable at home, probably why I drank, and why I wished to never be home. It was not my comfort, it was yours. (8-7-18)
