I cleaned all weekend. The house looks fantastic. All except the sink. She left a million dishes behind. All just soaking there. The hamburger helper skillet has obtained a soul and threatens me sometimes.
I put Puzzle in foster care since she is abusive towards him. I spend most of my time there as well.
She left on Friday. My weekend was amazing. I felt great, I had no qualms with sobriety.
Monday her status read: Chelsea feels guilty about skipping class because she absolutely dreads going back to Hays.
Good for her.
Tuesday I came home hoping Chelsea would either have her dishes done or at least be making more in a cheery mood, thanking me for cleaning the house. Neither. She was in her room, on the phone with boyfriend, like usual. Sink monster growling at my entrance. My tablecloth was on my bed, a new festive one was on the table. Didn't know what that meant. I went to Chris's and slept four hours. I woke up, and got ready to leave, he walked in I mentioned that something happened but I didnt remember what. I suddenly remembered and I very comically explained the tablecloth ordeal. He laughed and I went home to obtain pajama pants. I saw Lucas's and Megan's car at the house so entered upstairs and gave the same performance. Megan, who has no sense of humor laughed at my finale. I grabbed my pants and left. On the way home a wave of panic overwhelmed me and as soon as I reached Chris's, I went straight for the alcohol. I had just enough vodka and orange juice to take the edge off. I felt indifferent to what had happened. She left sarcastic comments inquiring about the absence of Puzzle on facebook. I decided my diet coke didn't have enough vodka.
Today I felt irrationally sad all day. I couldn't stop thinking about drinking. I tried to take a nap. I went to the bathroom and started crying. Just a little at first. After a few minutes I thought I was done. Then I grew hysterical. I sat on the floor, tearing my hair out, wailing. I rolled around on the floor sobbing for about an hour. When I finally wore myself out I went out for a smoke.
"Chelsea has come to the conclusion that Grampa no longer exists. Just Rachel and even that is questionable."
I sped home with several questions:
What did I do wrong?
What do you want me to do?
Who am I now?
How can you tell?
I'm never around.
She wasnt home, I texted Chris "Her facebook status" and was surprised to find a response from Chelsea. I texted the wrong person. I told her I figured we needed to talk but she said she wouldn't be home. I left her a letter in her room. It wasn't a nasty letter. Just telling her about how I'm sad all the time, how she can put me on edge and how I have absolutely no idea what I did wrong.
I went back to Chris's. I brought vodka.
This is the most tension between me and another person since I lived with my mom. I hate drama. I hate sobriety. I wish this all wasn't so lame. I wish this pathetic squabble wasn't the reason I want to drink. I wish I had something worthwhile to talk about in counseling instead of this jr. high bullshit.
A week and three days. I am absolutely pathetic.
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