Right on schedule
It's Thursday, and it's been 2 weeks since the last episode, so here we are.
I came home from work to find a drunk and annoying and rude boyfriend. I probably shouldn't have said anything because he gets all snarky and won't admit it anyway. I confronted him about drinking today and he denied it and gave me the look that says 'I hate you for noticing, but I'm not going to admit it' look.
He lies more than anyone I know, and I hate it. It makes me SO mad. I'm trying to realize that there's no point in saying a thing because he knows it, and I know it. There's no need to have the fight but sometimes I can't help myself.
I think maybe for him, telling the truth is equally as difficult as his lying makes me angry. Does that make sense? He never wants to admit anything.
Anywho, he was the annoying, rude, ******* version of his drunken self, which is one of the different versions I have come to know. This one is my least favorite. He's like an annoying sibling poking you in the ribs until you can't take it anymore. Sometimes I really want to hit him. I HAVE hit him. I've thrown things more times than I can count, and I've said some really terrible things. When he's like this, it takes a lot of self control not to feed into it.
So today, I decided to take a nap before going to my class. I set my alarm and went to sleep. He pestered me and I ignored him and didn't engage him. Eventually he left me alone. He went to the liquor store, and came back and tried to cuddle with me. I didn't give him any satisfaction and eventually he went away. When I woke up, he was passed out on the couch.
When I came home 3 hours later, I saw his car parked down the street. There's a bar a few blocks further. He parks in this spot facing our apartment so he can just drive straight home with no stop signs. I have no idea how he makes it home sometimes, and this was one of those times.
I heard him pull up and struggle with the lock. I didn't look at him right away, but he was completely gone. His zipper was down and his pants were soaked with urine. I got him to sit down on the couch, and he soon passed out. He's been that way for an hour.
THIS is by far the most tolerable version of his drunken self. Also really sad because this only happens when he's extremely drunk. There have been times I thought I should call 911, but never have. It's sad to see him like this. So pitiful.
And this is my life.
When I say it out loud, or write it down and actually think about what's going on here, I can't believe it. How did I let this happen? How did this become the norm? How is this acceptable?? I know I can't fix it, but I wish I could, and I've wished it for so long. I feel like I know what I need to do if I ever want peace, but I keep thinking if I wait just a little bit longer, things will change.
I also sometimes think that maybe me staying is what's stopping him from getting help. If I left, maybe he'd hit his bottom and get help. But on the other hand, if I left...maybe he'd just drink way more and get himself killed.
Sorry for the rambling post, I'm kind of all over the place tonight.