I remember why I don’t drink

This is a perfect place for me to vent and the blog topic couldn’t be more suiting. Let me start by saying, I have not drank in almost 5 years. I have never been a drinker because I was more concerned with other drugs, so alcohol has never been a drug of choice for me. I can drink and then not drink again for a long time. I pretty much stop drinking long before I got clean from drugs. It kicks my ass the next day, and sometimes it takes a couple of days just to recuperate from a good night out getting wasted. My body just won’t shake it off like it used to. Another reason, and the most important, is because when I drink two things can happen….it can go reeeally good or it can go reeeally bad. After a lot of bad ones, I just gave up. I had a lot of emotional issues and when I would drink they would surface. It’s like a light switch, one minute I’m having a blast, love everybody and feel like a superstar, and then something happens and I go from happy to angry and ready to burn the whole world down pissed off. And, if someone is with me who I have unresolved issues with, it is all bad news from there. I cry, I hit, I get evil, and I want to lash out at that person and anyone else that gets in my way. So, I stopped drinking.

Well, my son’s father asked me to celebrate our birthdays together this year. We are only a few days apart and I haven’t did anything for my birthday in years so I said what the hell, why not go out to eat, go play some pool, have a few drinks and call it a night. I was throwing back shots of tequila having a great time when baby daddy started acting a little weird. Let me take this time to say he has always had an issue with my other child’s father, and we do not have or ever have had a physically abusive relationship. I am not, nor have ever been, a woman that puts up with domestic violence.

So, baby daddy starts acting a little asshole-ish in the bar and gets himself cut off. I say “it’s time to take me home.” Instead of pulling out towards my home, he guns it onto the freeway towards his home. I am not happy about this and I am telling him so in a pretty bitchy manner. He is speeding way too fast when he comes off the freeway exit and wrecks his car. He took out a pole on my side of the vehicle, which broke out my passenger window. It scared the shit out of me because I saw it coming, and thought it was going to come through the windshield right at my face. I jumped out of the car when it stopped and ran. I live on the west side of town, and right now I was stuck on the north side. Anyone familiar with Saginaw knows it’s probably not where you want to be at 1 o’clock in the morning. At that time I didn’t care, I just wanted to run home.

I ran until I came to a fence. It was long and tall. I wasn’t about to hop a fence into some strangers yard, so I tried running along it in hopes of getting somewhere I could get back on track and somewhere that I recognized. All the while, I can hear baby daddy screaming my name. I wasn’t running because I was scared of him, I just didn’t want to deal with him as drunk as he was. I didn’t want to argue about going to his house, I just wanted to go home. And, he was being an asshole at the bar so I was done with the evening. He can be a handful sober, and we haven’t drank together in over 5 years, so I wasn’t interested in the outcome of the night together. I wanted to make it home safely to my kids and pass out.

The next thing I know, and this is like something straight out of a movie, a train is coming down the tracks. I ran towards it because the way home was on the other side. I did not make it, so I’m just standing there, watching it go by, waiting to cross, when he pulls up on the road I’m standing in. His car has a flat tire and is wrecked and he is obviously pissed off. He gets out of his car, and the argument I was expecting turns into him dragging me by my hoodie, which he had wound up so tight it was choking me, down the side of the train tracks. I’m begging him to stop. I tell him he is hurting me and I can’t breathe. At this point, I am fuckin scared because I’ve never seen him like this. I’m trying to get away, but he just keeps twisting the hoodie tighter, choking me more. Finally, in the middle of him screaming next to my ear, some crap about my other kid’s dad, he lets go and I get up on my feet. I ran to his car and jumped through the window because I couldn’t get the door open. He pulls me out through the window and does the same crap all over again. Now, I am pissed. So I start swinging to get him off me. That, of course only made things worse.

We tussled and wrestled. He never hit me but what he did do was enough. I got enough space between us while we were arguing and I ran to the car again. This time I made it before he could grab me, and I gunned the car in reverse and left his ass there. I drove all the way back to the west side on a rim with part of a tire attached to it. I parked it in a parking lot and walked the rest of the way home. I thought about calling the police. I thought about having his ass whooped. I thought about our son. I thought about a lot of things. I thought about how we don’t drink and haven’t in years. I thought about how I have acted when I was drunk, and flipped out on people, including him.

To be honest, I hate not knowing what to do. I told him to leave me alone for as long as it takes for me to figure out just how I do feel, because right now I just don’t know. I have no family here in Michigan or I know the circumstances would be different. My brother would kick his teeth in. I know I’m making excuses for him at this point and I know it’s unacceptable what happened, yet I’m trying to be understanding, because he just keeps telling me he doesn’t remember and he’s sorry. It’s hard also because I have an example to set for all my children. If it were someone else telling me this story, I would tell them to lock his ass up…..I think.