I thought having a blog would be easy. Post a few pictures, make a witty comment here and there and BAM you have a blog. But I don't feel like being witty. Truth is, I'm depressed. Really depressed. Medicated off my ass just to make it through the days and nights.
This is nothing new for me. I've dealt with this shit since I was a teenager. Chemical imbalances, years and years of therapy and I was all better. But the stress of my life lately has just taken over.
I guess I should start with the beginning of the end. October 8th, 2005. My wedding day. I played the part of happy bride all night. I wore the beautiful couture dress, I smiled and laughed. We had our first dance, choreographed but we messed up because we were laughing our way through it. I was in love. I was marrying my prince charming. He was rich, handsome, spoiled me rotten. And an alcoholic. Or as he skirted around the term. An alcohol abuser, not as alcoholic. What was the difference I'll never know.
Now as many times as we've heard this "you cannot change a man" I never believed it. I thought, oh once we nest and get settled he'll drink less. He'll start coming straight home from work instead of stopping off at the bar on the way. I was wrong, dead wrong.
Right now I know I'm rambling but I had to tell the beginning before I get to the end. And I'll get to the end. Another time.
