Commitment to "suffering": That's what the husband and I refer to as the time that follows any drug-run. This one was relatively low-grade. Some vicadins -- no more than a couple a day for about 8 days straight. I've noticed that they really turn on me. At some point, I can't take enough to stop the anger. Never mind the immediate distance that opens up between my son and me.
My son, an unusually empathetic and sensitive child of 6 has a chewing problem. He chews on his shirts like a puppy. I blame my moods. When I'm feeling more okay, I try to make up for the times of distance by loving him to death, but I'm convinced he sees through the fakery; sees me trying too hard or trying too little -- both unnatural.
Now I remember when I was really strung out.... I still had a job, but each day, during lunch, I'd have to drive to the projects and get my fix. While waiting for the guy, I'd anxiously watch the pedestrians and wonder how they 'did it'. How did they just go about their lives. They just went to work and came home to their families. They didn't need the stuff that made going to work and going home an adventure in feeling in love.
Now I have that feeling about being a mother. I want to know how it is that mothers do it. In the same unnatural manner, I can't stop the awareness of my mothering... "here we are reading together, here we are playing a game... does he love me? Am I doing okay? Am I not worried enough about his cough?" Where are my instincts?
I'm drippy today as it's the first day of the 'suffering'. It's 12:17 and so far I've not done anything I promised myself not to do. I've not even smoked a cigarette. They've gone up to almost $7.00 a pack this week, so it's just as well.
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