Washing the washer
I decided to try to take a nap. Worst case someone would wake me up. No one did.
I had a horrible nightmare about Biscuit, except, in the dream, he was a black cat (Bubba, maybe?), and I had to put him down. I was so happy to wake up to Biscuit's begging.
Ron got up too. He was moody, depressed, and drinking. I did some laundry.
Ron asked me to look up some BBQ restaurant reviews. I did that, they weren't great. I think we need to stick with the place we're using now.
I decided to call my Dad. He just had a cardioversion last week to fix his A-fib. His mother had heart rhythm problems, too, so I need to keep an eye out for that and mention that to doctors if I ever have trouble.
Anyway, I called. Ron was sitting on the floor near me, drinking. He kept trying to "contribute" to the conversation and I had to keep shutting him up. I either ignored him or told him no, I wouldn't be "sharing" that. It was very annoying, like having a 3 year old. At one point Ron mentioned he was drunk and I passed that along.
I'm sure they had already figured that out.
When I hung up, Ron made some very cruel comments "They don't really want to hear from you, they're just being polite" "They wish you would never call them again" stuff like that. I calmly told him he was wrong and he pretended to make a joke out of it. "They hate you so much" ha ha.
I didn't think it was funny, but alcoholics will try to split their partners from their families. I think he liked it better when I hated them (I had my reasons). I know he liked it better when I hated them.
I think he has a couple of reasons. One, he doesn't want me to have any allies but him. It is safer for him, the alcoholic, if I don't have somewhere else to go. Second, he is envious because his family disowned him. If he called any one of his family members, they would hang up on him.
Well, we reap what we sow. Not that I think they are a great loss.
They were always very judgmental to me. I tried desperately to please them. Until the accident, when I put Ron's welfare before all else.
I still grapple, would it be better for Ron if I did an intervention, risking losing our business (it is dead, without me), to save Ron? Is he functionally stable? He still takes Tylenol with vodka, which is very bad for his liver. The only thing he will "let" me do about that is buy him milk thistle, an herb with a good reputation for protecting the liver. I feel pretty helpless. I figure God will give me a sign of some sort when He wants me to act.
But in the meantime, do I get another job? I don't think I could get a job that would support me, with the hours I have right now.
Ugh. At least I remembered to "wash" my washer tonight.