drunken ramblings

Sitting here at 5:49 am, after polishing off a bottle of wine provided by my husband who is quietly snoring away in the next room, I am reviewing the events of the past week. I know, I know, never a great thing to do on a bottle of wine. I spoke up for what I believed in. Those that matter, tell me I did the right thing, yet why do I feel like I've royally screwed up my life. I've spent countless hours crying silently so as to not upset Bruce. Fighting to maintain my dignity at work, yet feeling so very alone. I sit here wanting to cry yet again but the tears will not come. I haven't truly recovered from my depression, just enough to fake it so the doctor will send me back to work. With Bruce applying for CPP, I don't have much of a choice. He doesn't qualify for long term disability so one of us has to work. It is going to be a long, financially broke and lonely winter. I should go to bed but I fear bed spins. Don't tell me I'm an alcoholic but at times like this I almost wish I were. At least I would have the ability to drink myself into a stupor.