My thirtieth birthday. Happy Birthday to me. My boyfriend is an alcoholic. So am I. All we do is drink. Thank the Lord my mom was there to take care of my kids. I get so drunk; I pass out on the bar. I throw an ashtray at the bartender just because I am angry, I am thirty years and a drunk. He said to me, "I am so disappointed in you. You are usually such a quiet drunk." When I woke up the next morning and had to go to the emergency room again for stitches because I was a punching bag for my boyfriend the night before, I had a positive thought.
Maybe 30 was a magic number. Could I start climbing back up that hill? Was there hope for me? I STILL didn't have the self confidence to call it off..