There is no such thing as a “regular” argument or disagreement in the alcoholic household.

Two of my children got into tonight.

Like siblings do.

It probably would have been ok but then my husband came upstairs as I was trying to sort the kids out.

“Don’t even come in here,” I told him.

But he did and it all went to hell in a handbasket as they say.

Next thing you know, he’s screaming about “fucking this” and “fucking that” and of course I am fucking crazy.

If you had told me on my wedding day, this was to be my life.

I would have called you a liar.