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.