Serving myself as well as others.

My posts on fb from 9 years ago paint a picture of an exhausted, lonely new mum of 2 demanding children.


When I look back on those years it’s not much of a surprise that I found solace in a bottle. I had no real friends once I isolated myself by having kids fairly young and moving to the countryside. The bearded one carried on his life the same as he had before we’d had kids while my life just stopped. I love my children so much but I honestly don’t think I would have had them if I would have known how hard it was going to be for those first few years.


I’m glad I had them, but I wish I would have been able to enjoy them being small instead of being depressed and lonely, often resentful towards them.


The bond between me and the kids has become stronger than ever over the last 2 and a half years of not drinking. I have good solid friendships. I have things in my life that are just for me and are not focused around parenthood. I’ll finally be doing my Masters in September and building up a life that serves me, not just everyone around me.

Looking to the future

My Aunty died this yesterday morning, my dads sister, age 72, the same age as her other 2 siblings who died before her. My dad is 63 and is now convinced he only has 9 years left.

I wasn’t particularly close to my Aunty but I went for a good walk yesterday afternoon and gravitated towards the church perhaps as a subconscious means of paying my respects. I’m not religious. For me God is nature and the spectacular powers of the rebounding energies of the universe. Looking up at the church from this angle was like looking up into the face of forces bigger than myself and being reminded that there is a huge world out there full of endless possibilities. I walked back home feeling excited about the future for the first time in ages.

All this is just temporary. I still believe there’s lots of good things yet to come. I’m just so glad I didn’t drink through the miserable patches of the last few months.

Much love to you all and blummin well done to us all for keeping on 💞✌

Reminders are handy

Fb memories from when my drinking started slipping into dark territory for the 2nd time in my life. I knocked it on the head in 2008 when I got pregnant with Megan, then I had Ethan in 2010. By 2012 I was back to abusing the bottle full time, sometimes drinking 3 bottles of wine or a full bottle of vodka in one sitting, until I finally knocked it on the head for good on 25/2/18 ♡

Nihilism

And just like that the world is a bleak blanket of dread, doom and what’s the fucking points.

The nihilist in me is winning today. Nothing is getting done and the likelihood of anything getting done for the rest of the day is slim.

Social media is aggravating and yet I still keep clicking on that bastard blue app and absorbing the bullshit. I’m writing this to vent and then I’m unplugging myself for the rest of the day.

I’m not drinking. My bastard mood will just have to run its course unmedicated while I periodically remind myself that all feelings are temporary and merely the result of an influx of negative hormones bombarding my limbic system and giving me an arse kicking.

This is what I get for gloating over how damn good I was feeling last week. What goes up must come down. Damn it.

Not today Satan.

I was wasted on a lot of booze and drugs in the photo on the left. I didn’t make it home that night just like many others. My heart aches when I think of the amount of mornings my husband and kids woke up and I wasn’t there 😦
2 years and 3 months sober me now on the right. I have made it home every night and have been there every morning when my babies have woken up and needed me. I no longer apologise for who I am because who I am is someone I’m now proud of. The woman on the left would not recognise me.
One day at a time ♡

Vicarious using.

Great film about the hedonistic treadmill of life and that terrible struggle of not wanting the party to end.

Do not watch if triggered by films of people using. I know a few people enjoy watching films of this sort just like I do so thought I’d share. By the end I was so exhausted from living vicariously through the characters that I felt nothing but grateful relief for my clean life.

It was so relatable for me that it made me feel ill in parts but I needed it. I feel refreshed. I feel like I’ve been dipped momentarily in the cesspit of my former drinking life, lifted back out, hosed down and towel dried by a maternal figure. I’m now cosy in my current world instead of dissatisfied and frustrated as I have been feeling over the last week or so.

That’s why I occasionally need to watch this stuff. I read the book a few years back and loved it. Real gritty in ya face stuff 🖤

Balance.

I couldn’t sleep last night, so after an hour of staring at the back of my eyelids thinking the same thoughts over and over I crept downstairs to have a rare couple of hours to myself in the living room, which these days is a space reserved for infuriating conversations with the kids about why they can’t just play on the PS4 all day and the overuse of the word “mum” ( approximate use 20 billion per day at varying levels of high pitched whinging).

I am going slightly bananas but I have so little right to complain given the fact that we have everything we need, we are in good health, and The Bearded One has even been able to continue working throughout lockdown (thank God cos his coffee slurping may have triggered his premature demise).

I love the kids but every day I hate them for a while aswell. I like myself but every day I wonder how I became the grumpy neurotic shell of a human i see scowling back at me in the mirror violently brushing her teeth to the soundtrack of her antagonistic spawn spitting toothpaste everywhere and kicking each other.

Anyway what I was going to say is that last night me and the tv had some quality alone time whispering to each other in fear of waking the other beasts that live here. It reminded me of when I used to creep in at 3am from the pub or wherever else I’d reluctantly got a taxi home from, begrudgingly allowing the party to end. I used to sneak back into my house and glare at everything that tied me to it, every responsibility, every commitment, everything that forced me away from the party and back to reality.

I would fall heavily on the sofa and fish out my phone from the depths of my bag, usually a frustrating task resulting in tipping the bastard upside down to defeat it’s trickery of hiding stuff from my drunk hands. At that point of the evening of course everything hated me and I hated everything. I would then spend an indeterminate amount of time searching for and listening to maudlin songs that would affirm to me what a sad state of affairs my life had become so I could have a suitably pathetic cry before eventually passing out in a pool of mascara tears. What a bitter, unsatisfied soul I was.

Last night when I sat half listening to the tv whispering to me I recalled all of those nights as I looked around the same living room that hasn’t changed much and yet feels completely different. I let my attention be caught by all the things that tell me that this is my home with all of my responsibilities and commitments, and I felt warm and safe instead of imprisoned and trapped.

I switched off the tv last night and opened YouTube on my phone and spent an hour listening to song after song that invoked big feelings of every kind, but there were no maudlin tears and once I’d had enough I went to bed to sleep.

This morning when I woke up and remembered my solo YouTube party there was no misery. I’d been alone but I wasn’t lonely or full of anguish. I no longer find it hard to sit with myself. I’m at peace with the decisions I’ve made, the shit that I’ve done and the life that I’ve made. All of the resentments I used to feel towards everything I couldn’t have any more have gone now that I’ve opened my future up to boundless possibilities. I was never going to find the stuff of my dreams in the bottom of a wine bottle, or a vodka bottle, or any bottle. Sitting on the sofa feeling sorry for myself was never going to get me very far either. Bollocks to that.

The party is over and I left it willingly 796 days ago (had to check my app). Every reason that I have to moan is also every reason I have to be grateful. I live with absolute arseholes who I love so much that it spills over into dramatic posts like this one every so often. I can’t imagine not being me, not being responsible for these infuriating kids, not being committed to the messy mass of sarcasm that is The Bearded One. If they didn’t need me anymore I’d lose a huge part of my identity.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this post but maybe it’s just that I’m talking it out with myself that it’s perfectly acceptable to feel both love and hate towards my nearest and dearest and also towards myself, aslong as the balance is right so I don’t feel murderous. Everything is as it should be and we are doing a damn fine job of navigating our way through a strange and confusing world. I’m still excited about what the future holds even with a newsfeed full of bleak prophecies.

Old me.

First drinking dream for a long time. It involved me hiding an open can of strong lager in my coat pocket and trying to conceal how drunk I was. I woke up feeling terrible about myself.

Very strange for me to have this type of dream right now because yesterday I was sat in the garden soaking up the sun and listening to music while the kids painted rocks, and while I sipped my iced water infused with fresh lemon I smiled to myself how great it was that I had zero desire to have any alcohol in my drink. A stark comparison to 3 summers ago when I would have been mainlining wine and becoming increasingly blurry.

After a lovely afternoon chillin in the garden I cooked shepherd’s pie, watched tv and had a giggle with the Bearded One and the kids, and finished reading my book before bed. If I’d have been drinking in the garden I most likely would have fell asleep on the sofa, been woken up by hungry children, fed them something crap and probably not bothered cooking the Bearded One anything. I most likely would have told him I feel unwell and left him and the kids downstairs so I could lie in my bed feeling ill and miserable for the rest of the night, unable to concentrate on tv and completely uninterested in reading.

I feel weird about the dream. I wasn’t enjoying drinking and I wasn’t even enjoying how it made me feel, yet I carried on. I feel weird about it because while I was having the dream I was definitely old me, if that makes sense. Every thought and feeling was old me. It’s disturbed me that she might still be in there somewhere waiting for me to falter.

I’m trying to turn it into a positive because it was an excellent reminder not to become complacent, but I feel bad, as if I have actually committed the act myself in reality rather than in a dream. God imagine how awful I’d feel if I’d actually had a drink. I’d probably feel so shit about myself that I’d end up drinking again. A viscous circle I do not want to return to.

Coronavirus brain noise

I put my phone away and watched an episode of My Mad Fat Diary this morning (first one for a long while) to get some reprieve from the madness. It worked. I didn’t think about all this crap at all for the entire 45 minutes, and instead had some lovely nostalgic moments with goosebumps triggered by certain songs, memories of my youth. Simpler times. Complicated times. Good times.

I’ve not been reading much.I’ve not been able to concentrate. I’m terrified if I’m honest. I’m terrified of catching the virus and being separated from the kids, or the kids catching it and them being taken away to a hospital without me (apparently this is fake news but unfortunately it’s in my brain now and the fear is here to stay). I’m terrified of it getting any worse socially and the inevitable riots. I’m terrified of the lives that are being and will be lost, and how lonely many of them will feel isolated at the end, nobody holding their hand as they take their last breath.

Everything feels unpredictable and all of the mixed messages and fake news isn’t helping. I’m not sleeping very well and when I do I have nightmares about it all. I wake up with that feeling of dread that something awful is happening and I can’t do anything about it.

We’re trying to make the best of it. I’m just so glad we have the outside space. I fluctuate between getting loads of exercise and feeling determined to use this time to get in shape, and then sitting in front of the tv (mostly watching the bastard news) in my pyjamas eating my body weight in shit food.

I had big plans to sit and do some writing but that time has been eaten up by home schooling the kids and arguing with the boy child about why he can’t spend every waking minute of his life on the PS4. In a fit of rage yesterday I regretfully told him that if he carries on with this attitude then he’s going to end up as a fat lonely miserable man. I spent the rest of the day guiltily allowing him to get away with murder.

I’ve contemplated drinking. Not in a reckless way. More in a way of thinking what it would be like to start drinking again during the current circumstances. It took about 5 seconds of contemplation before I inwardly laughed off the idea. How ridiculous it would be to add a hangover into the days stresses and strains. How frightening to add alcohol to my already over posting on social media. How sad it would be for my children to feel even more insecure by mummy’s distance in an already distant world.

This is a bizarre time in our lives but I’m hopeful that we will eventually look back on this time with a sort of fondness, much like how the old folk feel whimsical when they recall the days of the war. Just think how grateful we’re going to be for the simple things when we are once again liberated to enjoy them. I regret not making the time for me and my best friend to go for a much desired walk on Conwy Mountain while we were able to. But how much more enjoyable it is going to be when we finally get there. Because we will ♡

In times of hardship

Day 760.
There were a few people who at the beginning thought I’d be back on the pop at the first moment of weakness or hardship. Actually I think I was one of them 😆 How glad am I that I’m comfortably substance free during this crisis?! I would have been drinking earlier and earlier in the day stuck at home like this. Bollocks to that nonsense. I’m catching up on all the books I’ve been needing to read, the topics I’ve wanted to write about and the conversations I’ve wanted to have with the kids. How daft it would be to ruin this opportunity by being numb. It’s certainly a worrying time with challenges, but it’s surprising how much easier challenging times are when you stay in the moment.
Very very grateful 🙏🙏🙏🥰🥰🥰
Stay strong and healthy everyone 👊