It’s Thursday. It’s early morning. I have actually had alcohol flit through my mind already. I think it’s more an association feeling. Thursday is a day where I would more than likely drink. Thursday mornings in my flat tend to be fraught and stressful. Getting two kids ready, myself ready, breakfasts , teeth brushing, bed making, battle appeasing, dragging a brush through knotted hair accompanied by the sound akin to someone being disembowelled – oh it’s a joy! This morning however, was calm and easy I even quite enjoyed the detox tea so why think about drinking. Is it the habit and association as I said? Thursdays are also the day we go to my folks for dinner. Now I love my mum and dad but history aside I can find myself shall we say ” on edge” with them particularly my mum.
17:10- On way to pick up kids and after a long day and equally long and highly irritating meeting at work I am on my way to get the kids. My true instinct right now is for a large glass of vino which I could quite happily neck in one go, douse my mouth in gold spot and collect kids riddled with guilt but I’m not. I’m going to focus on the craving, why I feel it, what are the circumstances and what could I do to try and change the pattern or take my mind off it. Grrr..
21:57- so we are back from dinner at mum and dads. Now where this came from god only knows but I spontaneously burst into tears at the dinner table. Luckily the kids were dismembering each other in the back bedroom so I didn’t have to explain to them why mummy was now an emotional wreck. Ok I was stressed namely because of endlessly trying to sort out Beelzebub’s up and coming birthday Shenanigans which was proving nothing but intensely annoying. Who’s coming? No I don’t speak to her anymore. But you were best friends on Tuesday. No I hate her now. But she’s already said yes. I don’t want her there but can she come to lunch tomorrow…. Give me strength!!! So with all that and my own work related stresses, the dismembering, the deaf mum, the diabetic dad looking like he’s shooting up in the background and the incessant high pitched ear piercing bark of the ball of wool next to me there was only one thing I needed and wanted. ALCOHOL!!! I knew I wasn’t going to get it and I felt sad, angry, disappointed and strangely addicted which resulted in an overflow of internal weeping to an external waterfall of woe. So there it was. I could either lie and try to cover up what I was feeling or come clean.
‘Oh dear what’s wrong?’ I held my breathe, hesitated, opened my mouth and said…
‘I am abstaining from alcohol for April because I … Because… I… I am drinking too much and it concerns me and I need to try and change the habit before the habit changes me.’
‘Oh dear! You’re a strong person. You can do it. Just see how you go and take a day at a time. 30 days is great and then maybe try to really moderate ( there’s that word) it and drink only with others socially. You know you’ve always got us here.’ All this followed with a cuddle.
Were those really the words of my mother. Where were the exclaims of disappointment, the gasps of dismay, the tuts of anger or judgemental shakes of the head?
Support! Understanding! Kindness! Unconditional love! Now I really was crying. After my first proper test I have come through. Talking helped. Honesty helped. I can do this however, maybe it has a hold on me stronger than I’d care to admit to. For now it’s an early night and dream of sheep.