It could almost be deemed comical with the vast number of rewrites I have replaced the original of this over the years. It always comes after a heavy weekend or a failed suicide attempt but usually both combined. Then I’ll backtrack and won’t feel the need to voice my opinions. More than usual I would have hit the bottle again, and for a sweet short while, all would be fine. Until it happens. Until it is rewritten again.
You see, I don’t have a problem with alcohol, not one that can be defined, or medicated, or even talked through in group therapy. I haven’t got an addiction, nor a dependency, therefore it is largely unspoken about. It isn’t even until I reach rock bottom that I, myself, even address it. I promise to stop, I realise my mistakes, then Friday hits and I am at it all over again. It is considered so socially acceptable, to get absolutely shit faced, hit the bottle and call ‘the man’ for a gram or two. Some people can drink and all it costs them is a slight dent in the bank account, a sleepless Saturday night and a severe headache Sunday morning. When I drink a sadness comes up that is harboured deep inside of me. I drink to the point where I have begged to be sectioned. ‘I’m unwell. I’m unwell’. I cry. It all gets too much. To the point I beg timelessly to be sectioned, as I can no longer stand the points of sadness in which my inebriated brain has taken me. Depending on the stress of that day, a suicide attempt might be on the cards too. My subconscious kicks in or someone is there to sway me back round but never do I ever address it. Never have I considered the stress it puts on those closest to me, I am too wrapped up in my own self destruction to see the damage my drinking has on those I love the most. I am oblivious, to me it has become normality that I don't even consider the pain it puts other people in. Every single time it happens I get told we all act out a little when we are drunk. We all have little blips. But do these blips last thirteen years? It is only now, only losing the person I love most in this world I’ve realised all the harm the drinking is doing. That one sip. That one drink. Is one too many.
I decided I was ‘serious’ about sobriety on my 27th birthday. I was in Paris. Where the majority of my idols were dead and buried at this age. We’ve been bought up to idolise overdoses, drinking to the point of black out. It is normalised. Live life fast, there is no longevity in it. Only in the moment. Only in the present. Only in now. So what harm does the drink do? My money was lost and gone, along with most of the contents of my bag. My boyfriend had a black eye and I was stepping out in front of speeding cars. Alcohol wasn’t fun anymore. We decided when we got home we would try to go sober, try it for a few weeks. Try it for a month. Did it happen? I won’t state the obvious…
Recently I moved back to London, this in itself has been challenging enough. I rely heavily on my family for mental health support. Some would say too much. I refuse to grow up. My sleepy safe haven in Sussex allowed heavily for that. Though I am back now, I am addressing it. Leaving my love of the countryside. Yes, London has its ‘parks’ but you will always come across another soul and it is usually conjoined by tower blocks that I would love in a JD Ballard novel. But not here. I need to find solitude in silence. Not only that but I had to leave my dog behind, he is 57 miles away. My boyfriend also is 120 miles away. I see him for seconds and snippets every other weekend. This in itself is a battle. So my support network is somewhat down in the lonely realms of the big smoke. I escape almost all the time but when I stay, I drink myself to excess.
Recently I moved back to London, this in itself has been challenging enough. I rely heavily on my family for mental health support. Some would say too much. I refuse to grow up. My sleepy safe haven in Sussex allowed heavily for that. Though I am back now, I am addressing it. Leaving my love of the countryside. Yes, London has its ‘parks’ but you will always come across another soul and it is usually conjoined by tower blocks that I would love in a JD Ballard novel. But not here. I need to find solitude in silence. Not only that but I had to leave my dog behind, he is 57 miles away. My boyfriend also is 120 miles away. I see him for seconds and snippets every other weekend. This in itself is a battle. So my support network is somewhat down in the lonely realms of the big smoke. I escape almost all the time but when I stay, I drink myself to excess.
I had another ‘blip’ lately. I’m so ashamed of it I can’t bring myself to open up about it. It did cost me someone I love dearly. Someone I fear I will never get back. This faced me with the harsh realities of myself. This time I am serious. This time it is enough. So I attended a meeting. Finally I didn’t feel ashamed and alone, I finally feel like I am in a place where I can get through this. I don’t think I will ever be able to have a drink again. Some say I will be able to but I don’t want to be bought back into a place of darkness ever again. A place where I am not strong enough to face my problems but only increase them with a bottle. I am sick of seeing people I love destroyed by it. I am sick of myself being destroyed by it. Yet still I ask myself. Why is this so acceptable? Why are so many people destroying themselves and not seeing the real problem here? Ignoring it for the sake of a sip? So I am only seven days sober and I am very much at the beginning of my journey but for the first time in my life this is something I am sticking to. For myself. For a better life.