So tired of always pretending. Of putting on my brave face and push through. Of not showing how terribly depressed and glum I feel. So tired of just surviving, not living. Of feeling SO much shame and guilt. Of waking up in the wolfs hour and feel him gnawing away at my soul. So tired of that gut wrenching feeling when you read all the Facebookmessages you wrote in the middle of your midnight blackout. Of always being afraid of getting caught. Of ignoring the horrible hangovers and go to work/do the laundry/pick up the children/help them with homework/cook dinner/be clever/be funny/be loving all while I secretly think it would be better for all of them if I just disappeared. That’s what wine did to me in the end, it took away my will to live.
The thing is though, that this pretending, this enormous need to appear being able to do it all? That came before the wine (the booze made it worse, oh SO much worse, but still) and that’s what I need to change if I want to remain sober. I need to start being honest. Finding out who I am and then stop being so ashamed of that person.
This is how I present myself you see, and it’s mostly lies.
- Gave birth to four kids during a period of six years – NO BIGGIE, EASY-PEASY
- Went back to university when the baby was two – ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS PLAN AND MAKE LISTS, NO WORRIES
- Started my own company when four of my kids were under the age of ten – THERE’S ALWAYS THE HOURS BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND FIVE, NO PROBLEMS
- I’m married to a Very Important Publisher so all of a sudden this feminist (me) ended up being the primary caretaker of children, washing, cooking and house. And to top it up? I got a Great Dane from said V.I.P as a birthday gift and now I need to care for a loving, drooling beast as well. But you know? – NO BIGGIE. SURE I’LL BABYSIT YOUR SNOTTY KIDS AS WELL, NO PROBS
- I’m skinnier now than when I was 20 – OH NO EFFORT, THAT’S JUST HOW MY BODY WORKS, OH NO I NEVER DIET OR EXERCISE
- My father died when I was four, my mother re-married two years later and guess what happened? Yes, he died in a car accident after a year – AMAZING HOW IT HASN’T EFFECTED ME AT ALL, I WAS SO LITTLE I CAN BARELY REMEMBER A THING
I sound absolutely obnoxious. Why do I feel the need to just BRING IT ON, I CAN TAKE IT ALL. Maybe I can’t? Maybe I’m really overwhelmed? Maybe being responsible for two tiny children and feeling all alone in a strange city and working in a very competitive sector of media was more than I could handle? And that’s when I started having a quite troublesome relationship with wine. After my second son was born only 17 months after my first one I ended up with post partum depression, but no-one knew. I thought that this was just how life was supposed to be now. The crying, the panic attacks, the anxiety. And then came the chablis/chardonnay/chartreuse (no, I never had that liqueur, just got carried away with the alliteration …) and it did help. For a while.
More tomorrow, must apparently read some bedtime stories immediately.