That’s what friends are for

Today a dear friend posted something on Facebook. I imagine that, because she knows me so well, she had me in mind when she posted it but couldn’t bring herself to tag me in it because that would basically be like saying to the world that I need to sort my shit out, and, if you’re like me, or the woman in this documentary, all that results in is flippant remarks, sarcasm or denial.

Haha, don’t be silly. I don’t need help. I’m no where near the stage where this is a problem – tis what you would say to people if they confronted you about it. I come from a culture of drinkers. A family of drinkers, with an alcoholic in the family.

Do you know how hard that is to write now? When shit hit the fan with my sister it wasn’t hard to write about at all. In fact it was easy blaming her and almost feeling pleased that it was her and not me and that I would never ever get to that stage where drinking wine in the middle of the day in the car while my kids played in the park was something that would even cross my mind.

And it hasn’t. Drinking in the middle of the day holds absolutely no appeal whatsoever – unless of course its a Sunday and hot as the bloody Sahara dessert and there happens to be an ice cold beer in the fridge.

But it is harder to confront within myself now because back then I was pregnant and breastfeeding and not drinking. It was easy not to drink when I absolutely had to. But now I’m pretty much Mrs D in this video (or rather, who she was three years ago), minus the vomiting in the toilet and dancing round the living room by myself at midnight on a Wednesday night.

Each to their own. I drink, and instead of dancing, I order shit off the internet and pledge money to save the polar bears, or rescue dogs from Afghanistan, or pay a thousand pounds to get obscure artists to sing at universities, or start a bidding war for a really horrible piece of artwork on trade me … … the list is quite extensive. No, really it is.

On the flip side, the drinking means I sleep well, but this is really irrelevant as I never had a problem sleeping before, its just that when you start drinking every night and then you try and stop, its hard to get to sleep. Although, I imagine this only lasts a few days. In fact I know so cause remember I stopped drinking once? For like 10 days. Lost 2kg, had a clear head and was feeling bloody fabulous – after the first three days of bitchiness.

I have a lot more to say on this topic. But I have written ‘this’ post many many times and never published it. I even started a secret blog twice but deleted it after the shame of not being able to last more than two or three days. I usually incorporated it with the whole fat and diet thing, trying to hide the that I knew the booze was the real problem.

But now, regardless of weight, it needs to be an issue I deal with for what it is, on its own, out in the sunny light of day. I also watched that video from start to finish. I was crying in shame and utter hatred at myself after about the first two minutes. I would say I am not alone in this. She was brave going out on national TV and ruining the image she had of being a highly organized, mother of three who had it all together.

Had it all together until 5pm each night when she’d get the wine on – dance round the living room after the kids were in bed, and wake up with a hangover and shame that she’d been unable to go without the night before – again. And again. And again.

Despite the promises to her husband and to herself. (thats me talking there – god the amount of times I’ve made empty promises…)

I very rarely wake up with a hangover, but thats not because I’ve only had one glass the pervious night. Its years of building up to ‘handling’ large quantities. I still wake up with the shame and sometimes utter helplessness that I can’t stop.

Thank you to Mrs D for making this documentary and letting me know that I’m not alone – and more importantly that its not just a ‘couple of drinks’ every night, its a fuckin problem that is ruining my chances to be the best person and the best mother I can be.

And thank you to my lovely friend for sharing it. That my friend, I hope, was the final push I needed.

SDGH&QL

Right, I’m really going push ‘Publish’ now.

No, I am.

(deep breath, I think I can, I think can…)