This is one of my biggest issues . In my turning to the light, lack of vodka and nicotine spliced life that from the outside looks clean and newbornesque, I find myself feeling like I am grieving for the loss of the old me.
I miss the fun me, the confident me, the joke telling me, the “oh my god did you really just say that” me. I miss the ability to feel confident enough to bluff my way through things. I was the rebel. I was the drinking, smoking, don’t give a fuck one.
Now, that me is buried in a sea of shame, and is sentenced to death, without the possibility of parole, never to return. And that’s OK. She really was on the road to destruction anyway.
But I know that people reacted better to the not quite drunk me. They were more relaxed around me. They laughed with me. I laughed with them. I didn’t have the Wednesday Addams face that emerges at the slightest utterance of a lack of brain cells, or bigotism (I know that’s not a real word but I like it), or falsehoods, or bullying. The very loud conversations in my head that speak way too quickly for me to repeat, but somehow are understandable in my head are publicly silenced with a medicinal vodka.
To be laid bare, sober and honest is not something that I yet feel confident in unleashing on the world. That me has been learning to find its feet whilst in lockdown and thank the gods, the family have been brilliant. But there are still times when a cloud of anxiety falls heavy around me and I feel unable to interact properly. I can see the kids faces look at me in disappointment, and my husband not quite understanding where I am coming from, and so I reel back into isolation. The dry me has also shown its face tentatively to a small group of friends. You can definitely find out very quickly who are real friends in this situation. I think it’s a 50/50 so far.
I am also sure that, this emergence of an old and tired butterfly from its nicotine and alcohol soaked chrysalis is exceedingly fucking boring!! Who is happy to listen to an old bat constantly licking her anxiety wounds? It’s not like this pandemic we find ourself in is easy on anyone. In fact, this is probably the most testing time in most of our lifetimes. We have been lucky enough as a band of generations not to have suffered a war. We have not had to wake up to blitz ridden homes, or chemical weapon bombings, or horrendous violation of our freedoms through an arse wipe of a dictator. It’s just a lockdown – to keep us safe from the invisible Covid 19. I am in a fabulous house, with my husband and kids, with food, media, and heating.
So what is my problem? I think that whilst life is seemingly ok, there are still issues that I am not feeling great about. I don’t want to go into too many details yet, but I am at an impasse with someone close within the family. This is causing many issues, but mostly it is causing a changing of the goal posts of our future journey as a family. This is a major emotional problem for me because, as I have found out through many hours of CT, this is what my dad did to me for most of my life. A Svengali of sorts really. I seem to be in a continuous spiral of controls that are out of my control. (Or is it that I am attracting this situation? Am I creating the situation as opposed to finding myself in it?)
I feel so claustrophobic because I am being controlled from all angles. Don’t get me wrong. I could just walk away. In fact, we could just walk away. But we have devoted our lives to this place and job. I have worked here since I was 22, Graham since he left school. We have striven to provide for our family as much as we could. We decided to put both girls through private education. I do not regret it one bit. That’s what I was working for – to help provide opportunities and options for the girls. There was absolutely no way that we would pass on the business to the girls. We have had to sacrifice so much as a family to run this business. But now our future financial security is being threatened and I don’t know what to do.
To refer to the original quote, my bad parts that I once managed to hide with my vodka soaked comfort blanket are now all out there for all to see and fear. I am no longer accepting being spoken to like a child. I am answering back. I am questioning lies and demanding proof of misquotes and misfacts. Will this change with time? Am I just playing with my new feistyness?
But I am also questioning my ability to now do my job. Said person has already put doubt of my ability out there. Am I strong enough to fight back and prove my worth? Is there a time limit for everyones sympathy and patience whilst I heal and become stronger? Do I deserve to be able to move forward whilst embracing my bad parts?
Will you still fall in love with me?
The small life of a mini mum 