I am spiralling into a meltdown. Why, oh why is this so hard? I’ve had plenty of Day 2s, so I know the drill. But this time round, I felt that it was going to be different: I was more determined, more steely somehow. Well, that was yesterday, and that was this morning. And that was even about 2 hours ago. Now it’s going wrong.
I took the dog for a walk and went along the dappled path, a real place that inspired the title of this blog. It often calms me down, and it is a peaceful route. But my mind was going bonkers, round and round, in and out, debating with myself. I asked myself: why have I started this sober journey yet again, when I’m bound to fail? And why do I keep putting myself through this, with the fear of failure hanging over me? I set myself so many targets, write lists, make plans, and end up all knotted inside.
The dog trotted along (do dogs trot??), sniffing the bracken, unaware of my mental gymnastics. Now I’m at home. My daughter is carving a pumpkin, my son is playing football, my other daughter is reading: they too are unaware of my internal debates.
I tell you what I’m going to do now: I’m going to go and play the piano, sort out an errant pile of bills, make a pie for supper, concoct a mocktail (I enjoyed that yesterday). More plans, more lists, but crucial distractions.