I’ve been fine today, until now. Now I feel dreadful. My son is ill, and that always makes me feel depressed and low, trapped and worried. I’ve just been to the shops to get some easy supper, and I really wanted to buy some wine and drink it all. But I know I can’t, and I didn’t, particularly as I’d spoken to my son this morning, and had told him I wasn’t drinking.
But I so wanted to. And I want to now. I know I keep going over and over these early days, and I know I need to get through them; but this is the moment when it looks so bleak, and I wish I could numb it, not feel it.