I lay in bed this morning, thinking how I could start this post. But there is no way to start it, except to tell you the truth. I didn’t get past day 3, and today I’m back on day 1. It’s been a paranoid week of drinking, working, and trying to ignore what I am doing to myself. I have cocooned myself in a world where I can drink, and that is fine, and everything will be alright.
Everything is not alright. The last few days, I am OK in the day, going to work, looking after the family in the evening. But I secretly drank and drank, and no one knew – I hardly knew, in an odd way. It was as though I was someone completely different when I was sneaking the drinks in that way. It’s hard to explain.
I kept thinking to myself: things are out of control, I’ll start again tomorrow. At work yesterday, I became completely paranoid about a colleague, and confused everyone by being crazy about it – up until now, I think they have thought I’m a cheerful, positive person. But the drink has crept into my very bones, and made me mad.
I can’t tell my husband. I don’t want to draw him into my weird world; I want to get myself out of it. I know I have the strength to do this. A few weeks ago, when I went to meet Sober Mummy, I felt this incredible hope and I am hanging onto that feeling.
If you are reading, please be gentle with me. I need to write here, and I so value everyone who reads and comments here. But I am frightened as well.