Last week people whose blog I read, suddenly fell of the sobriety path and it has left me scared. Warning up front: this is another one of those post that is not pretty. And not edited. I have 3 edited versions in my concepts. Back to not editing. 🙂 Please note: this is not about persons falling of the wagon, it is about me. But again, it is not pretty and again is a mix of 3 subjects that are strangely connected or connected strangely. Not offended if you skip. 🙂
One good thing up front: people do get up again – and that is really nice. 🙂 It is also a new concept in my life. 🙂
But I was not there, in the mode to have hope again yet. Being confronted with the trouble that alcohol can cause scared me. Again, this is not a blog about pointing fingers, it is about my reaction to the idea that it is in fact possible to fall of the wagon.
I got scared, scared of alcohol, scared on how hard I had to work for this and how easy it is to lose what I’ve got. I am trying to fit into my head that it is actually possible to get alcohol at almost any time of the day that I am awake. Only not between 2 and 8 at night, and even then. This feels real strange because I build this big wall around me to keep me safe and I suddenly realised it is not safe.
My mother got breast cancer when I was 11 or 12. She did do the surgery but not any of the treatments and started a diet. This was about 35 years ago. Nobody thought she would make it. I felt the same fear as I do now; the doom of something very important that might be taken away. I felt responsible for keeping her on her diet, making a scene if she had a coffee or aah, sugar…. Well, that is how old that fixation is. I feel I am doing that again; making a scene, ranting in other people’s blog lines. Sorry people, if you feel I am ranting in your blog line. 😦
This ‘I need to be sober’ has settled in the part of my brain that thinks that I will die if I am not sober. That is true, in the long run I guess, but it is also dangerous for now. When I breathe, relax and feel what is going on, before I get to a happy place, I go through a pull towards destruction. ‘Just get it all over with, who cares, certainly you don’t, now do you? Just jump, or you could just fall over, nobody would know.’
Things have changed because this is my answer now: ‘Well, I do care. That is why it all hurts. Because it hurts I know that I care and I don’t see why you would speak to me like that.’ (New 🙂 )
I am wondering what the system is behind that voice in my head, telling me not to care, telling me to drink, telling me to end my life. Why? What is that? The continuous berating myself, telling me I am worthless. And why again and again am I carrying pain of loss that is not my loss? I did not fall of the wagon. I do not need to be scared to the extend that I am. I should be warned. Being warned makes sense. Being scared shitless does not make sense. It is another one of those wires in my head going wrong: a blogger falls of the wagon and I am scared because I think I lose people. The feeling of loss directly connects to my mother. And the feeling of mother ‘not there’ makes me feel useless and worthless, immediately.
My mother was so ill, tired and depressed at the time she got cancer, and after, that I felt I was ‘too much’ and that she could not deal with us and rather not had me around. Parents don’t need to say anything like that, kids just feel it because they are wired to sense care. But it was in all here actions. Not answering when we asked things, sighing before she finally did. Snapping at me. Not wanting to talk, not wanting to do fun stuff with us.
There were so many things I could not comprehend; like she was too tired to walk up the stairs and give us a good night kiss. I kept on asking and asking and asking and in the end she would get irritated and snap and I would feel stupid and useless and worthless. And angry. Angry because she is a mother and a mother SHOULD care! Looking back I was like that cat that keeps harassing you for being fed or patted. And that is the only analogy I can give you because I do not have children.
Sorry mom, I did not know, everything was so unsafe, I was so scared.
I was scared for myself and scared for her too. Well, at that age that is still one big scare. Inside I knew that she had given up. I asked her, years later. She said had; she only lived because she did not die.
I remember the days she came from hospital as the moment where I really got fixated on the lying that people do. She kept on saying that she was not going to die but she did not believe it herself. Nobody did. She had a very advanced stage of cancer of a very aggressive type. My brother and I worked out that if she was lying, she must be going to die, one of these days. Did we speak about this? Of course not; it was already a big taboo to let my mother know that we knew we were being lied to.
We were 11 and 13 and knew shit about cancer so every day I came home from school at lunchtime I thought I could find her death on the floor. And even when they told us that was not the case I still did not believe them because the tension in the house was so big that it MUST BE TRUE!
My parents had marital problems and my father was so nice to express these directly (!) after my mother got out of her anesthesia from removing a breast. Telling her that if she wanted to divorce she could have it. Here I did do some editing. My mother did not kill him. She only hated him for most of the 25 years they still had together.
My father has Aspergers. Nobody knew that then.
So worth, self-worth. If my mother does not get of the couch to kiss me goodnight she does not love me and that is life threatening and I can only conclude that I am worthless. If a person whose blog I read and find solace in falls of the wagon or has problems that is (life) threatening to me. My brains go: ‘Bad!! Danger!! Save!! Now!! Don’t let go.’ I’m sorry if I monopolised your bloglines. I feel so clumsy. Sorry.
Not happy. But happy that I quit otherwise I would have never written this down and not have been aware of how much my mothers disease is connected to my self-worth. And how illness of anybody is DIRECTLY life threatening to me. And how I incorrectly wire things in my head. It was an awful time. I am big in interfering with other people’s lives, always have been. Never knew why the urge was so big, now I get an inkling… 😦
This blog post took me about 10 hours to write. I started yesterday and have a few drafts of it. Those were edited too much. If I edit the not nice parts away I can not get to the truth. Drinking to me is like editing the not nice parts away.
This is the first post I am afraid of putting out here. Here it goes.