Not as bad as Amy Winehouse is not good enough….

Posted: October 25, 2010 in Anxiety, Recovery, Relationship shit

I have not felt so much shame and self hatred for months.

This Sunday I actually felt mildly suicidal (not sure if any reader would understand what I mean about feeling mildly suicidal? I mean the thoughts of doing away with myself popped into my mind. Being mildly suicidal? Would you use a weak rope to hang yourself in the hope that it may break? Swallow half a bottle of Panado’s in lieu of sleeping pills? So you get to have the hospital visit and stomach pump and the whole suicide experience, but be nowhere near death?  I felt like I wanted to run away.  Like my happy it’s- all- good-I’m following-my-program-life bubble has burst and it’s all my own fault.

I am not sure if my feelings are my feelings around the situation or if I am feeling this way because of Porra’s reaction of anger and disappointment with me. No-one else is angry with me (I have checked all participants’ thoughts of course. DDD is an addiction counselor and says it wasn’t as bad to warrant Porra’s freak out reaction). In fact, the general consensus is that Porra is overreacting and I was allowed to let my hair down.

<This takes nothing away from the fact that I fecked up>

I derive plenty of my self esteem from feeling I am the stronger partner or “more sorted” than Porra and I am hugely on the back foot right now.

<The fact that I have got myself more financially sorted out than him is my main mental preening self esteem booster. It allows me to put myself up a peg or two in the hierarchy of our relationship>

Most Adult Children are also co-dependants which could explain my lower than shark shit feelings:

Definition of Codependence –  The condition or fact of being codependent; specifically, a) tendency to place the needs and wants of others first and to the exclusion of acknowledging one’s own, b) continued investment of self-esteem in the ability to control both oneself and others, c) anxiety and boundary distortions relating to intimacy and separation, d) difficulty expressing feelings, e) excessive worry how others may respond to one’s feelings, f) undue fear of being hurt and/or rejected by others, g) self-esteem dependent on approval by others, h) tendency to ignore own values and attempt to adhere to the values of others.

I’ve been blogging lately about having DDD (Daughter Dear’s Dad) here from rehab in Mozambique and how well it was going with Porra, DDD and I all living together fine.

I suppose the saying “spoke too soon” and “this too shall pass” comes to mind.

I have blogged before about my own past alcohol issues and how I used to binge drink on a regular basis before I found the Adult Child 12 step program 3 and a half years ago.

An ex boyfriend Hairy Hannes committed suicide 12 months ago which let me to have a one night bender. I could not ignore the fact that I personally used alcohol to deal with feelings.

Exactly a year nearly to the day of a last drunken boo-hoo-Hairy-Hannes-is-gone evening , I’ve messed up. I over did it drinking wine. I reverted back to how it was years ago before I became (in my eyes) a poster child for a working 12 step program.

I’m not proud of what happened. I wish I could change the course of events and not be so stupid and sip slowly and remember to keep to 2 glasses, but I can’t. I was on auto pilot and did not think.

If I am defined an alcoholic, I would have had what is called a relapse.

If I define myself as just a normal chick, I had too much champers at a social gathering. Not such a big deal.

I am torn between the two definitions of myself. Does a definition matter ?

I suppose not. I am feeling bad either way what I define myself as.

I thought I would not blog about this at all. But, if I am doing a true life blog, it’s got to be the good, bad and ugly. And this is the ugly.

Facebook is for the fake “my life is so glorious I could just wet my pants posts”, for posting only the best photos of a wonderful life (the photos in which I look pretty nice for a 40 year old). This isn’t that type of web based interaction for me. My good stuff goes on Facebook !

I also thought I would just not blog about it because some people involved in the social event may read this thus compounding my secret, latent shame.

<My shame won’t be a secret anymore. Sometimes my blog gets nearly 100 hits a day>

But ….. you know what. I am who I am. Warts and all.  I’m in recovery as an Adult Child. I’m not recovered finish and klaar.

I’ve made so much fecking progress in my life from being pushed out of home when I was 17 to now. I could be in some Thailand jail as a drug mule. A step backwards now and then has to be documented to be a recovery blog. Honesty online can be humiliating (I have wet eyes writing this).

 The short of it all is that we all went to a social evening at my friend’s house. Huge potential for good clean fun. I experience social anxiety on top of my usual daily anxiety and this often – in the past – caused me to throw alcohol down my throat far too quickly. Like a social lubricant experiment gone wrong.

The “funny” side of the medicating social anxiety with booze is that I usually want to impress or be liked and the pouring of strong alcohol – at such a fast pace – down my throat obviously does absolutely nothing to endear me to potential new people. It actually has the opposite effect. They are more likely not to like me if they are decent enough folk. So it really is a self defeating behavior that has only ever endeared me to drug addicts or alcoholics or other “partner-in-crime” types (“Hi, my name is John. I see you have had too much wine. Have you ever tried crack ? It will sober you up”).

Although I did over do it, please don’t get the picture that I vomited in a Eugenia pot plant or sat on the family cat who then suffered a broken bone and had to be rushed to the emergency 24 hour vet. I don’t feel I was that rat assed. I do recall leaving. I do recall falling asleep on the way home. I do recall Porra grumbling about women and wine. But not having a “black out” is not justification to myself that I did not over do it. I did. I take responsibility for that.

<Just because I am not as bad as Amy Winehouse doesn’t make it OK !>

Now……poor Porra……bless his cotton socks….has only met me post-12 steps. He doesn’t know the old Diddy that thought nothing of drinking two bottles of wine at a party and sleeping it off in the hosts’ bed or the back of a car. Or the Diddy that was on first name basis with a crowd of Nigerians and got discount for buying in bulk.

To him, this is an absolute unforgiveable state of affairs and to say he is milking my lapse of judgment is the understatement of the century in my opinion. I feel like Amy Winehouse in his eyes.

I hate feeling like he will leave me. Which is where my anxiety is coming from today I think. Mentally I know he isn’t going to leave me (because I asked !). I know he will forgive me. Eventually.

My anxiety levels are at a million percent today <on the bright side, I did want to lose a few centimeters and I’m off my food>

I would not have been surprised if he left me yesterday he was so fuming. I got a right talking to about what a horrible person I am before he zoomed off into the sunrise and never came back. I was dumped for the day post party. He was gnashing his teeth saying he doesn’t want to live like this (when it was a once off in 12 months).

Now…again in my defense and as an explanation of Porra’s anger and disgust….firstly as I mentioned, Porra only knows the new and improved Diddy and secondly, Porra’s ex wife is a suspected alcoholic which was a factor in their breakup. She used to not work and start drinking around lunchtime and be asleep an hour after Porra arrived home from work. He spent much of their marriage on his own in his study on the internet so the story goes.

I can see a lot of hurt and pain in his eyes which I suspect has nothing to do with me, but with the disappointment of his past life.

I suppose the next and most honest step for me is to figure out – once and for all – whether I am really an alcoholic or not and then follow the prescribed treatment if I am.  I am too confused by my emotions to know what I am.

Step 1. Admitted we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable.

Step 1 for Diddy. Perhaps a little on the extreme. Back to square one. Give up alcohol 100% and see if it’s a problem giving it up. If it’s an issue to give it up, there is something to worry about is my methodology.

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Comments
  1. reluctantmom says:

    Is there space for one more on your programme?

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