Self pity


I have started to see a pattern in my depression, the mornings are worst. It seems to get better as the day passes and the most important seems to be to go out and meet the light. That usually helps a bit. Otherwise I feel like killing myself most days when I wake up.

Still struggling with the question “Why?” and starting to feel a debilitating guilt for all the sorrows and worry I have caused my loved ones. I don’t want to be me, don’t want to go on, don’t want to keep this life but have no other option. Some days the only reason for me to stay alive is because I feel an obligation to do so for my husband. Not wanting to live, but not being allowed to die… How sad is that for a life?!

So, I will get up, get out and struggle on for another day. Towards the evening things will feel easier and I will no longer feel quite so dreadful. I will go to bed, have a good night’s sleep and wake up to the anxiety and angst sitting on my chest making it almost painful to breathe again.

All I want to do is to scream at the top of my lungs, but I will be a quiet and good person. This too shall pass, and I will just take it one day at a time.

 

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It’s been a while since I wrote, not so much for not wanting to write as for feeling absolutely dreadful. Isn’t it ironic that I feel ever so much worse not drinking than I ever did drinking? I ache all over, my hormones are all over the place and I suffer from both anaemia and hypoglycaemia. The depression and the angst that has kicked in we shall not even begin talking about…

Why give up drinking when this is what sober feels like? I feel endlessly lonely and sad, but I know this is following a “normal” pattern. Still doesn’t make me feel any better. I don’t want to do this, don’t want to do anything to be honest. What I want to do is to curl up in a dark hole and never come out again. I feel worthless…

I’m working my first step and my sponsor has asked me to write a page on how alcohol has made my life unmanageable. This is harder than I would have thought.

I mean, when you read the first step “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.” it sounds quite obvious, of course we did or we wouldn’t have gone to AA in the first place. But then, to sit down and actually put it down in writing, all the horrid things that happen to you – or rather all the horrid things you, yourself, put yourself through when you’ve been drinking – the pieces of the puzzle falls together and you’re struck with remorse and fear.

I did this to myself. No one forced me, no one did this to me.

I’m not sure what’s worse – admitting my faults to myself or to my sponsor. I’ve always fought so hard to uphold a nice and flawless façade and now I have to shatter it. Clearly I realise that people have seen through this for a long time, but still it’s a struggle.

My work is about caring for people and those I care for most of the time has been granted the gift of living almost completely in the moment due to their affliction. They suffer from various kind of forgetfulness – some from Alzheimer ’s disease and some from other forms of dementia but all of them live here and now.

Sure, they remember the far past, and sure they sometimes worry about tomorrow, but for the most they are content in the moment and it’s a rare treasure to be allowed to share this way of life. I’m trying very hard to learn from them how to do this.

The point is, that most of my life I have been trying to avoid living in the true moment. I have been creating a make belief reality of today, been desperately attempting to forget about it the next day whilst planning the next escape for tomorrow. A most exhausting way to be!

I think the lesson to be learnt is written out quite clearly for us in the serenity prayer, but it’s a matter of trying to let go. At least I have such an enormous need for control – maybe because I feel I’m losing the grip of my own life so often. Possibly the losing the grip is a way of controlling my environment in a way too – by losing control I force the people around me to take it. Not a nice thought for someone who takes a pride in being empathic and caring.

I’m still struggling with the higher power bit. Partly I doubt that I would be such an important figure that a possible higher power would bother with me when he/she/it didn’t bother saving those kids on Utöya the other day.

I mean, why should he/she/it? I’m a pretty rotten individual once I swap into civilian clothes, even though I am an excellent professional – if I may say so myself. Without trying to wallow in self pity I’m a lousy friend, a rotten wife and a bad daughter and sister. Hopefully I will learn to get better at these things as I learn to live in the true moment. I really would love to be a decent human being – not just a good one, but a decent one.

They say I should pray but it feels as if though there is a lead lid on top of my head blocking my link to the higher power. The lid is thick by the guilt I feel for being a bad person. I feel I don’t deserve the love of a higher power. Don’t really feel I deserve the love of anyone, to be honest, and almost doubt the sanity of those who claim to love me. Can’t be right, can it?

Anyway, tomorrow I will really try to communicate my surrender to the higher power. If my poor long suffering Husband can love me, then maybe an all forgiving God(dess) can too. It is after all considered human to err but divine to forgive…

I’ll give it a try and report back on it later 🙂

May God/Goddess/Higher Power/Great Spaghetti Monster strike you down with with impotence, baldness, bad breath and life long flatulence to bring you into hiding from the world and let the rest of us get on with our lives in peace.

I don’t care what you call your God/Goddess/Higher Power or political figure head. It is of absolutely NO importance to me what so ever whether you are white, black, red, blue or fecking pink with turquoise dots – if you’re a fanatic you are NOT welcome at my table!

I am sick and tired of being forced to live in fear, sick and tired of you feeling that it is your god given right to terrorise me and others.

Just bugger off!

My thoughts this evening is with the people of Norway. They have suffered a terrible blow and I remember vividly what it felt like living first in London – with the fear of terrorist threats there – and how it felt living through the (fortunately failed) bombing of Stockholm in the middle of the Christmas shopping last year.

Maybe I should head to town and find myself a fanatic to feed some industrial strength laxatives and watch them suffer… I’m just very, very PISSED OFF right now!

It’s been quiet from me this week since I’ve had a friend staying for five days. In some ways I’ve enjoyed the week – like when I’ve been playing the Little Tourist in my own city and actually seen and done things you never really get round to when you live somewhere – but it’s also been a stressful week I could have used for things like spending time with my poor long suffering Husband, or just going to meetings and doing some soul searching. At the end of the day, visit is over today, chappie is going home and I’m fairly grateful for it.

So, to the topic of this post; Pride and Prejudice.
I have a rather dark side to my soul, one I don’t often show to people, which I’m not proud of and I do try to work on it. It’s deeply rooted, but the willingness is there so bear with me.

I’m a snob.

There, I’ve said it. It’s probably more difficult to admit to than admitting to being an alcoholic.

The amount, and variety, of prejudice I carry around is vast. Maybe one could start a twelve step program to rid me of them? “We admitted we were powerless over our prejudice”…

Chappie and I went on a Booze Cruise over to the little island of Åland (one of the few Duty Free zones left in Europe) on Tuesday and I had a revelation. First of all that I could, in fact, enjoy just the trip without hitting the bar for a tall cold one, and secondly that drunk people really are cringe worthy.

Now, the drunk people on these ferries are kind of the worst sort. You know, just the type I carry some of my worst prejudice against. Life has worked very hard at teaching me time after time that these people can be – and often are – the salt of the earth and that I am no better than they are, but the little daemon on my shoulder is still whispering that I need to hold onto my hand bag when passing through the crowd.

There was this woman who looked 80 if she was a day, though I suspect her age may have been closer to 60. Anyway, she walked around in a skirt so short you saw frightening amounts of her stick thin legs which were carrying up a barrel like upper body – the typical body of an ageing female alcoholic. Her hair was long, with a raven black home dye, and teased into oblivion. We shan’t start to mention the state of her husband, but let’s just say he was wearing a cowboy hat in patent leather…

Then there was the family group with friends. The family was having “Gran” in tow and she was doing her very best to embarrass her son… No doubt this lady is perfectly sane and decent when sober, but drunk she was a disgrace! She was whispering things – which were clearly embarrassing – in her daughter in law’s ear and flirting shamelessly with her son’s friend. The family looked as if though they wanted to sink through the floor (sorry, decking!).

There were the people dragging home six cases of beer. We’re talking six 24 can cases here!

All this I watched with sober, and judging eyes, preferring to forget the sort of embarrassment I have caused my own family and the disgrace I have made of myself. Talk about being prejudice!

The fact is that all these people could easily have been me! But that is something I don’t even want to dwell on!

I’m proud of that I didn’t have a drink, though. Proud that I managed to take this trip and enjoy every minute of the picturesque town of Mariehamn sober. It really was lovely and I will take Husband with me there one of these weeks, just to have a splendid meal – sans the booze!

Yesterday I managed to get caught in torrential rain as I was waiting for the bus. It took me about two minutes to get soaked to the bones and for the first time since I gave up the sauce I really wanted a drink. I wanted it so badly I could have sold my left foot for one but being in Sweden – where the state operated booze monopoly closes at 19:00 sharp on weekdays – there were none to be got unless I went to a bar somewhere and there wasn’t enough cash in my purse to get me well and truly sloshed.

I spent the twenty minutes I had waiting for the bus trying to count my blessings. How lucky I was that the rain arrived just then, when I couldn’t get to a boozer, how fortunate that I got soaked and had the pleasure of experiencing the urge when it was reasonably “safe”. Did it work? Did I feel less pissed off? Not one bit! I suppose I still have to work on this “serenity to accept the things I cannot change” malarkey…

Really, that is a very good view on life, to calmly accept things that can’t be changed rather than getting all worked up about it and either having a bevy or a stroke – or both! However, I find just that very hard to cope with. Maybe it’s got to do with my need for control, which is funny since I have no control over alcohol what so ever. The last few months have showed me at least that. The struggle goes on…

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