Today I may be breaking one of my own rules: to only blog content that I feel serves a positive purpose. To only post uplifting stuff.
I’m struggling today. Not struggling with sobriety per se, just… struggling.
I cannot write when I feel depressed. I can’t find the words… but I’m going to try to push through the process.
After having been approached by a few old friends/ acquaintances for support and advice on sobriety recently, I was feeling pretty good about myself, like I was able to do something meaningful by listening to them and giving gentle suggestions about quitting booze etc. Now I feel like a fraud.
I am lying on my bed, looking out at the bright blue sky and intense sunshine. I can hear my children squealing and playing downstairs, having fun with their daddy, who is always solid as a rock, even though he went out drinking with friends last night (a rare occurrence- he rarely drinks now I’m sober).
So, I’m lying here on the bed, and it’s as if I have a black raincloud above me, raining just on me, invisible to everyone else. It started to chase me on Thursday, while I was out at a beautiful park with my beautiful daughter running around in front of me. Suddenly it was just there. An ugly cartoon-like cloud, dark and heavy, raining black, sticky tar onto my skin. I cannot seem to wash it off.
I didn’t go swimming with my family this morning, as I chose to spend 2 hours trying to pick songs for a recital I’m meant to be giving in a few months with a friend. This should have been fun “me time”, making time for singing, what used to be my career and dream- something I never find time to do these days. I spent lots of time trying out different songs, listening to new repertoire on YouTube.
Nothing was working for me. I felt disappointed and disillusioned…. like I’d wasted my time, and concerned I’ll be letting this friend down if I don’t pick music quickly. My family returned and I moped around while they made lunch, unable to pick what food to eat because I don’t feel like I have the energy to choose. I put some salad on a plate but then gave up eating it, ate a spoonful of peanut butter and came up here to bed to try to have a nap.
So, thanks for reading this total non-event of a post, detailing my current black mood.
I’ve been looking forward to the weekend all week.
But now I can’t be in the same room as my family.
Because I don’t want them to have to touch this black sticky tar all over my soul.