- By girly-d
- On 20/11/2017
- 1 comments
They say that we all have a "Guardian Angel".
Someone with our best interests at heart, "watching our back", ready to step in and fight our corner the minute that things start to get tricky.
Except that when I was drinking, I didn't need a Guardian Angel. I needed a full time carer. Preferably one who didn't sleep and who was happy to work 25 hours a day, 8 days a week.
Because keeping me safe back then was literally a full time job. No room for error, or the consequences could be ( and often were) catastrophic.
How I am not dead I have no idea - I really, honestly should be.
I had no boundaries when I was drinking. Anyone could and often did, take advantage of me.
I just didn't learn.
I couldn't see the danger I was in or the intentions of the people who were surrounding me.
I only saw bars or off-licences, take-outs and hand-outs - that usually came with some lastminute.com conditions attached that I had seemingly overlooked and agreed to...because I hadn't read the small print.
I tested my Guardian Angel to the absolute limit.
And she came good every single time.
She saved me from serious harm more times than I care to remember.
She broke my falls when I tripped, fell or was pushed ( which was a lot back then) and tried to make sure that I didn't break too many parts of myself.
She created miraculous interventions and diversions that alerted me to danger even in my sad and drunken state, which sobered me up, bought me some valuable time and allowed me to get the fuck out of dodge.
Now I'm not a religious person, but in all honesty, looking back at those times, there was definitely a force much greater than my sad drunken self, protecting me during those horrible dark days.
Because my Guardian Angel was attached to me like velcro - Babysitting my out of control ass day in and day out. Never complaining. Never missing her cue. Never once letting me down.
So this is for her.
Wherever she is now.
Because I haven't seen her for a while.
Twelve months to be exact. When my last "lucky escape" drove me to check myself into detox.
I doubt that she'll miss me.
She's probably kicking back and enjoying a normal 40 hour week, now that she's looking after someone else. Hopefully a real actual child this time.
Not a lost, bewildered woman carrying the world on her shoulders who just gave up being a grown up and acted like one for a while...