Snakes and ladders.....
- By girly-d
- On 24/02/2018
- 0 comments
"Single to 'X' please.......Oh, and I'd like to add the "melt-down" option too if possible? Full-on would be great, thanks...."
I finish talking to the self-service machine, take my ticket and bags the first available seat. Within seconds I'm in floods.
Thankfully the carriage is almost empty. The only other passenger is busy talking to himself while staring intently at his can of Special Brew, and so I can melt-down to my hearts content.....he's not going to give two shits about my mental state I'm guessing.
I guess right.
He eyes me briefly with suspicion as I take my seat across from him, and then goes back to memorising whatever useful information is on the can, leaving me to cry my eyes out in peace.
Because I'm really not in the mood for making small talk right now. With anyone. But especially not him. I'm all alcohol'd out right now.
And I'm not being judgemental. A year ago I was in his shoes. But a lot of water has passed under my bridge since then, and today I don't have the time or the energy to worry about a strangers life choices when I can't get a grip on my own.
I'm an absolute mess.
My boyfriend had a relapse and it's fucked me in the head. It's fucked us both to be fair but it's seriously done a number on my sanity. Three weeks of constant watching and worrying about him has sent me into a tailspin, and now everything that I thought was going right is going wrong.
I'm worrying about him, I'm worrying about me....I'm worrying about simply getting back to my caravan right now. I'm in no fit state to be sat on a train. A million and one thoughts are racing around, vying for attention in my head, and I just can't listen to them all at the same time. It's impossible....So I don't even try. I reach for my earphones and drown them all out with Ed Sheeran instead.
I turn away as the ticket inspector approaches. I don't want to look like a lost, deranged woman who may need consoling.....even though I am, and I do...I keep my shit together until he passes, get off the train and head for the exit.
A bus ride and what seems like an eternity later and my key is in the door. I change out of my clothes and immediately curl into a ball on the bed......where four years of complete head-fuck and pent-up emotion comes flooding out.
My marriage break-up. The caravan with Bear. Putting him to sleep and hammering the final nail into my own coffin in the process. Me, turning into an absolute alcoholic wrecking ball. Starting to mix with other alcoholic wrecking balls....The horrible men. The damage they caused. The damage I caused......hospital, detox, rehab, hostel life......cry, cry, fucking cry.....I literally can't stop.
It goes on forever. I'm exhausted. My chest hurts from the sheer weight of emotion pressing down on me right now.... because I've finally realised that I've learned nothing.
Mainly, because, the minute that I'm well enough to stand on my own two feet again, what's the first thing I do??
Go scampering back to bedlam is what I do.
Because I've fallen in love with an alcoholic.....
Which means, that in the game of "Recovery Snakes and ladders" I lose.
It doesn't matter how high I've climbed to better myself so far...if he's not on the same page and climbing those ladders with me, then my recovery is affected. If I stay with this guy while he's drinking then there are no more ladders for me to climb....I won't have it in me. So every square from here-on-in becomes a snake.
You can't climb snakes....