- By girly-d
- On 17/10/2017
- 0 comments
I have too much time on my hands.
Or maybe not enough. I'm writing constantly. But as fast as I finish one blog, another one appears, just waiting in the wings...The next in line to be called forward.
There is so much stuff in my head right now that my mind is a battlefield. Each new topic is trying to grab my attention by shouting louder than the last. I can't think straight.
So far I've had eleven hours of it....
I wrote about it recently. The article was published in a magazine.
It's called "Emotional Flooding". When the Pandoras box in your mind gets opened and all of the evils in the world come rushing out. So I know what I'm talking about and why it is happening now. For me it's happening now because finally I'm sober. All of this stuff in my head couldn't be dealt with while I was drinking. Because this stuff in my head was what drove me to drinking....
Things that have lain dormant for years are now slowly creeping into my mind. Like the scene out of "Thriller" where all of the bodies come alive in the graveyard. My train of thought is interrupted constantly by some long forgotten late-comer to this spontaneous house party in my head.
It's pretty traumatic.
Self-medication is no longer an option. I rarely take even an aspirin these days. It's been almost a year since I attempted any form of drowning out my thoughts with alcohol or drugs....prescription or otherwise and so all that i'm left with is processing. Which for me right now involves writing down all of this stuff as quickly as I can in order to get it out of my head and onto the page.
Because finally it all makes sense.
Hour upon hour of listening to my thoughts going around and around whilst I attempt to put them into some kind of order has led to me to this. And after all of these years of trying to understand what makes me tick, I finally know for the first time what brings me to my knees.
My lack of self-worth and my fear of abandonment.
It started at six with the death of my dad. Followed swiftly by my mum washing her hands of me too. Neither of them meant it to happen. But it happened anyway, and I was pretty much left to fend for myself.
So I thought that I was unloveable. That I was a bad kid. I tried not to care but from a very early age I was crushed. My priority was looking after my brother and trying to get through every day as best I could. But I was six trying to be a grown up and failing miserably. I couldn't reach the cooker without kneeling on a chair, let alone cook food on it. I was full of confusion, frustration and shame and I beat myself up on a daily basis as a punishment to myself for being so crap at it all.
I was in and out of hospital and psychiatric appointments. According to my mum I was a handful. I wasn't. I was a scared kid living in a volatile environment trying to protect myself and my brother as much as possible.
I self harmed and starved myself. It was the only control that I had at that time. My self esteem was on the floor. I craved affection but I was so desperate for it that I either scared people away with my neediness or I was used briefly and then cast aside. Swapped for someone more 'stable'.
Which made me hate myself even more....on and on and on it went. I toughened up. I rarely let anyone close to me.
But then I let my guard down. I married my best friend after twelve years of being in a relationship with him. Who promised me the earth. Who knew about my background and how much I craved stability. Who let me think I had it finally....but who then promptly ran off with some nameless floozy he met one weekend in Brighton.
And that was all it took to rock my world. My stable, longed for, lovingly built home that I had waited so long for came crashing down like a house of cards. He left without a backward glance. Taking my tiny shreds of self-worth and sanity with him.
It put me in hospital. Not that day granted. But it was the beginning of the end for me. Everything started to unravel. Slowly at first but then faster and faster, until finally, the fragile elastic band that was tentatively keeping me together all these years had reached breaking point....and I snapped.
Hospital helped me in a lot of ways. I needed to get sober. But I feel that a lifetime of me trying so hard to please and getting only knock backs and "no thank you's" in return has damaged me beyond repair.
I look like an adult and I talk like an adult. I work hard and I pay bills and I do adult stuff. But on the inside I'm 200% that lonely, lost and frightened little girl. Desperate for scraps of affection. Begging like a hungry dog and trying not to get kicked.
And I don't know how to fix that. It's soul destroying.