Today has been a wake up call. Not a huge massive resounding gong or anything.. more of a creeper.. but with a lot of thorns. Last night I relapsed which gave the Shitty Guilt Fairy massive pleasure and she did a complete rendition of the Riverdance on my head this morning.. it went on for hours. I learned some home truths from various corners of East and West Sussex and am still slowly waking up to the realisation that I am not who I thought I was and it’s time to toughen up.
It is a new day (like literally only 4 seconds old) and it’s time to re-saddle the horse and haul my hefty arse back on. Additionally, I have realised that my wagon isn’t faulty it’s just I keep vaulting over the side in a desperate bid for self destruction. Normally I’d be happy with any form of sporting prowess but it appears that Wagon Falling isn’t a bonafide sport and therefore the idea is to remain on board.
Finally, my higher self and I are about to have a bit of a conversation about loving oneself, not allowing oneself to be treated like a twat and how life sober really is a better option.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
So by far the nicest thing that has happened to me today occurred an hour or so ago. I, (very excitedly) decided that I was going to, not only have a bath but I was going to have a bath bomb in it and some 0% pink fizz to drink (Friexenet 0.0% – really lovely), with M&Ms in the light of a candle and then… wait for it…. I watched Bird Box in the bath!
Now for some, maybe this isn’t quite the rollercoaster ride you expect to either experience or hear from me… but if I am brutally honest.. it was so fucking nice that I can’t wait to do it again. In fact, if I wasn’t so bloody clean, I would go and do it again. I even used a Xmas gift of a body scrub from the EO. There was a bit of writhing in the water as I realised that it’s difficult to hide during scary bits when you are in the bath.. well at least not without deluging the whole sodding bathroom.. I forget that as a (slightly overweight) adult.. one quick move in the bath is like creating one’s own miniature fecking tsunami but aside from that.. not one M&M was dropped and the laptop didn’t explode from steam exposure.
I bounded out like an eager and overexcited puppy… declaring to the EO that I had such ‘ A LOVELY bath’ and then told her how many of her Xmas gifts I had used, so that she thought I was extra-amazing. She lounged on her bed, her phone practically stuck to her cheek in case it dared to leave her sight and I decided due to one’s amazingness that she ought to give me a back scratch so that she could earn having my presence in her room. Bramble (small witch kitten) lying on the wicker chair in the corner, opened an eye and looked at me with a really horrid expression. Like pure evil, she glared (with the one eye) as if to say ‘pathetic human, I don’t have to do any amateur dramatics to get massages and back scratches.. I simply exist’. I foresee another accidental kick off the bed tonight.
Other than that, today has been a good day. I paid an exorbitant amount to have the car cleaned badly, spent more than I would on alcohol on alcohol-free-pretend-alcohol so that I could pretend I was still drinking alcohol; did some boring HouseShit and caught up with one of my besties. I even printed ‘things’ for my leadership exam.. and put them in piles and then moved them about.. and did an impression of studying.
Who knows what excitement tomorrow could bring? (Well, I do actually, a 5 year old’s birthday party.. There is NO stopping me!)
2018 was undoubtedly one of the toughest years I have experienced as Adult Chloe. But aside from learning in depth about loss and fear, there is something that has come from it and which prepares me for 2019. A definite sense of self is forecast. As I itch and scratch and wish I could have a glass of wine, I remember the feelings last January as I became more adept at forgoing alcohol and as a result found my sober skip. This next year will hopefully see me qualify as a nurse and subsequently start a new career. The LO and MO will change schools and there will be a lot of transition to manage. Somewhere in the midst of this, I know that I need to nourish the broken Chloe, feed her some nutrients and watch as new shoots grow. In the last couple of months, there was a darkness that grew from the depths, like wispy smoky tendrils snaking around my ankles, steadily climbing and wrapping round my body, tight like an angry cloak. Impulsivity, anger, resentment, bitterness and an inability to ground left me drunken and craving for debauchery. Hedonism. And it’s strange, as the higher self looks on, almost in amusement, as she watches the unfurling of chaos. I picture her, leaning back against a wall, right leg bent and anchored, with her arms crossed. A wry smile worn on her face as she chews on a piece of wild grass held in her hand. Watching, waiting. She knew what would happen. We both did. It was the only way I would reset. Even the toxicity of the past few weeks has been a learning curve. I never knew I was susceptible to abuse. How the powers that be must have guffawed at that one. I am doing domestic violence for my dissertation and I stated to a few people in the last few months that I have never suffered from this type of abuse. And still I haven’t regarding the physical aspect of it but little did I know that via some random law of attraction, I literally opened the door to another form; emotional and mental abuse. I am lucky that I recognised this for what it was but there are some less fortunate. I am also fortunate that I have a good support system around me who also warned me early on that this behaviour was unwarranted and therefore manipulative. But it is strange how a sense of love can alter one’s perceptions. The pushing and pulling, like a dance, building up into a crescendo and as the wave crashes down, you realise that your body and mind are no longer joined, you have lost your sense. Lost your self.
Today, I felt a new strength. No longer did I want to play that game. Each time I felt a pang, I reminded myself of what I would say to a loved one, a friend. I am not perfect. I know this but equally I am not to be put down; lied to; manipulated or treated with contempt. A month was long enough. Long enough to remind me that no-one is exempt from this type of abuse, but equally it doesn’t take much to react. That there is, within each of us, a vulnerability that can give rise to bad behaviour. Reactive and angry. Thankfully, I have woken up, bruised from a bad dream but with the hope that out of this experience, new growth is born.