This post is unapologetically me, triggering and sweary, sorry not sorry.

If you’re striving for something you believe you’re not, it hurts and it’s probably counterproductive. I didn’t think I was good. I got really ill and was broken down to nothing, so every effort I made to do better, with encouragement from some key people meant, that I could prove to myself that I was enough. When I settled into the feeling that I am enough, I started to care & know what it felt like to let myself be cared for, have space and time and be nurtured. From this base, I was able to learn more about what I’m capable of and what I’m responsible for, what I can change or impact in my little life and the big wide world.

Having recovered. The main cause of self-sabotage removed, (other than a chronically dysfunctional family)  yaaaaaas bithces,  I’ve been sober for over a year. I’ve gotten so much done! That in itself is a big chunk of talking. I don’t want to say I am an alcoholic because I feel it makes light of those who have a bigger struggle than I did. It was about escaping and losing control. I didn’t want to associate with being an alcoholic in the same way I didn’t want to be seen as a victim. My experiences growing up, saying  -it wasn’t THAT bad. How many survivors do that? A lot. We always think someone else has it worse so we should just be grateful and get on with life. I was wrong. I have a very big story about this. It comes out in short bursts when I’m talking with friends, but this is how it comes into play now.

While doing some jobs around town, my head grumbling around this idea and the next task, walking home in the grey December wet I saw the amber traffic light and stepped out into the road on a crossing. There’s always a few seconds to dart over before it turns red. My shoe stomped stopped rigid in the tarmac as a car slowed and honked. A hot flash of FUUUUCK jolted up my body. The driver gesticulating, me pulling the most “whatever, up your’s” face my face can. Shame prickling the back of my neck. I never usually tempt the red figure. If there are young people and children especially I wait till it’s green, even when I was a kid there was this link with been seen to do the “right thing” when there was someone there to see it.

I raged all the way home. What a prick. Speeding off the roundabout like that. AND flailing their hands at me. When their light wasn’t green….not when I started crossing. It was amber! It was amber, erk. It wasn’t my fault, they were in the wrong. I didn’t tell anyone about it, and that felt like an old shame, the fear of someone calling me stupid and that I was wrong…..that I could have endangered my life. For the next few hours, this went round in my head. I felt angry and right and stupid, and what if it hit me. Round and round in my head, building up more bile everytime I thought about it. Angrier and more ashamed. Another old feeling, an old friend walked parrel in all these thoughts, “So you do want to die! you can’t hide it, I’m still here, look at you trying to be all good .”  Fuck off old friend, not today, that’s not what it was, you and all your intrusive mates can do one, I didn’t just step out into traffic to avoid life. So maybe I’m a slightly alcoholic, slightly suicidal, previous victim of a short list of things, it’s totally debatable to me and myself. What I know above all is that I own my shit, I get the whole responsibility thing even when I get it wrong.

I was so angry with the driver and myself and life, right up until I told myself, I was wrong. The weight of the anger at a stranger, the self-loathing at being that silly. It all melted away. I actually breathed a sigh of relief. I made a mistake, it could have been so much worse and I’m thankful it turned out how it did and I’m grateful that I can understand that I was wrong. So many times in the past within intricate experiences and relationships I was wrong.

It is so easy to hate yourself, to avoid risk and over correct or just opt out in order to not risk being wrong. I lived a life with no opinion because I  never wanted to be wrong or to upset someone or have someone think I was wrong. So I kinda did nothing, I just followed and slipped into the roles and spaces others made for me. Which sucks thinking about it but it’s easy, safe, the same, predictable and I could keep on loathing myself. New year new me isn’t something I promote,  because it is often close-knit with diet culture which I haven’t got time for and won’t knowingly promote. As a general rule, I believe you are enough.

depression Health mental health newyears responsibility