I never thought a stock image (thank you, Pexels) could represent what goes on in my head on a daily basis, but this pretty much sums it up.
Unfortunately, putting down the drink is just a small portion of my overall recovery. Drinking was a symptom of a problem, not the problem itself (though obviously it became one).
The real problem? My head.
My head tells me that no matter what I do, it isn’t enough. I’m not enough. For as long as I can remember I have put myself under enormous pressure to do more, better, faster, stronger…
(Who’s got Daft Punk in there heads RIGHT NOW? Right? Pausing for a dance break….)
And I’m back.
As I was saying, my head has never been happy with what my body does (or looks like) and that hasn’t really stopped. Yet.
I take a certain amount of comfort in knowing that this seems to be a problem many former drinkers share. The comfort is that they seem to have been able to turn off the giant neon sign in their heads that tells them to WORK. HARDER.
Or at least, the sign is less of a harsh neon command and more of a nice soft white 60W bulb suggestion: Work harder, maybe? Or not.
I used to short circuit my neon light with a bottle of vodka, but the bloody thing always turned itself back on. Then other things started to short circuit and that’s how I ended up in rehab.
The reality is there are only so many hours in the day, and I can only spend a fraction of them in productive work. I know this logically, but my logical brain is not in the driver’s seat at the moment. Addict brain is, and it’s got its fingers in its ears and is going LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU REALITY YOU DON’T EXIST LALALLALALAAAAAAAAAA…
So I’ve been pushing myself to tidy, blog and go to meetings and I’m finding it all a bit too much…but I can’t seem to accept that it is too much. Instead I decided 11pm was a good time for a cup of coffee so that I could write and then tend to my computer for an hour.
I am desperate to get my life sorted IMMEDIATELY. That would be nice. Irrational, but nice!
I will sort myself out, but it will take much longer than what my addict brain wants it to.
I have no choice but to accept this unless I want to live in a state of perpetual frustration/exhaustion.
I just don’t know how.
Reality, you are such a bitch and I want to punch you in the face.
Moppy’s Addict Brain