Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

A wonderful friend of mine has been here this week helping me out.

She asked Felix if he thought mummy had changed at all since coming home from hospital.

I immediately stopped what I was doing because it had never occurred to me to ask him, and I desperately wanted to hear what the answer was.

Thank god he chose the correct answer and agreed I was less grouchy and more relaxed. Possibly he thought his pocket money depended on the answer he gave.

For a while I haven't felt any better, any different at all. Just weird, uncomfortable, out of place.

People tell me I look great.  That's nice to hear.

I look in the mirror and my skin looks clearer, less muddied.  That's nice to see.

I hang out with my kids and play board games.  I wouldn't have done that before. Board games? Are you kidding me?  I do stuff in the garden; just weeding but weeding is my zen, my state of peace. There is nothing but me and the weed and the dirt and the sun on my back or the wind in my hair.
 

Gettin' my zen on. Image from here

I do these things and I realise I am getting better.   That is rather wonderful to feel.

I am 50 days sober today.

That is freakin' awesome to know.

Home Is Where The Pizza Ordered By The Five-Year-Old Is

I decided to check myself out of the hospital yesterday morning, even after the MASSIVE panic attack I had over the AA meeting non-event and the subsequent suicidal ideation. I was alone in the room, with the door shut and the nurse not likely to come around for at least half an hour, and I started having plans...  The fuck???

But I pulled my shit together, I really did. I DID SOMETHING. I realised what was happening, realised it was BAD and I made a change to the situation I was in.  I opened the door, I put the lights up, and I decided I needed Milo from the patient kitchen.  My mood changed. The thoughts went. I calmed down. Lets all hear it for Milo! It potentially saved my life that night.

Packed with B Vitamins and the Will To Live

Despite the alluring option of staying another day and feeling worse because it was more time alone, I chose the Get Out Of Jail Free card.

I do feel strange. Strange to be home, strange to be out of the regulated environment. Strange to have new feelings come up because I am no longer squishing them down with the booze.

Strange to look at my kids with new, clearer, eyes.

Strange to realise that I cannot be left alone at the moment due to intense, out of the blue flashes of aforementioned suicidal thoughts.

The best thing about being home is that Felix decided that as a surprise for Mummy when she comes home, they should order take-out pizza from the store around the corner, because Mummy loves that and it is something everyone is happy with.

I'm sure the kids have changed in the last week. Or maybe I am seeing their behaviour with clear eyes and a clear head? 

Nah, a week ago Felix wouldn't have cared what anyone else wanted for dinner.It would be Macaroni Cheese with Bacon all the way.

Home. There is no place like it, and we'll take it one day at a time to see if that's a good thing or not.

Baby Steps

In 18 minutes in another part of this hospital, an AA Meeting will start. I decided 2 days ago that I would go, so I could get some ideas, some strategies for coping when I go home. Which most likely will be tomorrow.

In 15 minutes now the meeting will start and I am lying on my hospital bed, in an empty room, feeling sick to my stomach, with a racing heart and a devilishly strong desire to flee.

Hello, panic attack. Fancy seeing you here!

In 12 minutes the meeting will start. The meeting that everyone says is a must if you want to have the best chance of staying sober.

In 10 minutes the meeting will start and clearly I wont be attending.

I feel like I am letting myself and my family down, but I just.can't.do.it. 

In 4 minutes I will not attend AA. Despite how I feel right now, I think that's okay.

I've taken the biggest step.

Now its time for baby steps.

This baby step writes a blog post and has some meds and goes to sleep.

The meeting has been going 12 minutes, and I have not had to say "My name is Sharon and I am an alcoholic."


Because I said it here.

One Step Closer To Leaving

This post is part of the July Blog Carnival! Click on the image to view the list of participants for July
and read some damn fine blogging.

Detox Day Whatever*

Apathetic.

Anxious.

Writing furiously and prettily in my journal and have come to some conclusions:

I have had Panic Attacks my whole life.
I have had Anxiety my whole life.
I have had multiple epidodes of PTSD, none of which have been dealt with properly.

When I read my list of the consequences of my upbringing, I can feel the beginnings of a panic attack.

Fuck knows where to start on the mess thats is my mind.

These clouds looked like a good place to start.

The Clouds They Do Beckon 

*Edited to say: its actually 28 Days sober today.

Writing as Therapy Because There Is No Other Option

I've done therapy before. Lots.

Loottts and lots.

Surely somewhere along the way I have picked up some useful information and some of that information could be applied to my current detox hell, AND some of that information might actually have been retained in my alcohol-soaked and drug-addled brain.

Surely?

So I have a notebook and a packet of textas thanks to BFF visit. And a couch to sit on, as you saw earlier, which I find essential to the whole therapy process.

An hour and a half sitting on the couch sure did release a lot of crap out of my brain.

Shit.

Wandering The Corridors Of Recovery

Cant writer much, brain as fuzzy as this picture. Mostly anxious and angry.

"Being Nuts" Part the Third

In which the heroine discovers that the Detox Program she has signed herself into at great personal heartache and mental distress does not, I repeat does NOT have any psychotherapy/psychology/counselling/mental health worker chat type arrangement. At all. At.All.

UM...

WHAT THE FUCK???

Hospitality

Day 1 of detox started fine this morning, dropping the kids off to their respective institutions.  Fine fine fine until it was my turn to see the doctor and then I completely lost my shit. Which was, in fact, a good thing so there was no doubt about me getting admitted for being nuts.

I met a male nurse in emergency whose favourite comic song ever he found on YouTube recently. It was The Only Gay Eskimo, by Corky and the Juice Pigs. Who happened to contain my friend Phil. Small world, etc etc, today filled with singing of Gay Eskimos.  Who needed the Lorazepam that came immediately after?

 

Well me because soon I wasn't shaking with anxiety, but falling sideways on the gurney into lalaland.  That's OK.  Lalala is OK, when you are in a supported environment.

So far, a whole day in hospital and not a great deal has happened. A lot of lying on my bed, playing with my phone. Taking pills. Feeling lonely for a bit. The kids came in and had a visit long enough for me to read them a long story, and for Ella to tell me she wanted me to come home, Felix to get bored and to want to leave and for me to be glad that for a while I am away from the two precious creatures I need the most.

There are two old buggers in the room next door who clearly have been sharing for too long and are over each other, which provides some amusement. Apart from that Day 1 of Detox is all a bit...well...boring.

Cant even get something decent to get me to sleep. What is the point in this if I cant bloody sleep?

Come on Day 2. Show me something better! Let's get challenging.

Day 2:  More pills. An exciting*  *actually in no way exciting chat with Mental Health Team said done an amazing job, have incredible insight and strength yadda yadda. She has to report abuse to children mentioned in conversations to Families SA. Great. Adam needs to work on his anger management issues (NOOOOOO???) and we need to have family therapy with Felix. Ohhh. Well. Just...fan...tastic.

Social Worker who said she would definitely be back today at 12pm. We have seen no sight of her today and she has been given Orders, yes Orders by the senior nurse to get her arse up to me pronto in the a.m.

Doctor happy. That's nice for him. I am mostly bored, flicking through magazines and chatting to my neighbour in the room and watching her tv. Walked for a short walk to the meeting with the Mental Health Team and ended up almost on the floor. Walking round corners on the drugs not so good. Definitely lalalalalaboomph.

Ohhhhh Squeeeeee: Pretty sunset!!

Felix is on Yellow Circles Reading Level, so had to go to Mrs B's room to get the next level up (i.e. from year level 1) which is a big HUZZAH for him and his hard work and cleverness and all round brilliantness.

 

The Night Before The Future

Tonight I have told my 5 year old son that mummy has been sick and sad for a while because I was drinking too much wine, and that wasnt good for my body.  He asked me if I drank it because I liked it and I said "no, it was to help take my back pain away, but I drank too much and it made other parts of my body get sick." 

I explained that I would be going into hospital, probably tomorrow, and the doctors and nurses would look after me for a few days while my body got better, and my brain got better, so I could stop being sad and angry and be a better mummy for him and Ella.

Cue crying.

Cue tight hugs from Felix.

"Are you sad, Felix?"

Bottom lip trembling: "Yes, because I'll miss you."


I'll miss you too, my darling baby boy.

Sleep, Tarot Cards and the Future

On a sunny Saturday when you sleep until 10.30 because you took 4 Temazepam the night before and they actually worked so you miss either a) looking after your daughter while the boys go to the movies or b) miss going to the movies as a family, it makes for a great time to go visit your neighbour and have a cuppa and talk about how shit your life is and have your Tarot cards read.

I havent had mine read for 14 years, when the "Wheel of Fortune" card came up and the next day I got a call to go on the TV game show "Sale of the Century."

As a result, I believe in the power of the cards.

Well... It was all about personal power and strength and difficult decisions and what I am considering is the right thing to do and will be better for all in the long term, and it was all rather mind-blowing stuff.

So the cards say that I am on the right track with my instincts and once I get this shit sorted I will rule the world. 

It will be so much better for everyone that way.

"If I Am Not For Me, Then Who Is For Me?"

*Apparently a Jewish Proverb. I read that on Twitter today so it must be true, eh?

If I don't look out for myself, then who the hell else is going to?

The one who almost 8 years ago promised to "love honour and cherish, in sickness and in health blah-blah" is certainly not showing any signs of "being for me", looking out for me nor for supporting me in this, one of the hardest battles I have ever had to face.

And you've read the condensed version of my life's battles. There's been some corkers, hey?

Drinking alcohol in front of me with friends and joking about "now this is really rubbing it in": not supportive.  Screaming at me (in front of the kids) that I have no idea how much I am costing him personally: not supportive.  Making every day so stressful by the yelling - always the yelling - at the kids, that if I hear his voice once more I am going to fucking explode.  Not asking, not ever asking how I am feeling without the alcohol: Not.Fucking.Supportive.

So.

I am for me.

I cannot stand to be in my living room because the associations with alcohol are so strong. I cannot be in the kitchen at dinner time because my automatic response is to get a glass and go to the fridge. And then I remember..."Ohhh, DAMMIT!" I cannot cope with the constant noise and the demands and the yelling.

I want to be alone, so I can have the shakes and cry in private and not in front of my children. I want to be alone so I can hear my own thoughts. I want to be alone so I can feel something other than frustration with my children - because lets face it, boy (5) + girl (almost-3) = nightmare - and anger at my husband.

The only way I can see how to do this is to put my hand up and say "Help me! I can't do this alone anymore." To voluntarily go into hospital and do this with people who know what they are doing, who know how to get people through detox and who are not going to ignore my fairly obvious distress. I had my first panic attack since the birth of my daughter the other day, for no reason other than I was in my son's classroom and there were other adults there. The second was a day later in the car with MB, simply because I was with him.

I need rest. I need sleep. I need quiet so I can hear myself. If I cant hear my own thoughts, or if I cant even process information because of what my body is dealing with, all that happens is anxiety and panic.

If I cant hear myself, how can I help myself?



 If I cant help myself, how on earth am I going to be able to help these  two precious, beautiful children?


I am for me.

I am also for them.