Yesterday marks my second day this year that I missed posting on here.
My desire to post everyday is not because I feel that you would all miss me, or that your lives would be lacking without my musings, more it proves a dedication on my part and a desire to make a commitment.
I had returned to work after a one day absence from being ill. I found the working day very stressful. I got off my train home one stop early, in the city that educated both the boy and I as I was meeting him there to go to an exhibition.
We decided that the day would be a chance to indulge in some nostalgia and visit old haunts of ours. At the exhibition the boy was cornered by an enthusiastic visitor, and I left him to it as I knew I would not cope with making small talk to a stranger. Later I realised he had been making discrete ‘save me’ eyes at me.
We went to a relatively new pub that had a piece of the boy’s art work in it and we ran into some old friends of the boys. After a pint we left them to go to another of our old favourite pubs on our own.
There was a pool table and the boy wanted to play a game.
‘I can’t’ I said.
‘Why not?’ asked the boy.
Because I can’t play pool, because people will watch and laugh at me for being bad, because I tend to keep my moments of public humiliation to a minimum.
The boy basically begged me to indulge him in a game, so I relented. We played. I made my shots as quick as possible to end the game sooner, with the boy forcing me to slow down and concentrate and when I did my shots could pass as being good. Not one single person laughed.
We sat down and had a chat. We talk all the time, but usually we are on our laptops, or watching TV, or walking to a destination. We don’t get many opportunities to look in each others eyes and reveal our deepest thoughts.
I had become more relaxed with the alcohol, but also more emotional. As I spoke about how little I like myself, why I can’t forgive myself a small tear would trail down my cheek. The boy told me all my good points, counselled me, made me feel better.
I lightened up. I congratulated the alcohol.
‘I feel much more relaxed when I’m drinking,’ I said ‘I should drink everyday’
‘I’m going to say one word to you’ said the boy.
‘Mother?’ I asked
One of my favourite songs is A Design For Life by Manic Street Preachers. The line that haunts me most in that song is ‘We don’t talk about love, we only want to get drunk’
I used to not drink. You could call it being straight edged. I did it because I was utterly convinced that with my mental health being what it was, my childhood traumas and my inability to cope with life it was inevitable that I would be an alcoholic, so I may as well skip through to the not being able to drink stage of life.
I do drink now. I enjoy drinking. But I am scared when I become ‘better’ with alcohol that I will pick up on this and then become my mother.
I am too scared to ‘let go’