The Elephant In The Room

Here, dear readers, is the big one. The thing that makes me most ashamed. The issue I hide, refuse to discuss and avoid at all costs.

Alcohol.

I have an anxious mind. It is born of deep insecurity - the belief that I am not worthy of love and that any love I find would very easily be taken away or wooed by some other, more deserving, woman. It is the kind of mind that would have me obsessing prior to the play opening on Wednesday that on my way to my car from the show I would catch the kinda-ex boyfriend with some other girl in Midtown. Now, I have no reason to believe that I would catch him in that position. He has never given me any indication that there was anyone else. And I know, in the logical part of my mind, that another woman (or even the idea of other women) is not the cause of this break up. But my mind, the inner voice that has turned against me after years of being told no one else will love me, is not satisfied until it whips me into a self-loathing frenzy. I even considered leaving the play after Act I to see if it would be true. Yes, I know, ridiculous. (I didn't leave early for the record). It is this voice that told me that I didn't deserve more than the love I was getting in my marriage. That I didn't deserve a man who was giving with his love.

It is this voice that I strive to shut the fuck up.

For the past four years or so my drinking has increased. Not always - there are fits and spurts. But as a trend there has been an increase. I drank in my marriage to avoid facing the fact that it was not fulfilling. That I didn't love my husband as a life partner but as a friend (I'm sorry if you're reading this). I drank to make myself feel pretty. As my self-esteem sank lower and lower I drank to function in social situations. I didn't think I was interesting enough without alcohol. I quit drinking for 3 months at one point and I remember worrying that people wouldn't like me as much sober. My husband, bless him, tried to assure me he liked me better sober.

This all crystalized itself to me last week. Last week I vowed not to drink because the drinking itself was making me feel awful about myself and as you can see, dear reader, I do a pretty good job of that on my own. So, last week I sat with my thoughts, my doubts, my ravine of pain that I didn't think I could escape. Sober. And it hurt. I hurt more last week than I have ever hurt in my life. Every fear, every doubt, every hurt I have ever suffered resurfaced to say hi. But I faced all of them by myself. And, eventually, tentatively began to climb out of that ravine.

My friend came on Thursday and all that work was blown. She made me uncomfortable as I was just getting used to sitting with my pain and didn't want company. I drank to make the situation bearable. Not as much as usual, dear reader, but I did drink on Thursday and Friday at lunch (after I asked her to leave). I did not drink Friday night - I faced the chance of seeing the ex-boyfriend dead sober. (and yes, that was beyond difficult).

I am not saying that I will never drink again. Just that I'm going to try to listen to my own, inner voice (not the mean one), and determine whether I'm drinking to escape or for simple recreation.

So, dear reader, that is the big secret. I have to admit that I'm scared what some of you will think of me. But it's truth and I'm trying to deal in truth and not the evil fantasy world I've concocted to punish myself. (of course those of you that know me well have probably guessed this secret, but laying it bare myself is somehow different).

So, dear reader - take care of yourself. I'll be taking care of me.