Today has offered no improvement from the days spent so far in this dreadful place. In fact, today has been the worst so far.
As I wrote in my last post, I am in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, many, many miles from home to attend today’s wedding reception, as well as ‘enjoying the area.’ I have cried twice since I arrived here, I have eaten and sincerely regretted it and today I felt belittled and attacked by my boyfriend’s mother.
As much as I fought the idea, this afternoon I attended the reception. I grabbed the opportunity to get dressed up and wear makeup, as I rarely get the occasion to and I put a fake smile on my face.
When I got there I felt unbelievably awkward. I sat on my own, drinking a soft drink and feeling too shy to mingle. One woman was kind enough to come and sit with me for a while and we had a nice chat. However, everyone bar me was filling up on an endless supply of champagne and within half an hour it felt unbearable. I felt so uncomfortable. The alcoholic voice in my head very nearly convinced me to sneak a glass and pretend it was cordial, thinking no one would notice the difference.
And then things got much, much worse.
Jules’ (my boyfriend’s) mum asked me if I would be attending the party this evening and I explained that I wasn’t exactly enjoying being surrounded by alcohol (I chose not to add the part about not wanting to eat a meal with everyone). And so she launched into an attack. She exclaimed that I should be ‘strong enough by now’ to handle a drinking atmosphere and I should not cut myself off from social situations ‘just because’ I have a drinking problem. She said that it was pointless to ‘come all this way’ just to stay indoors. She essentially insinuated that I am rude.
She seems to be avoiding the fact that I have joined in with every activity so far; even going out to lunch and not eating anything (which she also thought was rude). Up until today, I have put on a brave face and tolerated all of the alcohol around me.
She asked me why being around alcohol is such a problem and I tried to explain that- at times- I find it incredibly and dangerously triggering, and it is just not worth risking a relapse because if I drink, I will most likely end up dead.
And then she asked me why, and so I showed her the scars on my wrists from when I tried to kill myself when I was 21. And you know what she did? She TUTTED and walked away.
I can tolerate all kinds of insults, but insulting my recovery- which I have worked so hard for- is just out of order and I will not stand for it. The whole reason I fell out with my grandma before she died was because she called me weak and that I should ‘grow up’ and drink like a normal person. If that conversation had not happened then I would have been able to say goodbye to her before she died, and that is a tragic and heart-breaking fact.
Jules then found me outside and I cried on him, before giving up and going back to the house we are staying in. I felt defeated.
I had called my best friend before in hope that she could bring me back down to earth, which she did (briefly) but I was so lonely going back to the house.
I called my parents when I got back and my dad managed to talk some sense into me and advised me not to go back to the party and to soon travel back to them, as opposed to where I live now when I get out of here.
For a short while I was able to switch off and watch Netflix but then the internet went down and I was left with nothing to do, bar writing this. And so I was left alone with my thoughts and tears.
I wrote that part last night. Jules did come back from the party and check on me every half an hour, but by the time bedtime arrived we had had a fall out surrounding my negativity about everything.
Today we all went to a winery to have a picnic. Of course, I couldn’t join in with the picnic or the drinking and so I spent all afternoon sitting on my own, smoking like a chimney in hope of calming my depression.
Fortunately, I will be out of this hell hole in three days.