Wow. What a weekend. But perhaps not as you might think. Wow did it suck.
The strange thing is that nothing bad actually happened. I just had this overwhelming feeling of sinking faster than I could swim. I had a great night on Friday. We had friends over for dinner and I genuinely enjoyed myself even though I was sober. I was starting to feel like I was making some progress.
Then Saturday dawned. The day of tears. It seemed that everything that happened caused me to spring a leak. I bumped my head. It didn’t hurt in the slightest but it made me cry for half an hour. Shaun broke my egg cup and holy hell! He might as well have killed one of the cats. I definitely prefer the tears to the bitchiness of last time, but bloody hell is it exhausting.
Saturday night was the hardest. By the time bed time rolled around I was so sapped of energy that I couldn’t function. I went to bed and had two good hours sleep before my phone rang. By the time I realised what was going on, it had stopped. I looked at the clock and it was midnight. The missed call was from a friend that never calls in the middle of the night so I thought I’d better check the message. Bad move. It was several of my friends calling to say what a great night out they were having and what a shame that I couldn’t come. Ouch. I lay awake hurting for a while.
I finally drifted off in time for the next message. This time it was a text giving me a blow by blow breakdown of the night. The texting continued until the coupe de grace some time between 3 and 4am, which was a photo of them with my brother drinking my signature drink. Now on an average day, I’d see that for how they meant it. They wished I was there and were trying to make me feel included. But that’s not how it felt at the time.
I lay awake for the rest of the night crying and feeling hurt and sorry for myself.
I had to cancel lunch with them yesterday because I was too fragile to talk about it without getting emotional.
I guess the thing that I’m finding hardest about all of this is other people’s reactions. I know it sucks that I can’t drink. I know my friends miss me. I know I’m just not the same being the only sober one at the party, but hell, I don’t need to be reminded. How about the fact that I’m at least making an effort to go?
Sensitivity people. Please. I’m a walking tear bomb.