My past is just that, the past. I no longer spend so much time sitting in my bed thinking of the horrible, cringe worthy, shitty (so. very. shitty) things I did while I drowned out my demons. It wasn’t until recently and with the help of my very best friend that I actually found a tiny glimpse of peace with it. See, the things I had done I never felt any guilt for. I didn’t feel that guilt for most of the things I had done until years later while in the process of repairing myself. Yes, I am a very kind person sober. Drunk Lyndsi, oh boy, not so much. High Lyndsi? She was friendly, wayyy too “friendly.”And drunk Lyndsi, she was around more often than not.
Its kind of ironic ya know, I watched my mom be the “drunk” everywhere we went and I swore I would never be that mom. Yet, as soon as she died from cirrhosis of the liver my first thought was to wash down my pain with anything I could get my hands on. Kind of makes you wonder what kind of demons my mother was fighting on her own? Guess I’ll never truly know.
Funny how things work. When you you finally put in the work to dig yourself out of the hell you put yourself in, you see yourself as a whole different person. The things or person you were before now make your stomach sick. The very thought of being the person I am today doing these things rocked me to my core.
For months I struggled with “why” why on earth did I have to do these things to my family. The only people in the entire world who stood beside me through failed rehab attempts, stupid embarrassing drunk nights and down right unpleasant come downs from whatever I was using the night before. I dragged them through hell with me and still they loved me.
That’s unconditional love y’all, and I finally realize that. For so long I was mourning the loss of my mother’s unconditional love that I pushed away every attempt of unconditional love my little family so willingly tried to shower me in. My husband just wanted me better, he wanted his wife back. And he fought like hell to get me back while I fought like hell to stay in the comfortable numb place I had buried myself in.
It gets a little easier every day, but I always have to put in the work. I have to push myself to make better choices than the day before. Getting better doesn’t just happen over night, it comes in phases and I’m glad to say the phase of dwelling on my past has nearly ended.