If there is one thing I have learnt over the last year, is that my resentments stew.
My resentments stew into a big, hot, boiling mess of infection that soon link up with other, unrelated resentments to make one big pussy mess of my emotions and make any attempt to resolve the issues like an adult almost impossible.
I now know that if I don’t work on the resentment as soon as it arises, I will drink over it. I will drink to resolve the issue that I should could approach as a clear headed adult if I gave myself the opportunity to do so.
I found myself drinking over small issues, such as dishes in the sink when I want to cook, when really I was drinking because of larger issues that I was too afraid to confront and attempt to resolve. All because of my drinking and the secrecy surrounding it – and the shame. A vicious, vicious circle that only spirals downwards – quite often at an alarming rate such as days. Then, I would find myself in a huge argument with The Boy over something small, which although we would ‘make up’ there was always a feeling of issues unresolved, of nothing being achieved, of still spiralling down out of control – it was like I had stopped mid flight, paused and started travelling forward, however, still dangerously close to the ground.
Isabella also found this with work – she would stew on issues, become disenchanted, stressed or start doubting her abilities, so she would go for a walk at lunch, planning which cafe she could go to for lunch … with a sav blanc. Or three. Isabella always made it back to work within the hour – purse lighter, craving abated and a bigger worry to focus on – could anyone smell the wine on her? Is she slurring? How was she going to get through the rest of the afternoon without craving more – or wanting to sleep? What mistakes would she make that she will have to rectify?
So resentments can be the death of the alcoholic. Literally.