The closer I’m getting to leaving for rehab, the more I’m understanding what is important to me – and the more transparency is starting to mean to me. What’s the point if I go into this journey with NO accountability. I’m not doing myself any favours by hiding behind an anonymous gravatar and pseudonym.
Here we are.
In all our glorious happiness, 6 years ago. I’m the one that looks too happy, at the bottom right. Overly happy, because I was already pretty loaded by the time this pic was taken. Miraculously, one of my besties, an incredibly talented photographer, managed to snap this on the first shot – all 4 dogs were actually looking at the camera.
It’s my favourite photo of us. EVER. And, I just sent a copy of it for print, to take with me to rehab on Tuesday. Because…I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with being away. It’s giving me a sort of mental comfort knowing I can bring all 5 of them with me, somehow.
I really wish they had therapy dogs at rehab. Because, well, dogs.
We both look quite different now. I’m less puffy, and Hubs has way better hair, a beard, and now wears ball caps…it works. We both have a tonne more tattoos, we’ve moved, and we’ve changed.
Oh God, how we’ve changed.
I’ve changed more in the last 18 days than I care to count, much less the last 6 years.
Is it normal to miss those closest to you, before you even leave? Because that’s how I’m feeling right now. In all honesty, I’ve missed them for the last year, two years, and more. Even though I’ve been right here. Sort of.
I want to go barf a little.
Not for leaving, but for leaving that sort of happiness I see in this photo somewhere over the course of the last god-knows-how-many-years.
Even then – was I happy? Because I was still drunk in this photo.
At the rate I’ve been going – since this photo was taken, I’ve drank 4380 large bottles of wine.
6,570 LITRES OF FUCKING WINE.
$61,320 worth of wine.
In 6 years.
Hows that for transparency.
I want to go barf a lot.