My Not So Secret Diary

Being A Better Me

Being A Better Me with my son Stanley Hatwell Sobriety blog by Claire Hatwell called My Not So Secret Diary, writing about sober living in Cornwall
In the days when I used to drink, my emotions seemed to verge on the extreme. I don’t mean at the beginning, when I was a ‘normal’ drinker, but certainly towards the end. I’m not sure how much of it was down to my anxiety, but I know alcohol didn’t make anything any better, it only ever made things worse and I was on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster.

For example, a disagreement would escalate into a full blown argument. I honestly didn’t realise how linked my temper was to wine. However, those disagreements used to happen often and they don’t anymore. Things that were funny would instead be hysterical and sadness was a tragedy. Any injustice - perceived or real was a targeted attack. I took things too literally and too personally. Oh and I repeated myself and forgot things a lot.

Looking back, everything seemed like a full scale escalation. It was so dramatic. I really don’t miss that drama. I know now that I am much more balanced. I still get upset or angry or any of the other emotions but they are more balanced. My reactions fit the occasion better. I seldom raise my voice. I tolerate other people irritating me, I might say something in retaliation, but only normally when I am pushed to a limit.

I took Stanley for a walk at the weekend to give Lee some space as he was working from home. Having a three year old constantly wanting to play with you gets a little distracting when you’re trying to focus. We took his bike and walked a fair way. He’s good on his bike, but not so good at staying out from under our feet. Normally I’m pretty aware, but as we were crossing a quiet road, he swerved, clipped my foot and had me over flat out on the road. Of course, he went down too and my first thought was to get us out of the road, before thinking about whether my sunglasses and phone had survived. (They had). The thing is, it really hurt, and although I know he didn’t mean it at all, it really hurt! And I felt a fool. The old me would probably have told him off, in a mixture of anger and embarrassment, and although I did tell him to be more careful, and that he’d hurt me, I stayed really calm. It would have been easy to blame or vent my frustration but it was far nicer to sit with him on my lap as I composed myself.

It’s taken a while, but it’s nice to feel back in control again. Calmer, and yes, better.

Take care and thanks as always for reading.
Claire x