Saying it out loud and admitting it to myself for the first time was the moment I began to heal. It was my breakthrough moment that I’d been both searching for and running away from so desperately.

I can no longer care for my disabled child full-time. I do not want to go backwards and continue to struggle on. I need more help and am fully prepared for everything to change. This is the problem. This is my truth. I don’t care what people think anymore. I am not afraid of being perceived as weak or a neglectful or unwilling mother anymore. I can not continue on the way things were. I am not fighting to get that back. I love Sonny. I want to love and care for him but I need more help.

I wrote this^^ on the 28th August last year. I’d just come home from hospital after a week on the psychiatric ward after attempting suicide. I truly believed I’d had that breakthrough moment. It was incredibly painful to come to terms with the fact that I felt I could no longer manage to care for Sonny as his full-time parent. It was a notion that I could not even begin to think about until the decision was taken out of my hands. He had been removed from my care a few weeks earlier after another relapse. A relapse that happened just before the summer holidays. School holidays have always been my biggest trigger. Looking after my lovely boy day after day is daunting. Now I had a toddler too.

Sonny had been living with his Dad for 4 weeks when I attempted suicide. I found it impossible to accept. The shame and guilt were overwhelming and I was desperate to get him back. Still in total denial. After hitting rock bottom and de-toxing in hospital it finally dawned on me. Why am I fighting this? 

Once I said it out loud, to myself, to Rob and to my home nurse, I felt such a release. I admitted I couldn’t cope. That things needed to change and the world hadn’t exploded.

My point in going over this is that I believed I’d discovered why I kept relapsing. I believed that I was cured. That I was over the worst of it. I had got through this terribly traumatic time. Sonny was living with his father and everything was amicable. Most importantly, Sonny was happy and settled and I felt like I could breathe for the first time in many, many years.

I was so wrong. I got complacent. Yes, my life became less stressful and I worked through some major issues but I will never be cured. I need to be as obsessed with my recovery as I have been with feeding my addictions. I have so much still to learn.



Here we are today though. And today is a good day because I am sober.


2 thoughts on “Complacency

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