Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a magical kingdom in a land far, far away. She lived an enchanted life and was envied by many, far and wide. Eventually she met a dashing prince who met all of the princess’ needs and they fell deeply in love. After a spectacular marriage, they moved into a glamorous palace, and focused on starting a family. The royal couple was graced with two precious, perfect babies and they all lived happily ever after.
Isn’t that how my life was supposed to end up? According to the fairy tales, I should be shouting orders from some tower somewhere to the peasants below while my two tow-headed toddlers played peacefully and quietly with their nanny in the room behind me. My prince should be home any minute now from his valiant job slaying dragons to tend to my every need and want.
WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?
My life is a far cry from a fairy tale which is hard for this perfectionist to publicly admit. (Oh, honey, that’s a whole other issue/blog post/therapy session.) But that leads me to the purpose of this blog. After 34 years, I woke up hungover and filled with regret, shame and guilt for the millionth time and had had enough. I was so fucking done with my own bullshit. Years of trying to fill voids and cope with feelings and deal with life by becoming addicted to food, booze and attention had finally brought me to my knees and forced me to accept the absolute disaster that my life had become as well as the empty shell of a woman I had become.
That was 108 days ago as of today. My journey to sobriety has been heartbreaking, enlightening and freeing and yet I’ve only just begun. This is my story.