Wednesday, 8 April 2015

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

Yesterday was Day 37. We were a couple of hours into the 14 hour drive from the Swiss Alps back to London. The sky was a cobalt blue, and the waters of Lake Geneva were glistening in the sunshine. #1 was listening to one of her favourite songs (by 5 Seconds of Summer) for the third time.

As we sang along to the lyrics, she was probably thinking about some hot pre-pubescent boy in Year 8. But I was vividly reminded of my relationship with Chablis.

"I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted.
I thought about our last kiss, how it felt, the way you tasted....

....sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?
If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all."

And it struck me that ditching alcohol - at the grand old age of 46, is much like breaking up with the unsuitable first love at the age of nineteen.

Do you remember all those horribly raw emotions? You weep buckets. You think you're never going to be happy again. You sob on the shoulder of any friend who'll put up with you, truly believing that no-one has ever felt heartache like you do.

He is constantly on your mind, and everything seems to remind you of him: places you went to together, mutual friends, shared interests. Evenings are spent playing songs that you listened to together, poring over old photos and replaying the relationship in your head endlessly.

Was he really so bad? Perhaps, after this break, with time to reflect, you can 're-invent' the relationship - make it perfect. There was so much that was good, wasn't there?

Life is monochrome without him, and it will never, ever be technicolour again.

"I wish that I could wake up with amnesia,
and forget about the stupid little things.
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you,
and the memories I never can escape.

'Cause I'm not fine at all."

And that is exactly how I feel. I wish that I could wake up with amnesia, and skip out this grieving process. I feel scarily like my nineteen year old self - possibly because that was the last time I really felt emotion properly, without all the edges blurred off. I'm not fine at all.

But what I have to remember is that now I see that boy I sobbed over for what he was: a terrible mistake, who would have carried on making me miserable again and again. And if I'd let myself see him just once, on his best behaviour - if we'd had had just one kiss for old time's sake - I would have been sunk. I would have forgotten all the bad stuff, and leapt right back in. All the heartache would have been for nothing.

It wasn't my destiny. He wasn't my soul mate. It was just 5 seconds of summer.

If you fancy indulging yourself, here's the link: 5 Seconds of Summer: Amnesia

Love to you all SM x

(For more about connecting with the inner teenager read Sober in Switzerland)

9 comments:

  1. SM, that is my way of looking at alcohol. Breaking up with a boy (Michael was his name, handsome as can be) I was besotted, he was a rotter but he had this charm, charisma, a light if you will. When he was shining his light on me, I felt like the best girl in the world, everything was more intense, better, beautiful. Only trouble was the light burned bright and burned out quickly.

    I was heartbroken. However, it taught me some valuable lessons about giving in too quickly, forgetting myself and my friends, family, hobbies etc. which all took a back seat for him. I have never allowed myself to be swept away like that again until I was sure it was worth it.

    I recently found out he is overweight, struggling in his career, twice divorced and a chaser of young ladies.

    Sometimes when tempted I call alcohol "Michael" and it is a quick turn off.

    Glad you had a lovely time. You are not the girl your husband married and he is most probably not the man you married either. People change and wih luck we improve, overcome our challenges and become better people as a result.

    Enjoy the rest of the holidays. xx

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  2. You are so wise! I'm going to adopt 'Michael'!
    Xxx

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  3. Oh my, your post and Laura's comment open up just all kinds of ideas on quitting the wine witch. Or should I now refer to it as my ex-husband, aka Satan? That was such a rotten relationship that I tried everything to fix. I am not a quitter never have been and I tried so hard to make that marriage work. But it didn't. However, I like to think that if I learned only one thing from that past marriage was that my current husband is truly the man of my dreams and I am so grateful for him. And what parallels this has with drinking and trying to just walk away. This is a total "WOW" moment for me. Time to shrug off that bad relationship (alcohol), it was never healthy for me in the first place, I kept thinking I could fix (i.e. moderate) it. I couldn't. And it doesn't necessarily mean there is something wrong with me, that I wasn't good enough/smart enough to be able to fix it. It's not me. It's the alcohol, aka Satan (sorry, he was just such an evil person and he's seriously overweight too, on his third marriage and in a totally dead end kind of job). But after I finally, FINALLY walked away from Satan, life just got SO MUCH BETTER! holy cow. The best revenge is living well and that is so true. Wow, what a great post!!!

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  4. Oh dear 2 Emily's! Maybe I need a new name?!

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    1. I know!!! I thought about you when I posted but it wouldn't let me change how my name appears when I leave a comment. Maybe when I comment I can put in the comment this is the other Emily or something to differentiate me!

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    2. Hey, we can share names as well as vices! How cosy ;-) x

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  5. Dear SM,
    One reason I don't want to drink again is I know I'd have to break-up all over again.
    NOT FUN!
    You are doing great!
    xo
    Wendy

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