This is me. Take it or leave it.
But, when we quit drinking, we seem to spend an awful lot of time worrying about other people, which is why Alcoholics Anonymous is.... well, anonymous.
It's why we pretend to be on antibiotics, or beg to be the designated driver. It's why we spend hours on the internet hiding behind silly pseudonyms - like SoberMummy.
We worry that we'll be judged by our pasts: will they think I'm an 'alcoholic?' Will they assume I'm a terrible mother? Will they think I'm pathetic and weak, with no self control?
We worry that we'll be judged for our futures: will they think I'm boring? Will they think I'm judging them? Will they never invite me to a party again?
#1 is (very nearly) a teen. She's entering the maximum danger zone for fear of other people's thoughts.
Do you remember how awful it was, being a hormonally ravaged teenager, constantly second guessing, and reacting to, other people's judgements of you?
Now add Instagram, Facebook and all the other judge-me-and-my-life media into the mix.
How is she ever going to survive?
Recently she came home fretting about what one of the girls at school had said about her.
"Darling," I said, "You will never be happy if you worry too much about what people think of you."
*eye roll* from tween.
"Tell me something. Do you like her?"
"No!" She replies vehemently.
"Well then. Some people just don't get on. Nobody likes everybody. You've got lots of friends who really, really like you, just as you are. And you like them, just as they are. Don't fret about people who are nothing like you, and are never, ever going to be your best buddy."
"But," she says, "everybody wants to be popular."
"I'll let you into a secret," I said. "Who is the most popular girl in your class?"
"H," she replies.
"And who is the girl in your class who cares the least what other people think of her?"
She thinks for a moment, then says "H."
"It's not a co-incidence. You see, the less you worry about what other people think of you, the more they'll like you, and - more importantly - the happier you'll be. The only important question is do you like yourself?"
I was reminded of this conversation when the children and I drove to the country yesterday to see one of my oldest and best friends - K.
Our children all ran off to play, and we sat down, happily, to catch up on the months since we'd last met.
I started to tell her about my check up at the Breast Clinic and how worried I'd been.
She looked really uncomfortable. Shifty even.
"SM," she said, "I have to tell you something. I feel awful letting you tell me a story that I already know. You see, I've been reading your blog for the last three months."
(My fault. I'd told her that I'd raised a lot of money for The Haven breast cancer charity through a blog I'd been writing. That was enough information for her to hunt me down. Nosy cow. And I say that lovingly.)
I was totally stunned. I didn't know what to say. I sat there, waiting for the waves of panic to engulf me. For all those familiar worries to pipe up: will she think I'm a total lush/terrible mother/frightfully DULL?
And....nothing. Zip. I didn't care! If anything, it was a relief. (At least not until I realised that every anecdote I tried to tell over dinner she'd heard before).
And that, my friends, is progress.
Happy Friday to you all!
SM x
