So What’s My Problem?

See, I’d like to write a post about how magical this festive season and the run-up to Christmas is around here right now, but that wouldn’t be honest. I want to be the inspirational, zen and super positive blogger and project love, light and Christmas cheer.

Fuck that.

I’m in a shitty, shitty mood and I’m trying to figure out how to navigate this without biting people’s heads off. My mother was here earlier in the week and one evening I thought I was actually going to burst into tears. Why? Because of well meaning comments about how to raise my child. Gentle, thoughtful suggestions that threatened to turn me into a fire breathing dragon. Bambino’s with his dad until Boxing Day and whilst this in itself is a positive thing (unsurprisingly, I want my child to have an awesome relationship with his father), it leaves me feeling uneasy and anxious as my ex has an unpredictable temper and I know the tension Bambino feels having to be flawlessly perfect for the entirety of his stay as well as the psychological nightmare he’ll face if he fails to. I’ve had text messages from Bambino before asking me to come get him. Yesterday, I rang him in the morning just to hear his voice and make sure he’s OK. The Bonus Sons are here until later on today for a little pre-Christmas and whilst I love them to the moon and back, I’m often struck by how selfish and insensitive one in particular can be and although he means to be funny, the 10th time he commented about what an idiot Bambino is (who isn’t even here), my patience was beginning to wear thin. Bambino had selected sarcastic anti-Christmassy cards for his stepbrothers and written childish, borderline offensive messages inside. He’s a 15-yearold kid and this is the banter that always flies back and forth between them. I felt like saying “well, at least he got you a card, where the hell is HIS?” but bit my tongue and smiled feebly at the 8th or 9th comment of “he’s such an idiot“. I don’t find it funny.

Why am I so angry at all these people I love? Yes, angry. Full on, intense anger and resentment. I want to slap most of them, tell them all to fuck off and run away and spend Christmas alone in a remote cabin with just the sound of the wind outside for conversation. That’d do me fine just about now.

The beauty of all this is, I suppose, that none of it makes me want to drink and I know I need to look at this as a victory, but it is damn difficult to regulate these feelings and of course Uncle Alcohol would immediately take the edge off. Right? Not even tempted, not even a little. I think I’ve got very good at playing the tape forward and whilst last nights comments and displays of what I consider spoilt, inconsiderate behaviour may have been negated by the numbness of Sauvignon Blanc, I know I’d be sitting here now feeling like death. AND I’M NOT. I’m sitting here feeling angry and resentful, but I’m sitting here with all that anger and resentment feeling physically great and with a clear mind. Small victories. I may even go for a run later, even though I went for one yesterday.

Where is this all coming from? I honestly don’t know. I’d been looking forward to seeing mum for MONTHS, ever since she booked her tickets to come to London for a little festive visit seeing as we’re not heading to Sweden this year to celebrate. And if I had my way, my Bonus Sons would be always with us and obviously Bambino too. So I adore all these people, and yet they have all really got to me and I’m a spiky ball of aggression. The best way I can describe how I feel is FUCK OFF.

My emotions are alerting me to something and I can’t figure out what. They’re telling me I’m not getting something I need but I don’t know what it is. All I have is this sticky, unpleasant pool of resentment that I’m crawling around in, and the more I try to move, the more I sink into it.

Fuck this! I need to figure this out. One of my Bonus Sons just got up and immediately I’m struck by how much I love him and how grateful I am that I have these two young men in my life. He just walked in and I felt my whole being soften, just like I’m so utterly fortunate to have the mother I was blessed with, who these days is my best friend. If I weren’t bound to all of them through family ties, I’d choose them voluntarily. So what’s my problem? Well, I need to work it out because whilst there is no part of me that wants to escape into a bottle – I’d still rather eat dog shit than drink alcohol – this anger and feeling prickly is really getting to me.

Nope, no festive cheer from me today. Just an acknowledgement that I’m feeling this way and need to work it out.

Today I’m not going to drink.

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