Donuts for dinner
Day 313 of being sober…
… and Day 6 of something entirely different.
Today I woke up in bed, next to one of my best friends Sof. I had told myself I was 100% going to go to a class this morning but to be totally honest; with the options being either staring into space at barre class in a room full of strangers at 8am or sitting in bed with her drinking a tea and chatting, there was no contest.
She left at around 10am so I quickly lined up someone else to be there to distract me, albeit on the end of the phone, Belle. She chatted away telling me about her date the previous night (which btw sounded very promising) but I knew I'd have to be alone with my thoughts again soon though in the shower - I had to wash my hair. It’s been a fair few days (understatement) and my hair isn't that magic kind of hair that people talk about washing itself - no no, it looked vile. *
I finally washed my hair and another friend Rosie had arranged to meet me in a cafe near my house that I've become a little obsessed with - Hash E8 (massive S/O to them for their insanely banging pancakes, both a blessing and a curse). After sitting on my sofa in a towel staring into space for a while, I realised that I was late and that she was already there so I quickly made myself look kinda presentable and walked out of the door.
Thank you Rosie. If she hadn't insisted we work together today I might still be sat in my towel, on my sofa, staring. We ate, we drank coffee and we told stories about Harls… we laughed. I got work done and just knowing she was there opposite me helped.
I have booked in with my therapist for tonight, having stopped going about a month ago as everything was so stable but I knew that I had to go back as things don't feel quite as stable anymore. I also booked into yin yoga as a way to try and deal with what's going on in as healthy way as possible, opposed to a million other things my brain is pulling me towards.
I decided to go and have a look at the graffiti that the boys did for Harls in Dalston as it's kinda on my way to therapy; it's so much bigger than I thought it would be.
I walked towards my therapists’ office in a bit of a daze and suddenly heard my name being yelled… I haven't actually come into contact with anyone yet who isn't either family or in my very close group of friends, until now. I turned around and it's my ex-boyfriend. I know he knows. I can tell by the look on his face, he says sorry and the moment he hugs me I break down in the middle of the street.
I get to therapy, have a session. It's brutal as expected but I know it's a good decision to have gone. I battle in my head between going home and getting in my bed and going to my booked class. I even call Claire and debate it with her and message Blaize (owner of the London Wellness Studio) about it too, co-dependency anyone?!
Anyway, I decided to go because deep down I know it will help but then I get on the wrong bus - this is a journey I do about 6 times a week...
I turn around get on the right bus...
and I DO yoga.
There, I did it. I didn't completely fail at my day.
During yoga, I think about what I should cook myself. I'm not good at feeding myself and as you may have gathered from this blog, I am not a budding chef but anyway, I'm motivated throughout the class to be good to myself; to be kind, eat well and start to think about all the kale and veg I'm going to buy and cook when I get in.
On the way to Tesco's there is a deli that sells freshly baked bread etc., Palm Two - they have doughy jam donuts and they’re calling to me…
I got through the day and that's a win, a donut for dinner will do tonight.
You can't win them all.
I promise this blog isn't going to become a depressing blog about me coping with this but for now you're going to have to deal with it, he was a HUGE part of my life and it's a brand new feeling that I'm trying to work through...so sorry for the spam but also, not sorry. Trust me when I say THIS teamed with NOT drinking and boredom is tough, tougher than tough...the toughest.
* Freelancer side note: If you want to work from your ‘office' in your pants looking like utter shit you can. You can even don this attire to have full blown, professional meetings (on the phone) with a room full of people who are fully dressed, washed and brushed and everything... it's the beauty of freelance life isn’t it?