Self-Isolation & Why I’m Holding Wine in my Instagram

Happy Sunday Campers! How are we all? Hope you’re staying positive and testing negative. The NHS slid into my DMs last night with an order to self-isolate. For my non-UK readers, it means my phone (and me) have been within a certain distance of someone who has tested positive for coronavirus and so I now cannot leave my house for 10 days. As you know, I have been staying with my support bubble for a week, and so this has added an extension to my stay. Sorry guys. xoxo

It’s me and these four walls for the foreseeable. I’m feeling okay, fingers crossed the virus hasn’t made its way into me and I’ll just be bored for a few days rather than sick. Luckily, I’ve found a house I want to put an offer in, as this means future viewings have stopped for me – but please send me all the good luck vibes that my offer will be accepted and I won’t be homeless.

Right, let’s get on to the elephant in the room. Or shall we say, wine glass in my hand. I’m not going to say I failed, because that rhetoric isn’t helpful, but I have been drinking. I know I need to be sober, and I know I haven’t been keeping up with AA. My addict wants me to give you all excuses, but there are none. I’m at a stumbling block. There’s no time like the present to be sober, and it’s one day at a time. I know all this; I’ve just been letting my addict call the shots as of late. I don’t really know what else to say. I don’t want to give excuses and I don’t want to make any bold proclamations such as ‘I’m never drinking again’ (see previous articles) because those do not help.

I’m not perfect and I never pretend to be. I do want to be sober, but I’m not right now. I’m using alcohol as a crutch during this turbulent time, which I shouldn’t be. I used it to celebrate finding a house I want, which I shouldn’t have. I’m romanticising it as something I have control over, which I don’t. I know all of this, but I just feel stuck. It’s been such a big part of my life for nearly 20 years, and I’m finding the break-up tough. It’s like that one crap ex you know you need to move on from but the toxic sex was just so good you find yourself in their bed time and time again. Waking up, staring at the ceiling thinking ‘oh fuck, why am I here again?’ Vowing to yourself that you won’t do it again. Rinse. Repeat.  

I’m feeling rather anxious at the moment. I’m overthinking everything. I’m overanalysing things that don’t need more than a glance. My logic tells me it’s not personal, by BPD tells me it really is. Thanks BPD, such a champ. I feel awful for being stuck with my support bubble for another week. They’ve been so amazing, and I’ve gone and got myself up the metaphorical-potential-virus-duff. I’m going to call 111 and see if I’m allowed to go home so long as I don’t stop anywhere en route and then adhere to isolation when I’m there. There’s no one in that house to infect. Who knows? Hopefully 111.

So currently, I am not living my best life. I feel a burden on my best friend and boyfriend (hers, not mine). I feel shameful and guilty for drinking. I feel anxious about having been exposed to COVID. I feel an idiot for putting myself in a situation that may have contributed to the spread of the virus. I feel lost, and purposeless.

These are all temporary though. I will get through isolation. I won’t be here forever. There’s light at the end of tunnel; I just can’t find the light switch at the moment.

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