Letters Pt. I

Day 11

Letters Pt. 1

Some years ago, a family member who struggled with their weight made the familiar decision to join a weight-loss group.

In this programme, the monthly meetings operated more like a seminar or night course where the participants underwent talking therapy, lecturers and reflective tasks.

One of the tasks was to write letters, to and from your body.

I forgot about this until it struck me that each time I took a drink, a tense exchange occurred between my body and the bottle of wine I was about to poison it with. On reflection, it's crazy how conscious I was of the damage I was doing to myself. Yet, I felt powerless to stop for many reasons (see Why I Drank).

This is letter No.1 - To My Body, From, Me.

*

Dear ------

I’m sorry I put so much pressure on you, even when I didn’t feel under it.

I had a bad habit of looking the other way when faced with the cold, hard facts about our relationship. I didn’t want to accept that I might have destroyed us once and for all. After all the years together, you’d think it would be easy to face your other half with the truth. But it’s really not.

You have given me so much - good hair, clear skin, an ideal height and shoe size, a fast metabolism. Wide, hazel eyes and straight, pearly teeth and a nice round bum – stuff I could be proud of and feel good about. You’re were made of good stuff, even after we lost that organ to a disease at birth.

I have given you alcohol poisoning, cramps, memory loss, headaches, the time I was so hungover you couldn’t walk, or get out of bed. And I was bratty and cursed you for failing to function. I have chipped your teeth from opening bottles, bitten the skin – and nails – clean off of your fingers, and spoiled your beautiful complexion with pimples and spots. Your skin is scaly and feels like sandpaper.

I have put you in dangerous situations - close to bankruptcy, homelessness, injury and death. The poison I drank dismantled the firewall you worked so hard to build. My cravings for approval and validation meant I let anyone across the threshold of our home. I let people abuse you, invalidate you, persuade you to do things with your body – and theirs – that we didn’t discuss, that we didn’t approve of. I had no respect for myself, or you. When I felt down and worthless, I projected it on to you.

I could have listened to you. I did hear your pleading and cursing in anger, I did feel your pain. I know you’ve tried to help me to no avail. It must be really hard to overcome the physical pain of my emotional damage and self-inflection. I drowned out the noise with drink and drunk-dreams and said: “I’ll think about it tomorrow.” By morning, I’d already forgotten the promises I’d made to you. That’s the pattern of an addict, or so I’ve read.

When I spiral into that dark, dark place - forcing you to swallow the poison for me whilst I exist somewhere else - a quiet, sober voice speaks to me. It warns me of the inevitable – the day you won’t be here for me. As you always have been. And not sound cliché but I really can’t live without you. As bad quotes go: “You complete me”.

Almost losing you, and at a such a young age, before we got to know each other - that should have scared me straight into sobriety before I was even old enough to drink. Like a religion that forbids it, I could’ve believed in you, worshipped you.

I didn’t. Now, I pray that you will recover. That we will find our way back to one another.

Please find you way back to me. It will be different now. I’m ready.

Yours,

------