Ten Fecks To Give

Inevitably the 'Oh shite' phase happens after some meltdown or other and you find yourself apologising for whatever you said or did last night. That's on the basis that you have been gifted with the memory of it in the first place. Oh Shite lasts for hours, sometimes days when you shudder in quiet horror at what you said with a bottle swirling around in your head. Anxiety abounds, hangxiety is in full flight through your body and you begin to go from oh shite feelings to feeling like a piece of shite as a human being, as a mother, a wife, a sister, an employee the whole shite show just descends and gets darker and darker with every passing hour. You are also MORTO as it is becoming increasingly obvious to those closest to you that although you look like a fully-high- functioning-mammy-and- wifeyou are quietly sloshing your life away nightly in the kitchen. The killer moment on my journey is when I started googling 'How much wine is safe for a woman to drink daily?"

This was so very telling as it was all internalised and I didn't share my concerns with any other human being; it was me, myself and I in the company of my laptop surfing the net for solutions to keep alcohol in my life, yet manage it in a way that did not cause the roof to fecking blow off my life. Once you hit the OH SHITE phase you are already entering the GIANT FECK without even realising you are ten fecks away from a great life. Is there a spiritual guide to how to deal with the oh shite mornings? No, it's a slow but STEADY realisation that you can't go on lashing into the fecking bottle nightly. Prof. Google repeatedly points out that you SHOULD be addressing this wine o clock-addiction business, but, in your mind Prof. Google is not in the book club which consumes more wine than the local pub on a match night. You feel as though no one understands you, your situation or your life. Prof. Google also doesn't fully comprehend the complexities of who you are and what you are dealing with - at least that is what you keep telling yourself as you.

pour another glass of oh shite. The word FOREVER is an issue and SCREAMS at you wondering how in the honour of Jaysus you can make it through Christmas, Book Club or your marriage without being three sheets to the wind. Trust me, at this point you are doomed to a life of absolute success as the the GIANT FECK is fast approaching. In my experience it usually hits at dawn with a hangover that is almost too much to bear or after a conversation with a loved one or THE COLD KITCHEN STARES scenario (omg...is there anything worse than the glazed look over the bowl of Rice Krispies with only snap, crackle and pop as the table conversation...) and when it hits it hits hard. The GIANT FECK is often experienced with your head in your hands, weeping and begging the universe to help. For the first time in decades, you call on all dead relatives and Saints you have not spoken to since Sr. Catherine's class aged 4 years old, to help you navigate what you are feeling. An Irish person saying "Oh FECK," is often a signal to the world that it might damn well spin off its fecking axis. This moment is truly a humbling, sometimes humiliating GIANT FECK.

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