Mila

I peek into my 19-year-old's room and see a vodka bottle on her nightstand. I don't know if it’s the same one from a month ago or a week ago. Seeing the bottle sitting there twists something inside me. I can't explain the feeling, but it comes straight from my guts and feels like it’s strengthening my abdominal muscles. I want better for her. I guess this is what regret feels like. My chest is heavy with worry as I stare at that bottle and blame myself for all the bad things that may or may not come in her future.

I wish I could go back and erase things from her memories. She saw me drink from birth to adulthood. Our home was alcohol-themed, with kegerators, Beer glasses, Branded coasters and Beer-labelled T-shirts. Now I’m left wondering, will she have the same lies about alcohol deeply implanted in her mind? Will she think it makes her funnier, braver and freer like I did? Does she feel more like herself? How do I stop her from falling into the same trap?

Why did I have to make so many jokes about drinking? Why couldn’t I keep the mommy wine culture bull shit comments to myself? I advertised for big alcohol for so many years and showed no consequence. She looked up to me, and I failed her. I wish I could go back and not seem so functional. Does that sound ridiculous?

I told her that as much as I kept myself together on the outside, I was getting torn up inside. That her stepdad and I’s relationship suffered at the hands of addiction. I told her I suffered, not with hangovers but on such a deeper level, that I missed out on life, that I’m missing memories, and That I was not cool, that it was not cool.

I tell her I lost control and she could also lose control, But she looks at me like I’ve said nothing.

I wish I could make her understand the “this is my upstairs vodka” and “wine is groceries” comments were tacky. That the “I don’t trust people that don’t drink” comments were naive. When I ran in the morning, it wasn’t because I had my shit together. It was to stop me from falling apart. When she saw me prooving, I could drink and still do everything. It left me empty, exhausted and unfulfilled. I wish I could erase the super mom image because it was a costume I wore. I wore it so well that I fooled even myself.

But this mind trap is part of recovery. And luckily, I have a friendly voice that reminds me that I need to be kind to myself. It is easy to look back and think of my past best as not good enough. You can't know what you don’t know yet, and I did do my best back then. It’s as if our kids grow up, and we then know how best to parent them. What a waste that seems, But Living in regret doesn't change anything.

I remind myself that anxiety likes to keep us in the past and the future, so I shut the door to my daughter's room and let all the feelings I have about the bottle, my life back then and the regrets about her childhood stay in that room.

I stay in the now and keep doing my best.

I surrender to what was and might be.

I am human. I'm Imperfect, and I'm working on being okay with that.