I’ve always been one of those all-or-nothing types of people, putting every bit of effort into everything I do, whether that’s organising an event for my marketing company, taking up a new hobby, or planning a day out with my kids. For years, I’d wake up at 5 am and start work, sending off emails in my pajamas, hours before my colleagues had even got to their desks. Then, I’d get my two kids to school, making sure they had their school bags packed with gym kits and cooking ingredients for home economics, and that their homework was done. I lived my life by lists, calendars, and notes, and being organized was something everyone always saw as a strength of mine. But as well as my work and home life, I was sociable, too, and loved to have a good time. I was always striving to be the best host, the best boss, the best mum, and friend.
Only, while on the outside I appeared successful, the truth was I was hiding a terrible secret, a secret that I eventually admitted to myself in October 2008 when I woke up in hospital. Back home later, pulling out my diary from my bedside drawer, my whole body throbbing in pain, I felt my hand trembling as I wrote, ‘I’m Lorri, and I’m an alcoholic.’
False confidence
It was the first time I’d admitted to myself what I’d probably known for years, and it was terrifying. Somehow, between running my business and looking after my kids, I fitted in a whole other life where I’d sneak off for lunch at midday to meet clients and glug down several glasses of wine. Then, after work, I’d pop to my local pub for more drinks with colleagues.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der January 03, 2022-Ausgabe von WOMAN - UK.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der January 03, 2022-Ausgabe von WOMAN - UK.
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