The Bowling Bag

55 Days Sober and I’m remembering so many of the lies I told myself about my actions, health, work and the list goes on.  Here’s a little light entertainment – don’t judge me!

My hubby goes to bowls on a Monday night.  Now you would think that I have myself a sugar daddy who enjoys this OAP activity but in fact I have myself a toyboy – yep a 6 foot 5 inch young 36 year old who’s dark and handsome 🙂  As with my previous love interests the massive difference with this one was, he had no interest in laddish nights (or weekends) out, didn’t drink too much and was relatively drama free – who would of thought it?!  Now that may seem perfect, but as we all know, there is no such thing and I am far from that myself of course.  But he’s a keeper, for my sins lol!  Anyhoo, nights like these meant I got a whole 3 hours or so in the house to myself and of course I was going to take advantage of that!  So while I was waving my hubby off with one hand I was grabbing my coat with the other to make a dash to the off licence figuring out how much I could drink while he was away, where I would hide the bottles and how I could get to bed and cover up the smell before he got home – imagine if I put these efforts into my own exercise or career!!  I’d be skinny with abs and be running a company by now ffs!!  But no, I put my all into getting drunk, fat and anxious instead 😦

I had been diagnosed with IBS in my early 20’s after going through numerous visits to hospital to be injected in the ass with anti spasm medication.  Those cramps were the worse I have ever experienced in my life.  Days would go by writhing, unable to get out of the fetal position and begging for help before Doctors would give in to the injections – nothing else worked.  Of course, I never put them down to the drink as then I only drank on weekends (binge-ing) and not every weekend at that, but my body was obviously trying to tell me something even back then.  I always said I had very little will power but with drinking, I persevered with a vengence, I would not be missing out on a social life at 21!!!  My IBS got particularly worse when my mum and dad split when I was 24 and panic attacks and anxiety joined the party for the fun.  I remember so desparately wanting to go out with friends but would get a mile or two outside my hometown and the attacks would start so we had to turn and come back.  I also had an obsession with finding toilets if I managed to get out.  I knew where public toilets were everywhere and the pubs I could nip into that were a safe distance.  That helped me manage the stress and anxiety of the just incase moments.  I remember my boyfriend of 7 years not being so supportive on nights out.  I had hoped on the occasions that I had to go home due to the panic or cramps that he would come with me and we could cozy up to a movie while he rubbed my poor tummy – er nope!  If I was a party animal then I had learnt it from the best, and there was no way he’d give up a night (or weekend) of partying.  I was often put in taxis or my mum was called to come and get me and he would wave me off and continue to the pub, club or event we were at.  This also took a toll on my anxiety and panic and made me feel worse by worrying what he was getting up to – another story for another time.  But what an absolute selfish bastard!!!!  Lucky I’m the forgiving sort and we are still friends lol 😉

The IBS seemed to get under control and when that relationship came to an end instead of calming down I ended up partying harder.  Of course, it was the usual newly single going to mingle as I had been in a relationship from I was 17 and hadn’t really done the whole going out without a bo in tow.  It seemed like I had drank my way through the IBS and it wasn’t going to change my life – no way!  And it worked, I only got the odd bought now and again.  By the time I had met the hubby in my early 30’s I was onto my 12 beer a session in the house with pals and the IBS only raised it’s head the morning after for a dash to the loo and that was it – no cramps really, and I could live with that compared to the horrendous 3 day spasms of my 20’s.  I had convinced myself that it wasn’t the drink at all and it was only stress that was affecting my bowels.  I actually thought it helped to keep me regular – which was a bonus eh?  As I progressed onto the red wine I was really regular and for some reason walking seemed to really bring on my urgency for the loo the next day.  The downside was, it appeared at any given moment without notice and I couldn’t control it.  Now, I had been really proud of myself that in my 20’s I had never had any accidents like I was told could happen with this sudden, no going, back urge.  I had worked around the problem with always parking right beside work or near places I knew had toilets, I wouldn’t go far afield for shopping or walking the dogs – I had many a high speed sprint back to the house when taking the dogs out just hoping I would make it in time.  It was horrible!  When we went out I made excuses why I didn’t want to go to some park that didn’t have toilets or an event that would mean walking about too much.  I was really living!  And I blamed the IBS for it all.  My husband was very understanding of it as he had seen me on the odd occasion I had been doubled over in two crying in pain.

So, managing to drink my wine and get to bed covering up the smell before the hub came home I got up for work the next morning and headed in feeling not so great between the wine and another sleepless night of anxiety and worry.  To my horror my car park was closed and I had to find parking elsewhere!  I found a space a couple of hundred metres away and thought – I’m grand, I’ll be okay.  With immense pride I walked into work without a cramp or spasm and no urge for the loo – ah ha, see it wasn’t the drink – noooooooo, proved it!  I got my day in and happy as larry I made my way to the car.  It was a bright sunny day and I watched all the other people coming and going.  I even felt that good that I went into the shop and took my time buying bits and bobs – IBS free me 🙂  As I walked out of the shop with a grin on my face, smiling at people going by, I felt a familiar sudden drop of my innards!!!!!  Oh my god!  A quick assessment told me that work was locked, there were no toilets in sight or bars I could nip into – oh jesus, do not let me shit myself in the middle of the busy commute!!  And worst of all, I have bloody leggings on – they won’t catch anything – it’ll just come through the material!  Panic, Panic, Panic – the only things I could do was, squeeze my butt cheeks together and mince very fast to my car…….. hold it, hold it and mince!  I swear, it gave another meaning to squeaky bum time.  My insides were cruel too – at one point they eased up and I thought, yay! a false alarm! to suddenly feeling the drop inside again – oh no.  I’m nearly at the car, I can make it – I can, I can and in I got to the drivers seat but did not dare to relax those cheeks as that would have been fatal.  Right, calculate, how long to get home – nope not going to make it, where’s the nearest loo, nope, if I stand up it could cause a sudden evacuation, ok lets look about.  I was in a residential street that was pretty quiet and only the odd person was passing.  I could subtly lift myself and go in a plastic bag and there’s napkins in the glove compartment – right plastic bag – fuck!  No plastic bags – I could cry only it would take too much effort and I needed all my effort in my butt cheeks.  Then I spotted it – the hubbys bowling bag in the back seat……….  yep, I did it and what a relief – at that point I didn’t even care if someone saw me.  I am not proud of myself and thank god I’ve stayed anonymous on this (apart from the odd friend whom I trust – hiya!) but there was no way I was going to make it.  Luckily for me there was a skip nearby, so after zipping up the bag, it was thrown out the window on my way past into the skip.  I really hope no-one came across it and thought they were going to get themselves a freebie – they would have got more than they bargained for!  Oh, and the bowling balls were left to roam free in the boot after and thank god my hubby is so forgetful that he never asked about his bag and I never brought it up!

Thank god that has been my only incident and it wasn’t because of IBS – it was because I was drinking poison and I was filling my body full of it until it could take no more.  I really can’t believe what I put my body through for well over 20 years but I’m sure going to make it up to it because it’s been good to me.  Since I’ve stopped drinking I’ve had no IBS episodes and I’m also working on my diet as I know I need to do that too – one step at a time though.

I hope I gave someone a laugh – if we didn’t laugh at these experiences then it would make them all the sadder.

Night, night,

Sibi xx

4 thoughts on “The Bowling Bag

  1. OMG that story was hilarious and terrible at the same time – brilliantly written!! I don’t know whether to laugh or want to hug you lol!! I have IBS too and I know exactly that pain, not fun! Especially when the loo looks black after a night on the red wine lol 😉
    Keeping everything crossed for you the IVF works. Well done on doing so well! xx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This made me smile so much when I seen it – thank you for your kinds words! You made me very happy 🙂 God I don’t miss the loo full of red wine – gin was even worse blurgh!!!! Thanks for the IVF well wishes – we need all the fingers crossed we can get lol! xx

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