I was sad to read in the paper earlier about Brendan Coyle, the man who plays Mr Bates in Downton Abbey. He’d just spent four weeks in a rehab facility in Thailand dealing with the fact that he drinks too much, and it seems he checked out and then got loaded on the flight on the way home. I couldn’t help thinking how he must feel, knowing that not only has the month he invested in his recovery gone to shit as soon as he stepped back into his real life, but now his problems are splashed all over the tabloids too.
It must be excruciating to have your demons laid bare for all the world to see. I know that people who choose a career in the public eye have to accept a certain amount of scrutiny as par for the course, but he’s a person first before he’s an actor and I think the papers are a bit cruel picking over the bones when the wheels fall off someone’s life.
It’s hard enough dealing with addiction in private. I can remember back in the day, whenever the binge monster would rear it’s ugly head I’d easily consume five or six thousand calories without batting an eyelid, in my big fat leather recliner with the dog drooling by my side. Incidentally, he rarely got anything, because I didn’t want him to get fat…how ironic is it, that I’d consider the welfare of his waistline but ignore the fact that mine was on the ropes.
The morning after was aways horrible. I’d wake up feeling not sick exactly, it just used to feel like I had a brick lodged in my chest. My mouth used to taste like I’d licked the sole of Ghandi’s flip flop and I felt sluggish, like I had no energy at all. There was rarely evidence when I went downstairs that I’d gone for it in a big way the night before, because most of the time all the packaging would be in the bin outside. That way, I was never forced to confront the reality of how much I’d actually packed away.
The worst thing though was the utter self-loathing, followed closely by a full-blown self-pity party. It’s not a combination designed to bolster your self-esteem, you know? And the thing is, it didn’t matter that I felt like shit, I would always wake up with food on my mind. Not thinking about what I’d eaten the night before, but what I was going to eat next.
They seem like very dark days, when I look back. Thing is, I know I’m one cheese ball away from being back there you know? I mean, yes I’m in the sweet spot and I’m not letting go of that for anybody, but my food sobriety feels fragile. I want to swaddle it in bubble-wrap and keep it away from harm.
I know, when I do things like eating five Ferrero Rocher chocolates on the bounce, one after the other that I’m tearing off the bubble-wrap and throwing my sobriety near the wheels of the bus, and it’s only Lady Luck who’s saved it from going under. I need to be more careful. I didn’t go over points, but I’m flirting with the monster and one day that’s not going to end well.
Which kind of brings me back to the man we all know and love as Mr Bates. His addiction is different to mine, and it’s been played out in a very public arena so I reckon that the self-loathing and shame which follows a binge must surely be magnified…at the end of the day you’re not just judging yourself are you, it must feel like the whole world is picking over your issues and forming a view.
I’d like to put my arm around him today. I reckon he’d need it.
Awwwww, my heart hurts for poor Bates:(
It’s always sad to watch someone publicly shamed for their behavior when everybody else has behaved badly too. It’s just that we’re not interesting to the rest of the world.
Yes, there’s comfort in anonymity sometimes Jen!
I’ve never watched Downtown Abbey, so I’m not familiar with Brendan Coyle, but I do understand how frustrating it is for EVERYONE who deals with addiction to enter treatment, only to leave and get loaded right out of the gate. I have a loved one who is an alcoholic. This person’s drinking has wrecked havoc on the entire family and the shame that goes along with falling off the wagon affects us all. I can’t image it being played out in the tabloids. I know, with my loved one, the shame would be compounded at least 1,000 times.
It just must make it so much harder when you feel the eyes of the world crawling all over your mistakes. Poor bloke 🙁
He signed up to be an actor, not a tabloid sensation. My sympathy is with him, he needs support and help, not tearing down. All of us do.
Absolutely Mimi, my thoughts too 🙂
Agreed! We totally need to stick with the plan, because falling off the wagon is always just around the corner. And it’s harder than alcohol because your workplace doesn’t generally have alcohol sitting on the table to share throughout the day. Our next grab is at every servo, deli, restaurant and cafe that we go to.
That’s so true!
That’s so sad about Brendan Coyle. I have to admit to being the only person who didn’t watch Downton Abbey, but nevertheless, it’s still sad when a person relapses, and even worse when it’s public. I love the term food sobriety – that’s spot on! I’m in my sweet spot too, but I know I’m one biscuit away from a binge.
Hi Steph, lovely to meet you! It feels fragile doesn’t it…I mean, I’m really really sure that I’ve got this, but I’ve taken it for granted in the past and it’s vanished in a puff of smoke. Well done on finding your sweet spot, hold on tight 🙂
Boy Howdy!
Sort of feel like a bratty kid when I painstakingly pick the padding off my New Toy, Pride and Joy, & start smacking it against diverse surfaces, “to see” what happens. Sigh. Left to my own devices, guaranteed there will be tears. My excellent guardian angel is getting her reflexes tested. G.A. probably conjured up your blog, a la Fairy Godmother, ’cause she foresaw that I would have need of a powerful charm.
“Near the wheels of the bus” sounds like a wonderful title for something.
Love U Loa, Fleury
Hey Fleury, you too huh? I’m honoured that your Guardian Angel plugged you into the posse, I’ll have your back if you’ll have mine, right? Back atcha 🙂
No question! I’m your wolverine. BTW, all others, the chatter is powerful medicine. NOBODY gets left behind in the Emergency Lane. Fleury
Too right! I keep a watchful eye on our posse in the same way I used to man-mark sausage rolls on a buffet. Nobody falls over on our watch eh Fleury 🙂 🙂 🙂