Up All Day

From the Inside Flap\nExcerpt. © Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.\nNobody ever warned me about the dreams. In the beginning, the leap took longer. The overwhelming wave of relief wouldn't arrive a split-second later; instead leaving me reeling for an eternity while my mind raced and fumbled, desperate to connect the dots.\nI had no idea that a single REM cycle could transport me back to the deepest, darkest parts of my psyche. I'd tremble for minutes that felt like hours after my eyes flew open, my heart racing; my stomach sick with dread and guilt.\nIt's okay, I reassured myself, willing my pulse to slow down. It was a dream; just a dream. I was home. I was safe. It wasn't me, and it wasn't real life.\nDominic, my love, was sleeping soundly beside me. Being careful not to wake him, I gently slipped from beneath the covers and tiptoed towards the door.\n"Where you going?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.\n"Recording a pep talk," I whispered, heading for the study in my pyjamas.\nWiping sleep from my eyes, I sank into my desk chair and pulled myself towards the microphone. With a click, I started recording.\nMy voice sounded every bit as emotional and vulnerable as I felt, but I didn't care. I wanted to share every detail of this dream while I was still so raw and shaken.\nThe dream took place at a work Christmas party, not unlike so many I'd been to before. A warm summer's breeze swirled past the live band, and colourful lanterns glowed across the garden. Everyone else was drinking and dancing and laughing.\nResentment simmered inside me. The voice of the inner Beast was back and on the brink of a ferocious tantrum, stuck in an infinite loop: It's only one drink! Why can't you have one? What's the big deal?\nIn a swift act of misguided rebellion, I grabbed the closest cocktail and downed it in one. Then I drank another, and another, splashing them down my throat while my colleagues rallied around, cheering me on with hollers of, "Woohoo, the old Bex is back!"\nCompletely wrapped up in the excitement, I let loose, bouncing around the party, determined to catch up to everyone else's tipsiness; hell bent on having The Best Night Ever!\nEveryone else started slowing down. Maybe they'd had enough to drink, or simply knew the night was coming to an end.\nPeople started to leave. No doubt concerned about the condition I was in, one of my colleagues called Dom and asked him to come and collect me. Dom was furious and I was in no state to care.\nThe dream came to a haunting end.\nAs I awoke, before my mind had a chance to unscramble itself, an icy sensation spread through my veins. Oh God, how did I get home? Did I make a fool of myself? What must everyone think?\nEvery one of the old, horrifying, familiar feelings came rushing back: shame, frustration, heartbreaking self-sabotage, and knowing I couldn't trust myself. But worst of all, blinding self-hatred. In that nanosecond, in my mind, I had ruined everything.\nAnd yet, try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to despise the dreams. In a society that glamorised alcohol, receiving a blinding image of the truth; of who I no longer was, and who I no longer had to be, felt like a gift. Like a beautiful - if terrifying - reminder of a life I didn't want to go back to.\nWhat day is it? I wondered, rubbing my eyes as I headed back to bed, pushing my brain to think. Saturday.\nGently, careful not to wake Dom again, I slipped back beneath the covers.\nI was clearly triggered by this upcoming trip, that's all.\nReaching into my bedside drawer, I found a notebook and jotted down a few ideas to work on during the upcoming week. I'd never worked harder in my entire life than I had this past year.\nBut I could do more, I assured myself, quietly placing the notebook back into the drawer. Staying busy was the key to busting through all of these scary milestones. Staying busy would keep me on track.\nFrom the author of the bestselling sobriety memoir, A Happier H