Chapter 31
I graduated with an honours degree in Drama and Theatre Studies, which was a miracle considering I’d had a baby and a spell in rehab while my college mates all took up opportunities to travel and take film and theatre roles.
Professor White told me that other mothers made it work, that being a mother had taught me the discipline and responsibility that I had not been able to learn from him.
‘Life lessons come in all sorts of ways, but you have come through and deserve congratulations,’ he said.
I beamed with pride, but I was prouder of my child-rearing and my recovery.
By the time Lucy was a year old, I had successfully weaned her off breast milk to give myself a little freedom, and she graduated to whole milk without too much resistance.
I know I was later than most mothers to do that, but I had an extra reason.
Any alcohol I drank would go straight into Lucy’s system and, if I was breastfeeding, I couldn’t drink.
But one year was enough. Mom booked two weeks’ holiday with her friends straight away.
I was a little alarmed. I knew I needed to go it alone as a mother, but I hadn’t thought I’d be totally on my own.
It was tough. Lucy was a delight, but she was hard work.
I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since she was born.
She cried and cried and cried the first night I placed her in her own room.
It was well past time. I cried too but I waited it out until she cried herself to sleep.
During the day, she cried a lot. She was restless and squirmy in my arms. She was alert, looking around, probably wondering where Mom was. Me too.
Sinéad and Jane came to the house bearing a home-made casserole and bags full of shopping, including nappies and baby wipes, fresh fruit and ready meals, and a bottle of sparkling lemonade.
Their thoughtfulness took me by surprise.
I guess crying down the phone to Sinéad the night before because I had literally spilt milk was received like an SOS.
They ran a bath for me and changed the sheets in my bed and the baby’s crib.
They amused and fed Lucy for about two hours while I bathed and napped.
When I got up, we toasted my graduation with lemonade, and I felt lucky and blessed.
Sinéad was going to London the following month to try to get an acting agent there, while Jane had won her first role in a touring show around Ireland.
I admit that part of me felt left out. I should have been embarking on a career by now but there was no way I was going to put Lucy into full-time daycare yet.
I had a few people I could call on as babysitters – my lovely neighbour Helen, and another teenager from the house opposite had offered too – but I thought it would be easier if I stopped going to AA meetings so often.
Yes, they helped me stay sober but the emphasis on forgiveness and honesty and making amends were things I could not reckon with.
I made up my mind. I was going to have to give up AA.
I was sure I could stay sober without it, but I couldn’t continue to live a lie with my AA family. I would have to do without them.
I kept myself busy. I started going to auditions, which was tough when you had a child and no agent.
All my female college friends went for the same roles, but those with agents were more likely to hear about auditions than those of us without.
I would generally hear about these shows through my former classmates.
My accent didn’t help. It was frustrating that I could do every accent except an Irish one – in fact, in my drinking days, I often pretended to be French or Russian for whole days while on a binge.
No agent would take me on because I had become an infamous drunken liability during my college years.
It was a label that was hard to shake off.
On a few occasions, I’d have lunch with Jane or Sinéad and then bump into them the next day at an audition.
The friendships started to become strained.
There were few enough roles being cast for theatre work and having to directly compete with friends was tough.
Eventually, I got a supporting part in a stage show and, thankfully, as a result of that, I was introduced at the after-party on opening night to an agent who was also in recovery.
We found ourselves leaving for the cloakroom at the same time and struck up conversation.
Daphne was honest and upfront. I warmed to her immediately.
She was rebuilding her agency after losing a lot of her clients because of her addiction.
We were a perfect match. After that, the stage parts got bigger, though they were still few and far between.
Still, I was slowly losing my bad reputation.
Daphne tried to convince me to audition for TV and film roles, but I never wanted to be on TV.
‘You know you are reducing your potential earnings by ninety per cent,’ she said.
I didn’t care. I was still in hiding. I didn’t want to take the chance of turning up on a TV screen in Boston.
I stopped going to AA meetings altogether.
Nasrin said that she couldn’t continue to sponsor me if I wasn’t going to do the programme.
I told her that I couldn’t get past the forgiveness part.
I’d told Nasrin about the incident. Not the real one – I’d told her I couldn’t forgive my rapist. She urged me to pray for him.
She didn’t know that I thought of him every night.
I asked if we could remain friends and she said yes, as long as I was sober.
I tried to stop myself thinking about it and Lucy certainly kept me on my toes.
I could stay sober for her. I attended my last meeting in January 2008.
Jack called and pleaded with me to come back.
He was adamant that I would never recover on my own.
I pointed out that I wasn’t the person who had relapsed after a year of AA.
He hung up and I immediately called him back to apologize.
There were lots of ways to stay sober, I told him.
Thousands of people were sober without going to meetings.
He wanted to see me, so we met in a café in Inchicore.
I think he was relieved to see me looking well.
He admitted that he thought I’d already relapsed.
Lucy sat in his lap and gurgled happily. She was always pleased to see him.