'At 32 I had a hubby, baby and high flying career. Then I blew it all up.'

The following is an extract of Lead Like You by Jo Wagstaff.

At 32 I had it all – the high-flying career, the European car, the beautiful home, the successful husband, and the gorgeous baby boy. That was the year it all began to unravel.

My marriage fell apart and my dad died of cancer. I was completely devastated and from that moment on, my life began to spiral out of control. It was hard to tell from the outside, as I was still successful at work, earning a lot of money and using that money to mask what was unfolding within me. 

I fell right into many tried-and-tested behavioural patterns to numb my pain and try to find some much-needed comfort. I focused on other people, rather than staying with what was going on for me. There was no better distraction from myself and my feelings than focusing on others. It was a way of trying to feel some kind of control when my emotional life felt so out of control. I also have a long history of being attracted to emotionally unavailable men, so what happened next was not that surprising in retrospect...

One evening, a few months after Dad had died, I was out at a barbecue and met a man we'll call Tim. He was very handsome and charismatic. He had been trying to make it as an actor all his life, so he didn't have a job or any money, but boy, could he make me feel good. 

I was newly divorced, feeling incredibly insecure about being an 'over-the-hill' single mother who nobody would want, while also in incredible pain and abandonment over my marriage ending and my dad dying. Tim admired my success, showered me with attention and told me I was beautiful. I was so deeply insecure that his attention was like a drug. I wanted more. 

When I left the barbecue that night, a mutual friend said, "Stay away from Tim. He has a lot of problems and I promise you, he will never be able to love you."

In my distorted thinking, I thought: 'game on'. I had spent my whole life trying to get my father to want me, so this was a very familiar game. I would be able to change him, I would be able to love him and look after him — the way I am sure I wanted to be loved and looked after in that moment. 

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So, into rescue mode I went, using my money and a successful career to give me some sense of power and control. It's now obvious to me that Tim never would have stayed with me if I hadn't had money. He used me to live a lifestyle he had no interest in working for. And I used him to try to feel better about myself and, I suspect, to punish myself. All of which came from a place of great unworthiness.

Tim was a true party boy and I had never been a party girl, not nearly to this level. Sure, I enjoyed a good time, a few drinks and a good night out, but I had never tried drugs, other than perhaps a bit of marijuana back in my high school years, which just sent me to sleep. 

I remember one night when I was married, my husband and I were offered some ecstasy at a New Year's Eve party. "No way," I said. "That stuff can kill you." I was very conservative around the ideas of sex, drugs and 'high-end' partying. In fact, I didn't really know any of it existed. Tim was a high-functioning drug addict, sex addict and gambler, but I didn't know any of that in the early days.

Conscious reflection

Have you ever lost yourself in a relationship? Or prioritised your partner over yourself? Or avoided yourself or areas of your life that you knew needed attention? As confronting as it can feel to acknowledge these parts of ourselves, when we bring self-compassion to self-awareness, there is enormous freedom that comes from facing the truth and learning to honour ourselves and our needs.

While my son Hugo was with his dad, Tim introduced me to a whole new world, parts of which were exciting and felt liberating, parts of which were terrifying and overwhelming. I paid for it financially, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

I was offered and tried almost every drug there is other than heroin. I snorted cocaine off toilet seats in nightclubs at ungodly hours of the morning. I took uppers and downers. Drank excessive amounts of French champagne. I picked Tim up after he had been beaten by his drug dealers and shoved in the boot of a car. 

I paid off all his debts, a few times. I believed him when he told me he was not being unfaithful, even though I had seen text messages that said otherwise. I called him many times when he would disappear on two or three-day benders and would not pick up his phone. I begged him to call me, then asked him to leave, before forgiving him when he asked to come back. I was anxious to feel close and desperate not to feel my deep abandonment wound that was triggered almost daily with him. 

I had no boundaries, internally or externally.

Image: Supplied.

All that time, I was trying to numb my own pain and grief and hide from my own inner demons. Numbing through drugs and alcohol, numbing through trying to fix and rescue Tim, caught up and distracted from my own pain by the constant drama that surrounded him and continuing to numb with work, as I was still very focused on trying to achieve my worth there. 

In and amongst these very turbulent years, when Hugo was with me, I spent very little time with Tim and tried so hard to show Hugo how much I loved him, but looking back, I wish with all my heart I could have done it differently. When Hugo was not with his dad and stepmum, I was grateful I could afford a very precious nanny called Tanya, who looked after Hugo while I was at work and became a very important member of our family. Hugo had so many women in his life that loved him.

This was undoubtedly the most emotionally painful time of my adult life. As I reflect back on it, I see the deep attachment wounds that were driving my behaviours, which ultimately were replaying the patterns set up in my past. 

While I am grateful for my awareness and understanding of myself now, I am still learning to forgive myself for what I did not know or understand then, to forgive myself for what I put myself through in my own self-abandonment — and especially for not being capable of being more fully available to my son, and the breakdown and incredible loss of relationships that were important to me. 

Very slowly, I have become aware of my conditioning and the impact of trauma on our ability to be in healthy relationships. I gained an understanding of attachment theory. I have become more capable of seeing my own unconsciousness and innocence, and the powerlessness that comes with this. 

Perhaps most importantly, I have taken responsibility for my own healing. I have committed myself to raising my consciousness and minimising the impact of my past on the present and on those whom I love. 

I am committed to breaking the relational cycles that are handed down through generations in my family and all families. Now I can sometimes even allow myself a level of pride for doing what is arguably the hardest work we can ever do. When we heal the mother, we heal the children. If I were to leave this Earth tomorrow, this is the legacy I most want to leave, and within it, find some peace in my heart and being.

This is an edited extract from Lead Like You: How Authenticity Transforms the Way Women Live, Love, and Succeed (Wiley, $34.95). 

Feature Image: Instagram/@jowagstaffofficial.

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