My heart has hurt this week for Grant Hackett, actually hurt. Tears have stung in my eyes as I’ve read with trembling hands, holding my breath.
I read he’s now tucked safely in a hotel, away from the prying eyes of the media – and a chattering family.
I know many people are saying, ‘leave him alone’ and they’re right. We all want him to be given the headspace and unthreatened peace to get the help he needs.
But, it’s natural when one human being’s experience overlaps with your own to feel empathy, sympathy and anguish all at the same time. It’s not judgmental to want the best for someone.
I can relate to the rollercoaster of despair. I can feel the sickening dread. It churns my stomach.
There were four little words that helped me when I was drowning; I want to share them in the hope they can help someone else.
I tried for many years to do deals with alcohol, which I used as a Band-Aid for crushing depression. I tried to tell myself I’d ‘just have one or two’, I tried to pretend I could drink like other people and that I could slam on the brakes if I wanted to. Truth was, I couldn’t.
When I looked at photos of Hackett with a glass of red wine in his hand with his new girlfriend last July I felt nervous. And there’s a big difference between nervous and judgey – which I didn’t feel at all. Only he truly knows what his relationship with alcohol is like. He’s talked bravely and honestly about rehab and therapy.