Having made a serious - and concerted - effort to improve my lifestyle choices of late (staring down the barrel of my thirties with weekly hangover frankly seems unappealing, no matter how hilarious/entertaining/momentous the pre-hangover shenanigans may seem). Thus far, it's been a challenging and rewarding ride, though wholly satisfying. I've found that awkwardness of fielding questions about why I'm not boozing is far outweighed by feeling, oh you know, like an actual HUMAN BEING when I awake - not grasping around for my phone wondering if I might owe someone an apology, not bailing on a brunch event because the only thing I can do successfully is eat Nando's and watch Family Guy, not frantically seeking affirmation that I didn't act like a moron the previous night because I can't remember for myself. So for a few weeks now I've been going great guns, and then Christmas Day smacked me straight in my champagne addled face. Whilst I certainly didn't have a blinder, it seems that my body is already responding to the reduced alcohol intake by protesting - boldly - at even a few glasses of wine. Drinking amounts that I was able to happily chug back just a few weeks ago just won't fly. The washout of course is that today, I have a headache and am left wondering where things went wrong, toying with those familiar feelings of guilt, regret, and disappointment.
As I mentally begin the self flagellation process, my beloved points out to me that, actually, I've been managing quite nicely for the last few weeks, and maybe I should cut myself some slack, to lay off the guilt, to simply chalk it up to plans gone a little awry. And I think he's right. It's so easy to nestle into the feeling of shame and awfulness, to beat yourself up over decisions made and throw yourself into a juice cleanse/three hours at the gym to punish yourself for the last night's errors in judgement. Perhaps the best approach (for me anyway) is to step back, acknowledge how far I've come (I handled all my Christmas engagements this year booze free, which is something I NEVER would have thought possible). For me, it's all about breaking the rinse and repeat cycle of 'binge and purge' followed by shame and resentment, and I think today I can do that : to say that it's just a hiccup, to acknowledge (gently) what may have gone wrong, and reaffirm my strategy for next time. In doing so, I'm reminded of this:
