Hey guys, sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. I suppose I feel like I’ve been in a bit of a creative slump lately. But I do want to check in really quick to do a sort of “post” check-in after my Dry January experience. I’ve had a couple nights of drinking (literally, two nights and one Superbowl Sunday), and I thought it might be interesting to do a post on how I feel about drinking now – now that I’ve gone without for thirty days. This very moment for this post seems right too because for some reason my emotions are on my sleeve today. I feel like this post needs that – the emotion I mean. Without further adieu – the Post Dry January Check In.
As I said above I’ve drank wine two nights and I had a total of about 3.5 beers on Superbowl Sunday. The two wine nights were a bit more out of control (more on that later), but the Superbowl Sunday felt just right. Ordinarily, I would have probably drank closer to double the amount that I actually did – so right around 7 or 8 beers in a 6 or 7 hour period or less. One reason for the cut back is that I drank the night before. I drank quite a bit of red wine the night before, and I absolutely regretted it the next day. Cue hangover. Yes, my first time back drinking after 30 days and I screw myself. It was good because it made me want to drink less on Sunday, but it was bad because all hangovers are bad and this one was exceptionally bad in my experience. So, there’s that. I thought that maybe that experience would help me to not want to be hungover ever again, but I’m an idiot. My second evening of wine drinking occurred over the weekend and I felt like a giant ass.
The second evening of drinking was also wine, but not red this time, I drank solely white wine. I have no idea what my limits are at this point and that became apparent when I suddenly realized I lost count of the glasses I was drinking. Sure it’s easy to blame my pour-heavy friend that kept refilling my glass but ultimately the fault is my own. I think overall I was probably fine, until I decided that I wanted to go home. I’m not proud to say that I did it – I drove. I NEVER should have driven in my state. Luckily, my house is less than a quarter mile from where I was and all residential streets, but God forbid something could’ve happened. I felt so ashamed the next day and still do. It’s a choice I ordinarily would never EVER make, even if it meant walking home and drunkenly picking up cacti parts on the way getting pricks all over my hands and arms (yes, this has happened to me – drunk idiot).
I woke up after said white wine night and I wasn’t hungover physically but I think more emotionally and maybe mentally than I’ve felt in a long time. I had lost parts of the night along the way and was trying to recall them the next morning without much luck. How could I have let myself get to that point? I didn’t want to drink that much or get that drunk but I did and seemingly without any control or thought whatsoever. It turned out that I made a complete ass of myself once I got home. I was able to put some of the pieces together after being told what I did. I hate that. I hate having to be told what I did. What did I say? How could I have behaved that way? Who am I?? Utter shame. I still feel it as I type this. I don’t want to drink that way. I want to have a couple glasses of wine and have a warm buzz where maybe I laugh so hard I snort, but I don’t want to be a drunk. I don’t want to forget who I am.
I guess all in all I’m learning. I never thought a sober 30 days would teach me so much about myself and my relationship with alcohol. I think it’s terribly unfair that alcohol is such a thing. A thing that can make us other people. It can make us do things we wouldn’t ordinarily do and say things we wouldn’t ordinarily say. But then again, it is us, isn’t it? It’s not the alcohol’s fault I did that. It’s my fault I drank the alcohol in the first place.
Until next time.