Geez, how are we already 12 days into 2014?! I haven't posted in forever. It feels all types of strange.
Sooo....where are we in life?
Well in the spirit of living in the moment, I bought my tickets to Italy (more on this later) and then got all types of crazy on NYE. I'm talking praying to the porcelain god type of crazy.
Damnit. I should have seen it coming.
So, let's back up a little to the forshadowing of my beloved New Years Day Hangover. Before I jetted off from work on NYE eve, my doc requested for all of us to behave ourselves. "Don't drink too much. No drugs. Be safe. And make sure you have a designated driver."
Gotta dig all of that fatherly love coming from our doc (there are four 20 to early 30 year-old somethings in my office with him). And he reiterated his request to be safe and noted that it was especially delivered to me.
"I am not as wild as you thing I am," I stubbornly replied. And he said, "Yeah, I know. I just think you are very carefree." I hmmphed at him and ran off to meet Special K (my new blog nickname for my lover invented by our upstairs neighbor).
A new pair of tights from Target and a crappy salad later and we were off to the party. It was a great time. Our hosts cooked us a salmon dinner. We munched, drank champagne, and had an amazing dessert. We played cards against humanity. We gabbed and joked in our little group. It was a very mellow night. And at this point I was feeling like a very mature 30-something at a fairly fancy dinner party.
Yes! Just the way I wanted to start my 2014.
And then someone made espresso martinis. I drank two of them. Danced like a rock star for an hour and then proceeded to vomit for the next hour. Special K had to leave the party early to drive my sick, drunk butt home. He somehow managed to get me in my pajamas. I was snug as a bug in bed by 130am.
Hangover Shame####
I spent my entire New Years Day lying around.
I. Felt. Awful.
I was nauseated, had reflux, my body ached, and I slept for the majority of the day. I couldn't eat for hours. And when I did, it was a half of piece of toast. I moaned to Special K about how terrible I felt and how upset I was with myself. He tried to make me feel better. He ran to the store and bought me some Pepto and gatorade and comforted me all day long. He told me the espresso probably made me sick.
I knew better. It was me who made me sick. I got all freakin' caught up in my moment of fun. I drank too damn much. And now my 30 year old butt was hung the f* over. I was mad. Embarrased. But mostly, just disappointed in myself. "I'm too old for this shit," I kept telling him all day. And it's true. My over drinking bothered me even into the next day.
Resolution Time####
And on my way back to work on January 2nd, I made my New Years resolution. I vowed to not let this happen again. Never again do I want to be sick from drinking. I know we've all said it. We've all been in this place. And then went out and did it again. But I mean it. I resolved to only drink a glass of wine on any given day. One. And if I'm at a social function, I may have two glasses of wine. Two. And that's it.
Because seriously, if I haven't learned how to have fun sober in 30 years, then that is just kind of sad. And I want to prove to myself that I can.
The Not So Comfy Zone####
But I also want to prove to myself that I can say no to another drink. And even to admit that to myself, well, it makes me feel uncomfortable. I don't like that drinking alcohol has become my main avenue of relaxation and/or fun.
I'm not saying I have a drinking problem. I know what alcoholism looks like and I am not in that boat (not that I'm judging). But I also think there is a fine line between being carefree and overindulging, and I think I am definitely in the gray zone.
And right when I was ho'ing and humming over these mixed emotions, Special K asked me to read a blog post he had found written by Sarah J. Bray. It was really pretty perfect. And, I don't think he had any idea how much it hit home with me. The author discussed how she and her spouse have resolved to do the things that make them feel uncomfortable. She titled her post the Paradox of joy, and discussed how doing the hard and incovenient things in life actually brings the most joy.
It's ingenious.
Push the comfort zone. Challenge yourself to get through that icky thing. Confront the hard things and you will truly grow as a person.
Tough Stuff####
So, thank you, Jilian Michael, for pointing out that the part in my workout when I am dying (literally) is the point I should work the hardest, because that will result in the biggest changes to my body.
Thank you, bone marrow biopies, for humbling me at work on a regular basis. Medical procedures are my Achilles heel. And I am determined to master you.
Thank you, student loan world for sucking and super-supportive fun-employed Special K, for pushing me to be more at ease with living on less.
And finally thank you, alcohol, for reminding me that a good buzz might be an easy road to fun, but not the most enriching.
So, here's to 2014.####
The year I start living life to its fullest. The year where I will enjoy all 365 days without a buzz from alcohol. The year where fitness and a heatlhy diet are just a way of (my new) life. The year where I will face the things that make me uncomfortable head on and tackle them.
I will be brave. I will be bold.
And I will enjoy this beautiful little thing called life.