Wednesday, 6 July 2016

hangover anxiety - Giving up Drink?



Prosecco Tuesday was probably never a good idea, it's just that it sounded amazing and to be fair it was kinda amazing but hungover Wednesday has left a rather sour taste in my mouth. Why do all my friends insist on Prosecco being the holy grail of a good night in, I don't even like the stuff.

It tastes like I'm drinking cheap champagne and to be perfectly honest I wouldn't even enjoy drinking expensive champagne.  Malibu and coke, ice and a slice is way more me. Mostly because wine and champers leave my head feeling foggy beyond belief.

I always think I love a drink, everyone's always banging on about that Friday night feel, you instantly think 'ooh a glass of wine', maybe a bottle or two between friends, a cosy chat on the sofa or a night out to the pub, it's pretty standard stuff really. No one wants to be the office bore who has to rush home to feed the cat, even if you genuinely do need to go home and feed the poor cat. No one else can know that because really that makes you just a few years away from being about 85 and that my friend is hella BORING.

In all honesty I would rather be at home feeding my cat, I just don't like being drunk anymore.

It may have something to do with my social anxiety and my need to always feel in control of what I am doing and where my head is at. Waking up and not knowing what I might have said or done is not something that sits comfortably with me. I cringe at my snapchat stories now, why must I insist on singing to the camera every 10 seconds, like no one's ever listened to Mcfly in 2016 but me.

This morning I woke up with makeup still on my face, the remains of my foundation stuck to a particularly attractive spot turned white head on my chin. Hormones or wine? I can't quite tell.
I found my plate with the remains of my leftover jacket potato and cheese I had microwaved at 1am, of course, because why not. How I grated cheese at 1am is beyond me.
Then I remembered how hard I had worked out yesterday and how I swore I was going to be good for the rest of the week.

I then just felt this incredible guilt that I could have been so lazy not to have even bothered taking off my makeup. It's not a huge deal, it's really not but to me this morning it was. You know when you just feel guilty for being a drunken mess. I felt bad that I don't have a proper job and really I absolutely don't have the money to be spending it all in the pub.

I got in my car to go to Tesco to pick up some lunch, drove just outside of my road and knew I had to go home. Just being faced with decisions like 'which route do I take', 'do I give way to you', they gave me the weirdest sense of panic and uncertainty, I just couldn't do it. I cant explain why I felt like this, it's a bit bloody random I know but I think it's just guilt and uncertainty.

I feel like if I did have all my shit sorted out then I wouldn't even need to go out and have a drink, of course this is ridiculous but it just seems to be how I am programmed to think. Do people with full time jobs, a sassy pay check and a stable cushty life go out and get pissed? They most definitely do, you only have to walk through London on a Friday night to figure that one out.

Now I'm getting hunger pains and a ridiculous need to order on Just Eat.

I cant explain why I get this feeling of anxiousness the day after drinking, it just leaves me feeling so on edge and I hate it.

I just can't explain it but it makes me not want to go out and drink, it makes me want to be in complete control of myself at all times. The 18 year old girl I used to be who was never happier than when she was stumbling around clubs, downing jagers and just generally being happy, she's gone.

But in all honesty I couldn't be happier with my choice to call it quits.