think: the hangover fear

Oh the dreaded hangover, why do you forever plague my life so? 

You scare me shitless and force me to look at myself in the worst loathing light.  You confine me to my pit of self-wallowing (usually my bedroom) and force me to look at the bigger picture – that I do not want to go out and consume alcohol ever again.  I suffer you with no dignity and find myself crawling on the bathroom floor to graciously put my head in the toilet and spew my guts up on the regular. It is not a pretty picture to paint, but it is my reality. 

Regardless of whether I am rolling around my bed, cursing your destructive nature, or perhaps walking around in the fresh air, with my knees buckling and head spinning at every step, every time you visit me, I am forever living in constant fear.

I am developing a serious phobia of being hungover. 

This intense fear has spawned from my unbearable morning-after-the-night-before migraine, my nauseous stomach and the inability to do anything.  By anything, I mean – I cannot watch a movie, read a book, write down my woes, lift a pen or even make a cup of tea.  I become a helpless and wretched mess.  I have reached the point of wishing the day away, because I know that I cannot physically function.  It is already bad and it is getting continuously worse.

Is it just me, or is it not even ever worth it?  I had a good night, we danced and we drank, we ate pizza and celebrated a birthday.  We had a delicious meal at Albert Schloss, (which I would highly advise you do on a Sunday evening!)  We rolled in at 5 am after dancing the night away in Manchester’s Gay Village and I even remembered to guzzle some juice and take off my makeup (for once).  I woke up refreshed, slightly sleepy, but never-the-less, I thought I was just fine. 

Fast forward three hours later, after eating a couple of Lina McCartney red pepper and chorizo sausages, the fluids were flowing from my mouth (tmi?), my migraine was in full swing and I had to lie down in a pitch-black room from 3pm onwards. 

The answer is of course for me to stop drinking, indefinitely.

With every hangover, I question what really is the point?  I wasted a day in bed, while my deadlines remain unfinished and yet looming ever closer.  I fail life when I have a hangover.

I have discussed my relationship with alcohol regularly on the blog, however this is the first time I have really thought about giving it up for good. Perhaps taking a leaf out of Billie JD Porter’s book?  I do not know the answers, all I do know is that something has to change.

Yours sincerely, a hungover E x

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