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Photo 5-05-2015 11 58 59 pm

I have spent the whole day working on uni assignments so writing here feels like a holiday or, at the very least, a breath of fresh air. I get to write about what I want, how I want! Yay! And what I want to write about is how my pact of good behaviour is going (you might remember it from this post a little while back).

My partner and me were trying to be good – less partying, drinking, etc. We’d been doing pretty good. Had gone almost a month without being hungover, a pretty excellent feat for us. We were feeling pretty chuffed with ourselves as well. Being all productive and shit. Going to the gym, managing our days, getting up and doing stuff, healthy stuff like playing tennis and going for long walks. Unheard of shit on a weekend, really. Usually we’d be holed up on the couch feeling sorry for ourselves at least one day out of the weekend (usually Sunday or sometimes Monday – being as we work in hospitality and all). But not lately, oh no, we’d changed. We were different now.

Well, that all fell to pieces on Sunday gone. We went into the night quite confidently but quickly got swept up in the excitement of it all. We didn’t have ready access to water so, within a short space of time, we were tipsy, then drunk, then the night spiralled out of control. We beat out curfew home but sadly brought other people back with us (one of the no-nos in our team pact), which meant we were up until about 5am (so yes, we may have been home but we broke curfew by being up past our self-imposed Cinderella hour). Not ideal, really.

And then the hangover. Oh my god. I definitely hadn’t missed that. We looked at each other the next morning while wallowing in our self-pity, full of shame and regret, and said, “We don’t want to do this to ourselves anymore”. Maybe what we needed was that one more hangover for it to sink home.

Cue: intense soul searching, general chest-beating and why-oh-whys: What’s the purpose of this extreme partying? Did I have that much more fun compared to the direness of my hangover? Was I celebrating anything particularly amazing that required extra effort? Is the answer to these questions a resounding no (aside from Q1, which is open ended and requires a more elaborate answer)? THEN WHAT THE FUCK, WOMAN?

Ugh, and then the hangover rolled into the following day. My god. I had still been having fun nights out, coming home at a reasonable time and getting up the next day and being productive. That is what I want to get to. I don’t want to say I never want to have a big night out ever again. But not for no reason at all. Not just because I don’t have any will power or self control.

I know these things take time. I know it’s a habit that’s tied up in how we interact with other people socially. I know. I know. I know these things. I also want to know that this is something that’s achievable and, right now, I’m not sure that it is. I want it to be. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough.

Image courtesy of Sarah1627 | Pinterest

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