Dry January started on January 1, if your calendar works like normal people’s calendars. My calendar was unintentionally a little more flexible.
New Year’s Eve is low key for us because I don’t like to go out and be around all the drunk people and then be on the roads with them (HA – behold my moral superiority). I fell asleep at 7:30 and scooted up to bed around 8:30, after watching a few minutes of the New York Philharmonic playing Sondheim show tunes.
I was excited to start Dry January and looking forward to a yoga class at noon with some old friends from high school.
Yoga was AMAZING. It was a gentle, restful practice (until we got to the laughter yoga part). By the time class was over I felt taller, stretched out, and happier than I’d felt in ages.
When I got home I saw the bottle of wine from the night before on the counter. I *knew* I should have listened to Wise Old Owl and poured it down the drain the second I woke up, but I didn’t.
Drunken Little Birdie started chattering about how I wouldn’t want to waste that wine, would I? After all, I’d bought a very nice bottle of wine because I knew it would be the last time I got to enjoy it until February 1 – it wouldn’t keep until then.
There was only one glass left in the bottle so I figured that was harmless. I’d have the wine to shut Drunken Little Birdie up and then go about my day.
That’s not what happened, because Drunken Little Birdie also noticed that there was some gin hanging out on the counter. Since she doesn’t have an off switch she made a dirty martini. And then another.
Not only did I fuck up Dry January already, I also woke up the next day with a mahoosive hangover – headache, upset stomach, and all.
All the good feelings I’d cultivated doing yoga were gone. I was dehydrated, depressed, and demoralized.
Drunken Little Birdie attempted a victory lap, telling me I’d already ruined Dry January so I should just grab a bottle of wine on the way home from work. I still felt awful so I skipped it.
Drunken Little Birdie: 1
Sober Birdie: 1
This morning I’ve been putting off getting on the treadmill. My morning is a little more flexible today as I have a school appointment, so I’d been making excuse after excuse to keep putting it off.
When The Kid got in the van and left for school, I sat down for a minute and considered my plan for the rest of the day. Snow squall warnings had been blowing up my phone every half hour and rattling my already jangly nerves.
Wise Old Owl reminded me of the yoga class on January 1, and how amazing I felt afterward. She also reminded me that after I walk for awhile, some of those same feelings can happen again right here at home.
So I put my sneakers on and walked.
And I feel better.
Maybe a big part of this is just creating new connections in my brain. Being still and letting Wise Old Owl rule the roost for a change.
Drinking wine at the end of the day used to relax me and make me feel better. But for longer than I can think back, it’s also made me tired and useless the next day. I’ve been stuck in that feedback loop for ages and it’s time to step out of it.