Holy Mary Mother of God – who let the dogs out – turn down the freaking music – stop talking so loud – should I stay or should I go and why can’t I get my ass out of bed?? Oh – oh – yeah – that’s right. It was a school night and somebody was serving up some low end vodka and this old girl needs a lobotomy….
Not sure exactly when it happened. Between the ages of 35 and 40 I think. When a school night really did become a school night and the drink really did make a difference in the whole way I was feeling the very next day. Back in the day – and oh yeah – I mean way back in the day – I could party with the best of them. There are more times than I can count that I would go to school and work all day – fly home and stuff a pretzel in my mouth – take a shower and put on my best Joan Jett ensemble – jump on the motorcycle and head out to party like the rock star I really almost was. Dancing and laughing and messing around with strangers and making up stories and drinking everything and anything that was being poured. Hopping from scene to scene and ending up on the lakefront watching that sun come up over the water – just in time to sober up and head home to sleep for about a minute – jump in that shower and head out to do the same thing all over again. Those were the days my friends.
Turn the page and look at the face screaming at me in the mirror after a simple Tuesday night out with friends. I mean really – 3 or 4 drinks over food and friendly banter could not possibly do this girl any harm. But – 3 or 4 drinks made with cheap ass lower than well alcohol can send this woman into a deep nasty hurt me oh so not so good kind of hangover that should be reserved for only the most vile of our enemies. No – really – this kind of disorientation, lost time, pain, moaning oh why me kind of suffering cannot be wished upon anyone – losing a day out of my life for poor drink selection. I am such a disappointment to my well trained, well traveled, well marinated Irish heart….
This really is not about drinking and partying like a mad woman when I should really be home catching up on Grey’s Anatomy and Mad Men. This is not about justifying or defining what it was that took my ass out of commission for over 18 hours – had my head wrapped in a cool wet towel while I meditated to all that is holy to just please please let me live again. This is not about how much it sucks getting older and less capable of handling the bottom shelf options and all that that implies – this is not about that at all.
This is about survival – learning from our mistakes and actually living by those well intended words we mumbled and slurred through our hazy recovery….”Dear God in heaven – please just let me live – and I promise with all that is good and holy – never again.”
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About K. Guzman
Kathy grew up all over the US - lots of east coast time. She is a surfer girl with an unabridged curiosity. A woman whose mid life awakening continues to bring her to the place she was meant to be. Her degree in Journalism/Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida is being yanked from the archives and put to good use. Her two kids are grown and rock stars in this wild world – her Harley is ready for some serious summer miles – and her heart remains open to life, women and the possibilities each day brings.