I felt like absolute shit on Sunday morning. So much so that I had to cancel a visit to Kew Gardens with a friend. I’m a people pleaser so the act of cancelling itself was a tough one. To make matters worse I had to admit that it was self inflicted. I blimmin had a hangover. I didn’t do hangovers until 3yrs ago. And this one hurt!

As I lay in bed feeling guilty for letting someone down, I also felt guilty for overspending at the weekend. So I figured whilst I was having an impromptu pity party to invite more guilt to join in. I may as well add the guilt I constantly had about being lazy – which led to guilt that I hadn’t started writing my weekly blog post. 

Usually a blog idea comes to me in the week and I start making notes on what I am going to write about. Switching from my iPad to my phone before merging the notes together and constructing the final piece. I then read it. Re-read it. Add bits. Take words away. Read. Edit. Re-read. Deep breath……….and post. 

This time I had a list of topics that I could write about. I had actually been organised and wrote them down:

  • Money
  • Social media habits 
  • Security and stability 
  • Being single (and what I’m going to do about it)
  • Writing a novel
  • Confrontation and rejection

That list was as far as I’d got. My usual routine didn’t take hold and no further inspiration was coming to me. 

Even if I wanted to write that morning it wasn’t going to happen, as I had actually lost the ability to even text a few words. My fingers had clearly been affected by the alcohol. Predictive text wasn’t equipped to deal with my inability to put words together. I was mmmmmmmmmmmm’ing all over the screen instead of deleting misspelled words. 

Tiredness, pain, brain fog, useless fingers and all the guilt was just too much for me to handle. Unable to sleep it off. I took my sorry self – very slowly, bent over in an almost 90 degree angle, into the living-room. Pulling my duvet behind me. 

You know it’s a bad day when you take your duvet to the sofa!

Pretty Woman was on the TV, my housemate had made me food and I was cocooned in my covers. My eyes suddenly sprung a leak! I admitted to my housemate that I was crying and I couldn’t detect why. 

Was it at Julia Roberts (it wasn’t even a sad part of the film), my headache, feeling sick or the fact that I was struggling to eat my food? I didn’t have a fucking clue!

Hook was the next film to turn me into a blubbering mess. I turned to my housemate and said. “Why the fuck am I crying at the little boy?”. Tears are streaming down my face and I’m laughing at how feeble I’d become. 

I basically cried the rest of the way through Hook and decided after that the best place for me was bed. Back to the pity party I tried to escape from. This time I allowed myself to sit with the feelings. Letting them rock me to sleep. 

I woke up feeling comforted by some of the messages I received in my dreams. Signs telling me to ‘let go of control’ and to ‘put things into perspective!’

I thought back to the conversation I’d had with a friend when we met on Saturday. 

I initially shared my ‘writers block’ with her. When I realised that she was listening to me on a deep level, with no judgement, no fixing, no token words of comfort. I started to divulge more information about myself. 

I was being vulnerable…….. to someone…………..in the flesh! Not hidden behind my written words – protected by a screen. 

I told her of my new fears. Experiences from my past. The times that I’d been anxious and had panic attacks. I told her about the anxiety that had surfaced due to my blog: I’d bitten off more than I could chew. I didn’t feel up to it. I’d made a rod for my back. That I haven’t really got a talent. That I was scared of the unknown……….

I was bringing light to my fears and she let me. She listened. She gave me space to talk. Through that – being able to air my views without interruption I was able to get out to the other side. 

I welcomed her suggestions of: not trying to compete with myself, not having to post my blog at a certain time. And the piece de resistance – to go out and enjoy myself. So I did! 

Hence the hangover! 

A lightbulb moment took place and my guilt slowly started to subside! 

My year of vulnerability wasn’t set up to be a blog originally. I didn’t need to control when I made a post. It also didn’t matter how many people read my posts or how meaningful the posts were to others. Although if someone is inspired or helped in any way by anything I share – that is a wonderful bonus.   

But this year is about me – finding peace with being vulnerable me! 

I was then able to look back at the weekend as a gift. 

Plus, I had been vulnerable that week: 

  • I sat in front of someone and was open! I spoke my truth and I did it without worrying what she thought of me. 
  • I went to a writers book club and introduced myself as an author. Joining forces with people further along their writers path than I was. 
  • I had my first volunteer shift at a Youth Centre – connecting with teenagers over Monopoly, card games, air hockey and pool. 

On more than once occasion I had been out of my comfort zone. 

And just like that, my hangover was gone and more importantly I was able to leave the pity party and duvet on my bed. 

The lessons I learnt – for the umpteenth time – were to:

  • confront my feelings. 
  • embrace myself as a complex being –  a puzzle that will never be solved. 
  • see this as a rocky part of a continuous journey. 
  • celebrate how far I’d actually come. 
  • Lighten up. 

And to make peace with the fact that I like to party! 

Emma x

p.s. Speaking of parties – I’ve finally braved it and bought a ticket to a dating event!! A silent dating event🤐

Watch this space……..


Instagram: @emmalouhalliday