The death of the party girl

Wow. What a weekend. But perhaps not as you might think. Wow did it suck.

The strange thing is that nothing bad actually happened. I just had this overwhelming feeling of sinking faster than I could swim. I had a great night on Friday. We had friends over for dinner and I genuinely enjoyed myself even though I was sober.  I was starting to feel like I was making some progress.

Then Saturday dawned. The day of tears. It seemed that everything that happened caused me to spring a leak. I bumped my head. It didn’t hurt in the slightest but it made me cry for half an hour. Shaun broke my egg cup and holy hell! He might as well have killed one of the cats. I definitely prefer the tears to the bitchiness of last time, but bloody hell is it exhausting.

Saturday night was the hardest. By the time bed time rolled around I was so sapped of energy that I couldn’t function. I went to bed and had two good hours sleep before my phone rang. By the time I realised what was going on, it had stopped. I looked at the clock and it was midnight. The missed call was from a friend that never calls in the middle of the night so I thought I’d better check the message. Bad move. It was several of my friends calling to say what a great night out they were having and what a shame that I couldn’t come. Ouch. I lay awake hurting for a while.

I finally drifted off in time for the next message. This time it was a text giving me a blow by blow breakdown of the night. The texting continued until the coupe de grace some time between 3 and 4am, which was a photo of them with my brother drinking my signature drink. Now on an average day, I’d see that for how they meant it. They wished I was there and were trying to make me feel included. But that’s not how it felt at the time.

I lay awake for the rest of the night crying and feeling hurt and sorry for myself.

I had to cancel lunch with them yesterday because I was too fragile to talk about it without getting emotional.

I guess the thing that I’m finding hardest about all of this is other people’s reactions. I know it sucks that I can’t drink. I know my friends miss me. I know I’m just not the same being the only sober one at the party, but hell, I don’t need to be reminded. How about the fact that I’m at least making an effort to go?

Sensitivity people. Please. I’m a walking tear bomb.


5 thoughts on “The death of the party girl

  1. Just remember what the outcome of all this going to be. Another little human bean thats going to spend the next decade looking adoringly at you and hanging on to every word.

    Oh and this last saturday we had a fantastic afternoon with some mates at bbq and no one drank more than a few beers. So it is indeed possible to laugh and have fun sober.. 😛 😛

  2. So it is indeed possible to laugh and have fun sober..

    Of course it is! The thing that I find difficult is being the only one that isn’t drinking. It’s not so much the actual drinking either. It’s more just the missing out.

  3. Are you the only ones of your friends married and settling down? Which is not a bad thing by the way. Unlike some people think. It’s the next stage of life after going out all night getting pissed. We all outgrew that sort of thing in our twenties.

    You never seem to mention friends like that who could support you. Are you older than the rest 😉

  4. I actually only have one friend that I can think of that isn’t married or in a serious relationship. And a fair few of them have or are having kids now, but because the nature of their lives has changed, I spend less time with them now that they have families.

    Also, to be honest, I don’t really like kids all that much. I know that sounds weird, but I’m guessing it’ll be different with my own.

    My rational self doesn’t doubt for a moment that once I have a child I’ll spend a lot more time with my friends that have families and the nature of my socialising will change.

    That doesn’t change the fact that I’m mourning what I’m leaving behind.

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