Let me preface this post with the fact that I already realize how stupid it will sound. But, in the interest of full disclosure and true self-reflection, I feel compelled to put this into writing.
It's hard for me to admit, but I've come to the realization that I can't handle my alcohol. Let's not get confused here, though - I do not, in any way, have a drinking problem. There is a difference. Let me explain...
I don't particularly like "to drink". I loooove wine, and enjoy a good glass or two, red or white (but never blush), every now and then. At dinner, after a stressful day, out with friends...a glass of wine is just fantastic. But, I am never one to go out with the intention on getting smashed. Sure, maybe back in the old college days this was more of my intention, but even then I still was nowhere close to the way that most typical college students are. I could handle it back then, though, so it was ok. I could go out, have a good time, and that was it.
Maybe my body has changed, maybe it's because life is a lot more complicated now, maybe it's because I've changed, but whatever the reason, I cannot handle my alcohol anymore. I am very in tune with my body and I know (and respect) my limits. I very rarely go past my limit when it comes to drinking. Nine point nine times out of ten, I will have a drink, maybe two, and I am happy and, more importantly, I am finished. But (and I'm sure this happens to everyone) once in a great while, I go past my limit. It's never intentional, and it's usually way too late before I realize it, but it happens. And that's where the trouble is. And what is the trouble, you might ask?
First, I get mean, and then I get emotional. I usually try to pick a fight with anyone in my path, then I yell, and then I cry. Ugh! It's so embarrassing just knowing this, never mind writing it and posting it on my blog. It's embarrassing to me for several reasons: (1) I am a private person and I hate to show weakness to anyone; (2) I have always prided myself on being a strong and confident woman, and this behavior, although extremely rare, makes me question myself, which I never, ever should do; and (3) It's completely foolish and totally preventable. Thankfully, I have an extremely understanding husband who always makes me feel infinitely better after an "incident", but I cannot let his compassion excuse my behavior. It is not ok...ever.
By putting this into writing, it makes it much more real and I can no longer ignore, minimize or deny it. No matter how rare it is, I refuse to let it happen again, not for anyone else but myself. Because I demand more from myself. Because I deserve more for myself. Because my personal mission is perfectly clear: To live my best life. To be the best person I know how to be. To be grateful for even the smallest things in life. To live according to my own expectations, not the world's. To live to impress, improve and inspire myself. To live with integrity. To live without regrets. To live my dreams, not dream my life. I acknowledge and take pride in the fact that my life is in my own control, to do with it what I choose...and I choose to be happy. My thoughts , feelings, emotions, and actions are my own. Everyday I make a conscious decision to do the best and be the best that I can.
And I will, because when I set my mind to it, I can do anything. As the plaque that my husband gave to me the day that I ran the Cape Cod Marathon says: "The achievement of your goal is assured the moment you commit yourself to it."
