I remember my first hangover.  I was  in my teens.  My parents were firm believers that I should experience booze in the home so that I would more able to handle it when I was away from home and in fairness to them I always got home and rarely did anything that I lived to regret so the theory held true.  On this particular occasion they had bought me some Strongbow and I installed myself in front of the television watching movies well after they had gone to bed.  I passed out on the beanbag and woke up in the morning feeling like that guy in the original ‘Total Recall’ that has a spike put through one side of his head.   I drank water and took a painkiller and felt better.  It didn’t stop me drinking again.

On Saturday, after overindulging on my first day back on the demon drink, I woke up with a mildish headache and feeling woozy.  I wasn’t sick, which I considered a bonus, but due to lack of good sleep having been awake since 4am, the persistent headache, and the dizziness I decided to stay put.  Pete was good enough to bring me food and water and even at one point a beer in the hope that it would fix me but the symptoms remained until about 930 in the evening when I unexpectedly vomited and then finally started to pick up.  Pete, by this stage, was exhausted himself having been taking care of the home on his own with something of his own hangover to deal with, and wanted to go to sleep.  So I turned out the lights rolled over and, against all probably given I had been in bed all day, fell straight to sleep myself.  You might have hoped that this would have been an end to it but I woke with much the same kind of pain as I had the previous morning,  experience told me that this was almost certainly tension, a mixture of my time in bed and my frustration with myself causing all my muscles to tense but try telling yourself to relax when you have a headache.  More painkillers and finally by midday I felt better.

All I did the whole time I was in bed was reminisce about the days when I would have gone to bed with a camomile tea and felt fine in the morning.

I’m not planning on having a drink today.  I’m not entirely when I am planning on having another drink.  I’m not going to say that it’s never but…I truly feel like some perspectives have been changed.  Alcohol has always been a part of my life but as much as it has been comforting and familiar I’m starting to wonder if it really makes me happy.  I have a horrible feeling, given that I was reading quantum physics and new age philosophy as a youngster that what makes me happy is something that most of the rest of you will find dull and rather airy fairy.

Tomorrow morning I will get up shortly after Pete, it’s never easy even when I’m not hungover, maybe 630 or 645.  I will contract my uddiyana banda and do some belly flapping and hope that that will wake me up.  Once I’ve seen Pete out the door and done some housework I may go cycling and I will certainly do more yoga, probably about 45 minutes to an hours worth.  I will write and drink lots of herbal tea. I will eat lots of fruit, have soup or salad for my lunch and I might go swimming in the afternoon.  I will struggle to find time to read and to practice my guitar.  I will go to bed with a camomile tea and feel good about myself.

As with all things it’s one day at a time.  But I feel different now so maybe I am different now.



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