Isn’t that a Spice Girls song? Or am I getting confused with “Who do you think you are?” Kind of opposite my intended meaning, however had I actually said my post title out loud, I’m sure the receiver would have been quoting the Spice Girls.
Every so often, not too much thankfully (because to say the above would mean I’m in a not-very-good-situation) but I’ve had the feeling of wanting to say something along the lines of that.
In particular in relation to my job, if I’ve felt I was going to get unwelcome, in particular unfair trouble/treatment for whatever reason, I’ve had the strongest inclination to say “Do you know where I work?”
It’s something that naturally comes with working where I work, at a particular ‘influential’ media company, with ‘influential’ media contacts, and lots of other people I work with, have both admitted to thinking/doing the same, and encouraging the same. If you have it, you gotta use it, true?
Although I’m not one to take advantage of, guilt people into, or blackmail others into certain ‘desirable’ outcomes for myself, like I said, only when I felt I was getting inappropriate treatment did this thought cross my mind. Never have I used it.
A couple of weeks ago, something happened, that rather than make me want to say “Do you know where I work?” made me want to say something that only the biggest nose-in-the-air stuck-up celebs would say. I was soooo close.
I’d made my hair cut appointment over a month before the busy/crazy festive month. I’m never this early or organised with my hair, only just getting in before Christmas each year, but this time I was there at the hairdressers for a hair cut in October, and I thought “why not? I’ll be organised.”
So I made it.
Then something/someone broke my windscreen. I don’t know who/what it was, whether it was intentional or not, but one morning I got into my car, and there was a crack in the top right, and it proceeded to get longer and extend to the middle of the window over the next couple of days.
I initially freaked out. I thought the windscreen would shatter and cave in on me at any point in my driving. I was yet to find out that I could drive like that for 3 years (not that I wanted to), and in my freaked out state I had to IMMEDIATELY get it fixed.
The only day the guy could fix it, was a day I felt I already had an appointment. But I made the windscreen appointment anyway.
I called up my hairdresser’s, hoping whoever answered wouldn’t tell me what I already suspected. Yes I’d made the appointment so many months earlier, only I hadn’t been organised enough to write down the date. When I found out that the time of the hair cut coincided with the windscreen getting fixed, well I felt I had to cancel my hair cut appointment – I felt it was a matter of safety.
A bit disappointed, I informed the girl that I had to cancel, and asked her what other times I could see my usual hairdresser.
No times. Not that week or the one other.
I took a deep breath, and asked about getting my hair cut by the owner. He’s cut my hair a few times, and he actually knows me really well. I’ve been going there for so long, and he’s always really polite and friendly to me, and treats me almost like we’re friends. On several occasions he’s even bent over backwards to get me in, because I’m such a loyal customer.
No free times for him either. Not that week or the one other.
And then they were on leave ‘til end of Jan. END OF ‘JAN.
I was quite upset, and mad, but asked to get my name and number down so they could call me if there was a cancellation. Surely there’d be a cancellation.
In the meantime, the windscreen man cancelled on me, 10 minutes late into the time he was meant to come and fix it. I told him not to worry about coming another time, and then screamed the house down when I hung up. I was having a bad week.
At about the same time I got a voicemail message from the hairdresser owner, telling me someone had cancelled. I was really excited calling back, until I realised the date he’d given was actually a date I was already booked with something else. I wasn’t going to cancel my work Christmas party for a haircut, no matter how much my split ends needed to be removed.
I asked to speak to him – it was the same girl who told me there were no bookings available the first time around – and when she asked why, I explained he’d left a message for me. She returned in less than 10 seconds, informing me he’d made a mistake and hadn’t seen the message that I actually couldn’t come in on the day he suggested. I knew that, I just wanted to talk to him and get him to help me! I knew, I felt, that if he actually spoke to me, HE would squeeze me in, because HE knew how important I was. “Do you know who I am? How long I’ve been going there?” I wanted to scream into the phone. But I didn’t scream it. I tried to remain calm.
I was soooo mad. I devised a plan to ‘swing by’ the salon after work the following week, even if they hadn’t called me, just so I could see him ‘in person’ and make a ‘booking’ for the following YEAR.
When I came in, perhaps right near their closing time, I found:
Owner
Woman with child (child appeared to be getting hair cut), &
Said women from phone with her hair in foils.
AHEM. IN FOILS.
So it appeared that two people were working, and only one was paying. They couldn’t fucking get me in, a loyal customer, for a simple haircut, but they could put foils in the hair of a non-paying employee. I was soooo shitty.
Owner seemed to be aware they’d been trying to get me in though. That’s what I found surprising. He asked when I was coming in next, and I said with some bite ‘next year.’ I couldn’t follow through though, and still said a nice goodbye and ‘Merry Christmas’ – but really thinking of the scenario there over and over, I felt they could have treated me better, and at least tried. Considering it was their last week of Christmas trading hours, they didn’t look busy AT ALL.
Maybe owner didn’t know I had previously booked, and had to cancel due to what I temporarily though was a safety emergency – I certainly didn’t tell the girl, but she knew I’d booked months earlier, I told her that much.
Maybe I should have asked to speak to said owner from the start, in order to avoid all these ‘what if’s’ and urgencies to scream “Do you know who I am?” through the phone receiver. Maybe he would have helped me out more. She doesn’t know who I am, after all.
However, it didn’t appear I was anyone, from the moderate, average treatment I got when I walked into the salon unexpectedly that day… from the lack of treatment I received.
I’m booked in with him in late Jan. On the first day they come back. Gosh I hope he comments on my split ends. I intend on making him feel soooooo guilty.
Because clearly he’s forgotten who I am.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Friday, December 28, 2012
Monday, April 4, 2011
French Kiss the Morning
Prior to my affogato burst early last week, I was buzzing on something entirely different the previous Saturday night.
Cosmopolitans.
And because of that, I don't think I'll be having any Cosmo's for a LOOONNNNGGGG time.
Let me explain.
It was one of our closest friend's 30th birthday that weekend. Her and her husband, being big spenders, had a pretty extravagant evening planned. A group of 10 of us, were driven over to an exclusive waterfront restaurant, had a HUGE 3 course meal feast, PLENTY of drinks, and then were all driven to a city bar, where we continued to drink, and drink, and drink.... (and dance on podiums....!)
Boy did I pay for it the next day. Following a night, where I had one glass of wine, and about 7-8 Cosmopolitans, it took all the energy I had to keep awake on the drive home. Because I knew if I fell asleep, I might chunder, per Men At Work lyrics.
Getting home, I managed to brush my teeth and remove my make-up with one of those handy moisturised make-up removal wipes. As I crashed into bed, with Hubbie already in his 10th dream beside me, I closed my eyes.
And the world started spinning a dizzying black.
I opened them and closed them. I tried to still the blackness, but everything was whir, whir, whirring. And then I just knew what I had to do.
It wasn't so much that I felt it, more than I sensed it. Then again, maybe my purely intoxicated state disguised the nausea I was feeling. I ran to the toilet and vomited.
No. 1.
Nothing unusual here.... the contents I mean. I had clearly had way too many cocktails towards the end of the night, and my stomach was just emptying out the spare fluid. I went back to bed, and can't remember the rest.
The next morning I very slowly woke up. You know when you're waking up, and it takes you a good few minutes to realise you're awake, and not dreaming? Yeah that's called a hangover.
The hilarious thing about this moment of the day, was that I was in bed, 9:30am, thinking I should get up because the alcohol was still in my system and wouldn't let me fall asleep again. Lying there, I remember looking around the bed sheets and going "I need to wash these, I think I'll do that today." I could see bright light peeking through the blinds, and knew the sun would dry my washing quicker. I thought I'd be good, and despite the previous 'big night,' do some cleaning and washing, before Hubbie got home from work (yes poor thing on a Sunday) and we went out again, to a friend's sons 1st birthday.
Yeah right.
As soon as I was upright, I felt my stomach begin to move. And the nausea just kept getting worse. Previous times that I've over-drank and been sick, I've been sick the night of the craziness, rather than the night after. So I couldn't understand why I felt this way, seeing as I'd chucked the night before. I put it down to needing a coffee and some toast to fill my empty belly, and went about, in agony, preparing my breakfast.
I sat down on the couch to watch tv while I ate my brekkie. The only thing I ended up watching was my plate of toast and coffee mug. I couldn't touch it. I couldn't go near it. I was feeling so unwell by this stage, that I started to doubt whether I actually needed any food. But yet again, in my stubborness to see the situation, I decided to have a sip or two of coffee, followed by a bite of toast.
I was trying to talk myself into it. Internally I was like 'yes the coffee is helping, that's all I need.' Several minutes passed before I attempted another bite. As soon as I began to chew though, the wretchedness started moving from my stomach, into my throat.
I ran to the toilet, posing stationary above it. Realising I still had uneaten toast in my mouth, I ran to the kitchen and spat it into a tissue, disposing of it in the bin. Don't ask me why I did this, but I'm glad I did. I ran back to the toilet, and stood there, waiting. But nothing came immediately. Only my mobile started to ring.
Hubbie had already called me once that morning, before I started feeling so bad. So I was highly doubtful of it being him again. I walked over to my phone, and saw 'Dad.'
I paused a second. Should I answer? I decided I would, knowing that I could talk my way out of it, without anyone being none the wiser of my ailing condition. He couldn't see me.
Hahahahahahaha.
I answered, and he was like "Are you awake?"
Suspicion started creeping into me. "Yeah, I'm just having breakfast, why?"
"Oh well me and your mum are standing outside, and all the blinds are closed.... we're going to the plaza, and thought we'd stop by if it's alright, we haven't seen you in a while...."
That, I believe, is the definition of Murphy's Law.
"Oh, yeah, come in, no problems...."
Had I spat my uneaten toast in the toilet, I wouldn't have had time to run back and flush. It was like my sixth sense had been telling me to.... "be clean."
LOL.
I answered the door, still in pyjamas and nightgown, and they sat down. I knew my best bet was to not hide my tiredness, or my big night, because although I could hide my need to be sick, if they thought I was simply tired, they would think me leaning on the couch, all fetal position like, meant I just needed sleep.
Look, my parents are really cool. My Mum surprises me when she says "nooooo, it's not bad that you can see your bra through that see-through top!" and my dad impresses me with his stories of youth and the crazy things he did back then, like getting into jail and stuff :) (He's really, very good, which is why it's funny!) If I was sick, or showed myself to be sick in front of them, they'd just get unnecessarily worried, and that I didn't need. One person was enough for me to worry about, and at that moment I couldn't even look after that one person properly.
(Deep breath, I feel myself getting nauseous just thinking about it!)
So I acted my way through it. I made small chit chat. I willingly offered the previous nights story, and the plans for the rest of the day, then let them do the rest of the talking, only answering when absolutely necessary. The visit only lasted for 10-15 minutes. All the while I breathed, willing the contents of my stomach not to come flying out of me.
I did feel so bad. I didn't want my parents to think my silence meant my not-wanting them to be there. But I hoped they would just put it down to my 'tiredness.'
I stood at the door and waved to them as they drove off. And then I ran upstairs to the toilet. (I don't know why I went upstairs, I think I was more comfortable there, as it was there I'd thrown up the night before.)
And yes I threw up. Anything I'd managed to consume of my breakfast went. As well as I think some of the night before.
I sat back on the couch, my stomach feeling lighter, and less nauseous. I thought, 'good, now I'll wait 'til I'm 100%, then I'll get myself ready for later on.'
Wrong.
I sat there on the couch for over an hour. I managed to get up and walk around, throw my brekkie away, and sit back down on the couch. I was so crook. Then again, up the stairs I went.
I stood in front of the toilet, gagging for ages. And then I vomited. Again.
This time it WAS from last night. And I swear, I tasted something citrus-y that resembled the overly-abused Cosmo's. Ugh.
That was the last time I threw up. I couldn't believe how sick I'd been and how many times I'd thrown up, so long after the fact. The rest of the story goes: Hubbie came home, convinced me that I'd feel better if I started getting ready; through many tears of protest 'I still need to vomit!' I got ready; we drove to the 1st birthday party; I sat in the stationary car, there, holding my plastic bag, swearing I was gonna throw - I didn't; we survived the party, I put on the best show of my life; and I had my first bit of food at 4pm, that didn't reverse back on me - chocolate cake.
I hadn't eaten 'til 4pm. I'd had plenty of water and soda water, oh and bits of turkish bread from Hubbie's meal. I'd been terrified to consume something in case I became a regurgitating monster in front of everyone at the party, a la Exorcist style.
Had some Macca's chips at the end of the night, and some bites of Hubbie's burger, as we sat at home, still tired from the night before, I myself COMPLETELY drained of energy. Yeah, I know, so healthy right.
But the point of all this is the vomiting. My theory is, since I'd broken the vomit-from-overconsumption-of-alcohol seal, my stomach is now more sensitive, and more likely to throw up alcohol (never mind me overconsuming it!)
I'd taken pride my whole life in proclaiming that I'd never vomited from alcohol. I could always say that I'd drank heaps, but felt tough and strong, and alcoholically able in knowing my stomach could withstand any combination of potent fluids I put into it, MWA HA HA!
But then I broke the seal.
Seal Breaker 1:
My second Christmas party at this my current employer. I decided I hadn't been loose enough my first year, so went about in drinking more that year. Ended up in the toilets, throwing up, with a really sweet colleague calling out "Miss S, are you alright?" over the cubicles (she hung around because a male cleaner was in the toilet, I know, how nice of her right?) I blacked out the second half of the night and fell asleep at the club we were at. A window totally was smashed in near me and I missed it all, all because I got drunk and passed out. A friend took me home that night in his car, and for his kind troubles I invited him to my wedding :)
Then, I only threw up that night. I was queasy the next day, but I didn't projectile anything.
Seal Breaker 2:
Blonde's sisters Hen's night, of which I've mentioned in my post "WOW. What a weekend/s, what a week/s." It was the first girls night I'd been out to since I got married. I got WAAYYY too excited, so much so that I just couldn't waste the champagne that was left behind, (part of the complimentary drinks for our party) when the guest of honour and her friends left (yes, Red and I outstayed the hostess). So I drank it all. I said 'I love you' heaps to Red, or so she tells me. She says I was really amusing and funny, and still funny when she and her sister had to practically carry me back to their car. I stopped being funny when I warned of throwing up in her car on the way home.
Hubbie thought I was being funny when I said, "I'm sick, I'm gonna throw up," as I stumbled my way up to our bedroom late that night/early morning. But when he heard me heaving my lungs out in the toilet, he realised he wasn't gonna get any funny-ness that night.
Again. I only threw up that night, and was left nursing my poor stomach the next day.
This time however, my 3rd time, I've broken my seal altogether, as well as breaking a new seal, that of throwing up THE DAY AFTER. I'm getting more and more out of control. However in an effort to not throw up ever again from alcohol (as I sat in my PJs for half of last Sunday, I felt so crap, and made myself remember the feeling so as to not do it ever again) I've found the link between the 3 seal breaker scenarios, and realise the circumstance under which I must be careful of going overboard. It's simple really.
All 3 times I said to myself internally "I'm gonna make the most of tonight."
It's simple enough yes I know. And most times you would imagine anyone to want to have a great night out, it's practically a given. However, when I look at my watch, and start realising the night is ending, I kick it up a notch, turn it up a gear, and start getting really crazy. And that's what happened all these 3 times. That and all 3 times I wasn't driving.
My warning thoughts are as follows:
* wanting to have a really good time, because I haven't partied in ages
* wanting to have a really good time, because I want to make the most of it
* wanting to have a really good time, because I didn't make the most of it last time
* wanting to have a really good time, because I'm not driving
* wanting to have a really good time, just for no reason at all
So there has it. I've discovered my internal mental cues, the 'warning signs,' to a potentially messy night. All because I broke my alcoholic seal. Stupid.
Cosmopolitans.
And because of that, I don't think I'll be having any Cosmo's for a LOOONNNNGGGG time.
Let me explain.
It was one of our closest friend's 30th birthday that weekend. Her and her husband, being big spenders, had a pretty extravagant evening planned. A group of 10 of us, were driven over to an exclusive waterfront restaurant, had a HUGE 3 course meal feast, PLENTY of drinks, and then were all driven to a city bar, where we continued to drink, and drink, and drink.... (and dance on podiums....!)
Boy did I pay for it the next day. Following a night, where I had one glass of wine, and about 7-8 Cosmopolitans, it took all the energy I had to keep awake on the drive home. Because I knew if I fell asleep, I might chunder, per Men At Work lyrics.
Getting home, I managed to brush my teeth and remove my make-up with one of those handy moisturised make-up removal wipes. As I crashed into bed, with Hubbie already in his 10th dream beside me, I closed my eyes.
And the world started spinning a dizzying black.
I opened them and closed them. I tried to still the blackness, but everything was whir, whir, whirring. And then I just knew what I had to do.
It wasn't so much that I felt it, more than I sensed it. Then again, maybe my purely intoxicated state disguised the nausea I was feeling. I ran to the toilet and vomited.
No. 1.
Nothing unusual here.... the contents I mean. I had clearly had way too many cocktails towards the end of the night, and my stomach was just emptying out the spare fluid. I went back to bed, and can't remember the rest.
The next morning I very slowly woke up. You know when you're waking up, and it takes you a good few minutes to realise you're awake, and not dreaming? Yeah that's called a hangover.
The hilarious thing about this moment of the day, was that I was in bed, 9:30am, thinking I should get up because the alcohol was still in my system and wouldn't let me fall asleep again. Lying there, I remember looking around the bed sheets and going "I need to wash these, I think I'll do that today." I could see bright light peeking through the blinds, and knew the sun would dry my washing quicker. I thought I'd be good, and despite the previous 'big night,' do some cleaning and washing, before Hubbie got home from work (yes poor thing on a Sunday) and we went out again, to a friend's sons 1st birthday.
Yeah right.
As soon as I was upright, I felt my stomach begin to move. And the nausea just kept getting worse. Previous times that I've over-drank and been sick, I've been sick the night of the craziness, rather than the night after. So I couldn't understand why I felt this way, seeing as I'd chucked the night before. I put it down to needing a coffee and some toast to fill my empty belly, and went about, in agony, preparing my breakfast.
I sat down on the couch to watch tv while I ate my brekkie. The only thing I ended up watching was my plate of toast and coffee mug. I couldn't touch it. I couldn't go near it. I was feeling so unwell by this stage, that I started to doubt whether I actually needed any food. But yet again, in my stubborness to see the situation, I decided to have a sip or two of coffee, followed by a bite of toast.
I was trying to talk myself into it. Internally I was like 'yes the coffee is helping, that's all I need.' Several minutes passed before I attempted another bite. As soon as I began to chew though, the wretchedness started moving from my stomach, into my throat.
I ran to the toilet, posing stationary above it. Realising I still had uneaten toast in my mouth, I ran to the kitchen and spat it into a tissue, disposing of it in the bin. Don't ask me why I did this, but I'm glad I did. I ran back to the toilet, and stood there, waiting. But nothing came immediately. Only my mobile started to ring.
Hubbie had already called me once that morning, before I started feeling so bad. So I was highly doubtful of it being him again. I walked over to my phone, and saw 'Dad.'
I paused a second. Should I answer? I decided I would, knowing that I could talk my way out of it, without anyone being none the wiser of my ailing condition. He couldn't see me.
Hahahahahahaha.
I answered, and he was like "Are you awake?"
Suspicion started creeping into me. "Yeah, I'm just having breakfast, why?"
"Oh well me and your mum are standing outside, and all the blinds are closed.... we're going to the plaza, and thought we'd stop by if it's alright, we haven't seen you in a while...."
That, I believe, is the definition of Murphy's Law.
"Oh, yeah, come in, no problems...."
Had I spat my uneaten toast in the toilet, I wouldn't have had time to run back and flush. It was like my sixth sense had been telling me to.... "be clean."
LOL.
I answered the door, still in pyjamas and nightgown, and they sat down. I knew my best bet was to not hide my tiredness, or my big night, because although I could hide my need to be sick, if they thought I was simply tired, they would think me leaning on the couch, all fetal position like, meant I just needed sleep.
Look, my parents are really cool. My Mum surprises me when she says "nooooo, it's not bad that you can see your bra through that see-through top!" and my dad impresses me with his stories of youth and the crazy things he did back then, like getting into jail and stuff :) (He's really, very good, which is why it's funny!) If I was sick, or showed myself to be sick in front of them, they'd just get unnecessarily worried, and that I didn't need. One person was enough for me to worry about, and at that moment I couldn't even look after that one person properly.
(Deep breath, I feel myself getting nauseous just thinking about it!)
So I acted my way through it. I made small chit chat. I willingly offered the previous nights story, and the plans for the rest of the day, then let them do the rest of the talking, only answering when absolutely necessary. The visit only lasted for 10-15 minutes. All the while I breathed, willing the contents of my stomach not to come flying out of me.
I did feel so bad. I didn't want my parents to think my silence meant my not-wanting them to be there. But I hoped they would just put it down to my 'tiredness.'
I stood at the door and waved to them as they drove off. And then I ran upstairs to the toilet. (I don't know why I went upstairs, I think I was more comfortable there, as it was there I'd thrown up the night before.)
And yes I threw up. Anything I'd managed to consume of my breakfast went. As well as I think some of the night before.
I sat back on the couch, my stomach feeling lighter, and less nauseous. I thought, 'good, now I'll wait 'til I'm 100%, then I'll get myself ready for later on.'
Wrong.
I sat there on the couch for over an hour. I managed to get up and walk around, throw my brekkie away, and sit back down on the couch. I was so crook. Then again, up the stairs I went.
I stood in front of the toilet, gagging for ages. And then I vomited. Again.
This time it WAS from last night. And I swear, I tasted something citrus-y that resembled the overly-abused Cosmo's. Ugh.
That was the last time I threw up. I couldn't believe how sick I'd been and how many times I'd thrown up, so long after the fact. The rest of the story goes: Hubbie came home, convinced me that I'd feel better if I started getting ready; through many tears of protest 'I still need to vomit!' I got ready; we drove to the 1st birthday party; I sat in the stationary car, there, holding my plastic bag, swearing I was gonna throw - I didn't; we survived the party, I put on the best show of my life; and I had my first bit of food at 4pm, that didn't reverse back on me - chocolate cake.
I hadn't eaten 'til 4pm. I'd had plenty of water and soda water, oh and bits of turkish bread from Hubbie's meal. I'd been terrified to consume something in case I became a regurgitating monster in front of everyone at the party, a la Exorcist style.
Had some Macca's chips at the end of the night, and some bites of Hubbie's burger, as we sat at home, still tired from the night before, I myself COMPLETELY drained of energy. Yeah, I know, so healthy right.
But the point of all this is the vomiting. My theory is, since I'd broken the vomit-from-overconsumption-of-alcohol seal, my stomach is now more sensitive, and more likely to throw up alcohol (never mind me overconsuming it!)
I'd taken pride my whole life in proclaiming that I'd never vomited from alcohol. I could always say that I'd drank heaps, but felt tough and strong, and alcoholically able in knowing my stomach could withstand any combination of potent fluids I put into it, MWA HA HA!
But then I broke the seal.
Seal Breaker 1:
My second Christmas party at this my current employer. I decided I hadn't been loose enough my first year, so went about in drinking more that year. Ended up in the toilets, throwing up, with a really sweet colleague calling out "Miss S, are you alright?" over the cubicles (she hung around because a male cleaner was in the toilet, I know, how nice of her right?) I blacked out the second half of the night and fell asleep at the club we were at. A window totally was smashed in near me and I missed it all, all because I got drunk and passed out. A friend took me home that night in his car, and for his kind troubles I invited him to my wedding :)
Then, I only threw up that night. I was queasy the next day, but I didn't projectile anything.
Seal Breaker 2:
Blonde's sisters Hen's night, of which I've mentioned in my post "WOW. What a weekend/s, what a week/s." It was the first girls night I'd been out to since I got married. I got WAAYYY too excited, so much so that I just couldn't waste the champagne that was left behind, (part of the complimentary drinks for our party) when the guest of honour and her friends left (yes, Red and I outstayed the hostess). So I drank it all. I said 'I love you' heaps to Red, or so she tells me. She says I was really amusing and funny, and still funny when she and her sister had to practically carry me back to their car. I stopped being funny when I warned of throwing up in her car on the way home.
Hubbie thought I was being funny when I said, "I'm sick, I'm gonna throw up," as I stumbled my way up to our bedroom late that night/early morning. But when he heard me heaving my lungs out in the toilet, he realised he wasn't gonna get any funny-ness that night.
Again. I only threw up that night, and was left nursing my poor stomach the next day.
This time however, my 3rd time, I've broken my seal altogether, as well as breaking a new seal, that of throwing up THE DAY AFTER. I'm getting more and more out of control. However in an effort to not throw up ever again from alcohol (as I sat in my PJs for half of last Sunday, I felt so crap, and made myself remember the feeling so as to not do it ever again) I've found the link between the 3 seal breaker scenarios, and realise the circumstance under which I must be careful of going overboard. It's simple really.
All 3 times I said to myself internally "I'm gonna make the most of tonight."
It's simple enough yes I know. And most times you would imagine anyone to want to have a great night out, it's practically a given. However, when I look at my watch, and start realising the night is ending, I kick it up a notch, turn it up a gear, and start getting really crazy. And that's what happened all these 3 times. That and all 3 times I wasn't driving.
My warning thoughts are as follows:
* wanting to have a really good time, because I haven't partied in ages
* wanting to have a really good time, because I want to make the most of it
* wanting to have a really good time, because I didn't make the most of it last time
* wanting to have a really good time, because I'm not driving
* wanting to have a really good time, just for no reason at all
So there has it. I've discovered my internal mental cues, the 'warning signs,' to a potentially messy night. All because I broke my alcoholic seal. Stupid.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Christmas wishes
Christmas was full of love, happiness, presents, and HEAPS of food and drink, as per usual.
A few things have made me think differently. Change the way I view things, shift my perspective on what irritates me.
As I walked to work early on Christmas Eve, every person I passed, or who walked by me, I wished a great day.
This is how it was in my head:
"I wish you a wonderful day. And you and you. I wish you a great day, I wish you a great day, and you and you....."
and so forth. I don't know, I guess the spirit of the season awakened within me some outpouring of kindness. Not to say I'm not a nice person, but I've never really thought anything like that. I genuinely wished good things for the people around me, from one human being to the next. We are all so different, yet exactly the same.
And so, as Christmas day was drawing to a close, I thought of a few things. I pondered the people who had upset me recently, and also in the last year. And seriously, driving home, I specifically spoke out loud in my head:
"I thank all those who have upset me in the last year. I thank you because you have made me stronger, you have provided me with the challenge to grow as a person, and to discover the alternatives in life to handling people like you. To all of you, I wish you the best."
And I think I meant it.
It's so easy to get upset at others and blame them when there is a problem, rather than to try look at them as a human being. I think that's when we are at our worst; we are lowering that person to something less than a human so that when we put them down, either out loud or in our minds, it is done so more easily. But when we remind ourselves that they have their own issues, and they are reacting the only way they know how, or just because they don't know any better, that changes things. We soften bit, and lower our raging thoughts. And think, 'oh.'
Not to say that you should feel sorry for or pity everyone. That isn't cool, acting superior over others. And not to say you can't get upset. That's a very real and normal emotion too. Just remember we are all human, and if someone upsets you, wish them the best. It changes the dynamic of emotions, and puts you in control of how you feel. That's the best you can do.
Merry Christmas :-D
A few things have made me think differently. Change the way I view things, shift my perspective on what irritates me.
As I walked to work early on Christmas Eve, every person I passed, or who walked by me, I wished a great day.
This is how it was in my head:
"I wish you a wonderful day. And you and you. I wish you a great day, I wish you a great day, and you and you....."
and so forth. I don't know, I guess the spirit of the season awakened within me some outpouring of kindness. Not to say I'm not a nice person, but I've never really thought anything like that. I genuinely wished good things for the people around me, from one human being to the next. We are all so different, yet exactly the same.
And so, as Christmas day was drawing to a close, I thought of a few things. I pondered the people who had upset me recently, and also in the last year. And seriously, driving home, I specifically spoke out loud in my head:
"I thank all those who have upset me in the last year. I thank you because you have made me stronger, you have provided me with the challenge to grow as a person, and to discover the alternatives in life to handling people like you. To all of you, I wish you the best."
And I think I meant it.
It's so easy to get upset at others and blame them when there is a problem, rather than to try look at them as a human being. I think that's when we are at our worst; we are lowering that person to something less than a human so that when we put them down, either out loud or in our minds, it is done so more easily. But when we remind ourselves that they have their own issues, and they are reacting the only way they know how, or just because they don't know any better, that changes things. We soften bit, and lower our raging thoughts. And think, 'oh.'
Not to say that you should feel sorry for or pity everyone. That isn't cool, acting superior over others. And not to say you can't get upset. That's a very real and normal emotion too. Just remember we are all human, and if someone upsets you, wish them the best. It changes the dynamic of emotions, and puts you in control of how you feel. That's the best you can do.
Merry Christmas :-D
Friday, December 24, 2010
Eat 4 Ur Health
A couple days ago, written on my hand was this:
EAT
4 UR
HEA+LTH
Following a MASSIVE binge on chocolatey goodies. Maybe small for some, but big for me. I'm reminding myself of impending Christmas treats, and reminding myself to BE GOOD now, to prepare for being BAD LATER.
Oh, and the + next to the A was just that: to make sure I got an A+ in Health.
Corny I know. That's me.
I succeeded in not over-indulging too much following that little mission statement, but alas, as the writing on my hand began to fade, so did my will to dedicate myself to the cause. I finished off a half-eaten toblerone yesterday people, and it was GOOD.
Today is Christmas Eve, and as usual I'm doing my usual fasting routine of no dairy, no meat products.
And suddenly everything forbidden is looking sooooo good to me.
EAT
4 UR
HEA+LTH
Following a MASSIVE binge on chocolatey goodies. Maybe small for some, but big for me. I'm reminding myself of impending Christmas treats, and reminding myself to BE GOOD now, to prepare for being BAD LATER.
Oh, and the + next to the A was just that: to make sure I got an A+ in Health.
Corny I know. That's me.
I succeeded in not over-indulging too much following that little mission statement, but alas, as the writing on my hand began to fade, so did my will to dedicate myself to the cause. I finished off a half-eaten toblerone yesterday people, and it was GOOD.
Today is Christmas Eve, and as usual I'm doing my usual fasting routine of no dairy, no meat products.
And suddenly everything forbidden is looking sooooo good to me.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
2 things
It's been a while since I last wrote about anything happening in my life, and a lot of that has to do with the busy-ness of the Chrissy season. I've been trying to get cards written and sent, presents bought and wrapped, as well as send some pretty packages to family, and Blonde, spending their Christmas' overseas.
All that combined with the boss having sudden surgery, and being slightly overwhelmed at work with the increased workload (merging not so nicely with the busiest time of year for us) and I haven't had much free time for anything else.
The two things that I can say are this:
* With the insect-spraying that Hubbie did weeks ago, (knock on wood) the appearance of spiders has dwindled to none - wait for it - instead being replaced by cockroaches. Yes indeed. It is so weird. Never has there been so many in our house in such a short period of time. And they're fast too, or so Hubbie says when he chases after them. See I just spray them, and spray, until they stop moving. He's the effective one.
* I had this weird dream 2 nights ago that I just had to mention. Really weird. So in the dream, I'm on a train. With me is Red, but also, a friend of mine's sister. I can't remember if the friend is there. I recently met her sister at a lingerie party I held at my place, but in this dream, the sister looks different, more like my friend than the sister. Confused? Ok I will call the friend B in lack of a better name, because I feel creatively challenged right now. So in the dream, B's sister looks more like B, and perhaps that has to do with a real-life convo I had with B where she mentioned her sisters. I've only met one you see, and perhaps my subconscious mind was creating an image of her.
Why all the talk of B's sister? Just wait. Also, Red was at this lingerie party, so they all saw each other there. She said to me later on, that B's sister looked familiar to her, but couldn't remember from where. Maybe this is why Red is also in the dream.
Anyway, in my dream, I have somewhat finished my book. Yes, my book which I intend on beginning to write in the New Year. I say somewhat finished because in the dream the book looked rather thin, and not only do I KNOW I can write way more than that, but I just had a sense in the dream that it was an unfinished rough copy. Nontheless it had a decent cover and all in the dream. And for some reason, the book has ended up in B's sisters hands.
She's flicked through the pages, unenthusiastically scanned the first few paragraphs, and made some remark about it. I don't know even know if she said something to be honest, it was just the vibe I got from her: she didn't like it. In that moment I remember thinking "what can I do? How can I make the beginning more engaging, more interesting?"
And that was about it really. The dream fascinates me because A) in it I have a rough copy of my book, and B) someone who I've met once, who seemed really nice, is critiquing my book in it! Maybe her name has something to do with it. Maybe the thing is, someone of her name, sharing the same name will critique my book, such as an editor..... perhaps. That's a big thing to look out for. My mum tends to say that the opposite happens in dreams.... so will the same-name person like it? I hope so:)
In the last few days I've been thinking of writing a hell of a lot more. A few things have happened lately to inspire me, and along with re-remembering my old childhood loves, in terms of movies and books, reading some inspirational messages from my "The Secret" subscription emails, and I guess just letting the thoughts and ideas run through my head, it's left me feeling really excited. Hubbie's Christmas card to me which I received this morning, contained a message along the lines of "may you reach your goals in the next year."
I loved it. Because I knew what he meant. Even though he considers a lot of my positive-thinking, dream-creating stuff a lot of mumbo-jumbo. He's still supporting me:)
All that combined with the boss having sudden surgery, and being slightly overwhelmed at work with the increased workload (merging not so nicely with the busiest time of year for us) and I haven't had much free time for anything else.
The two things that I can say are this:
* With the insect-spraying that Hubbie did weeks ago, (knock on wood) the appearance of spiders has dwindled to none - wait for it - instead being replaced by cockroaches. Yes indeed. It is so weird. Never has there been so many in our house in such a short period of time. And they're fast too, or so Hubbie says when he chases after them. See I just spray them, and spray, until they stop moving. He's the effective one.
* I had this weird dream 2 nights ago that I just had to mention. Really weird. So in the dream, I'm on a train. With me is Red, but also, a friend of mine's sister. I can't remember if the friend is there. I recently met her sister at a lingerie party I held at my place, but in this dream, the sister looks different, more like my friend than the sister. Confused? Ok I will call the friend B in lack of a better name, because I feel creatively challenged right now. So in the dream, B's sister looks more like B, and perhaps that has to do with a real-life convo I had with B where she mentioned her sisters. I've only met one you see, and perhaps my subconscious mind was creating an image of her.
Why all the talk of B's sister? Just wait. Also, Red was at this lingerie party, so they all saw each other there. She said to me later on, that B's sister looked familiar to her, but couldn't remember from where. Maybe this is why Red is also in the dream.
Anyway, in my dream, I have somewhat finished my book. Yes, my book which I intend on beginning to write in the New Year. I say somewhat finished because in the dream the book looked rather thin, and not only do I KNOW I can write way more than that, but I just had a sense in the dream that it was an unfinished rough copy. Nontheless it had a decent cover and all in the dream. And for some reason, the book has ended up in B's sisters hands.
She's flicked through the pages, unenthusiastically scanned the first few paragraphs, and made some remark about it. I don't know even know if she said something to be honest, it was just the vibe I got from her: she didn't like it. In that moment I remember thinking "what can I do? How can I make the beginning more engaging, more interesting?"
And that was about it really. The dream fascinates me because A) in it I have a rough copy of my book, and B) someone who I've met once, who seemed really nice, is critiquing my book in it! Maybe her name has something to do with it. Maybe the thing is, someone of her name, sharing the same name will critique my book, such as an editor..... perhaps. That's a big thing to look out for. My mum tends to say that the opposite happens in dreams.... so will the same-name person like it? I hope so:)
In the last few days I've been thinking of writing a hell of a lot more. A few things have happened lately to inspire me, and along with re-remembering my old childhood loves, in terms of movies and books, reading some inspirational messages from my "The Secret" subscription emails, and I guess just letting the thoughts and ideas run through my head, it's left me feeling really excited. Hubbie's Christmas card to me which I received this morning, contained a message along the lines of "may you reach your goals in the next year."
I loved it. Because I knew what he meant. Even though he considers a lot of my positive-thinking, dream-creating stuff a lot of mumbo-jumbo. He's still supporting me:)
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