To say the last few months have been challenging would be an understatement. While life here has been blooming in dozens of beautiful ways, certain parts of it have been slowly disintegrating out from underneath me. And, for reasons that will probably be made clear in the coming weeks, the last couple of weeks have been the most emotionally difficult weeks I’ve had in my post-pubescent life.

So like any emotionally-mature adult, I took to drinking. Every day. For two straight weeks. Not always excessive drinking – usually just a glass of wine or two with a coworker after work. But when the opportunities for excess presented themselves – work parties, open bars, Friday nights, etc. – I took advantage much more than I normally would. And considering I work in an industry that was founded on booze and big egos, the opportunities presented themselves with frequency. Now mom, I can hear you now, and I know alcohol isn’t the answer and will not solve my problems. But the devil’s drink is a social lubricator and tends to allow people to fast-track over the uncomfortable hump of unfamiliarity and become friends. Combine that with the fact that I’m floundering in a new country with only shallow relationships established, and I was basically grasping at anything.

So after several weekend mornings of creaking my bloodshot eyes open with a parched throat and a pounding head, I arrived at this morning. Where a simple evening out to watch the Australian Open men’s final turned into a drinking game, which turned into sneaking past the bouncers at the bar, which turned into dancing, which turned into a late-night fast food run and culminated in a faceplant into my bed somewhere well past midnight. Except this time when I woke, I also had a stuffed-up nose and sore throat to match my pounding head. Yes, I managed to drink myself straight into illness.

Cause and Effect

The adult in me is annoyed at my juvenile, collegiate behavior – pulling the grown-up version of a keg stand simply because life isn’t being fair. The perpetual 20-year-old in me is shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes, noting that while this may not be solving anything, at least I’m having a ton of fun. But I think the time has come to listen to the adult and end my wallowing, square my shoulders, take a deep breath, put the cap on the bottle, and do a little problem-solving in lieu of drowning.

Wish me luck, xoxoxo!