Yoga and Minty Milk Shakes

I'd love to sit here and write a profound and honest tale of my life.  But I just don't have it in me this morning.  I am sitting in bed on a chilly Saturday morning sipping my tea as the sun begins to brighten the sky.  It's that time of morning when it's that dull light darkness with the chirps of a few brave birds.  The ones who get the worms.  I love this time of day.  I also love waking up hangover and anxiety free.  No, I did not have an AF night, but I didn't have an over-the-limit night either.  Why not?  Because I was out with Shaun until nearly 6pm so I avoided the late afternoon boredom with the mind-fucking thoughts that tell me it's okay to start drinking at 3pm because I can always quit earlier.  That never works.  That's why I have over done it for at least the last two weeks.  But not last night.  Last night, I slept better than I have in several weeks.  And while in the bathroom this morning, I did a quick anxiety check.  A habit I've practiced for over 20 years.  I am driving up to Scottsdale this morning for a yoga festival.  And when the thought of the drive would have set a buzzy feeling through my body and my thoughts would quickly assess the situation and come up with a number of tools to tame the buzz, I sat there and waited.  And waited.  I couldn't figure out what was happening.  I couldn't name the lack of buzz.  And then it hit me... I felt nothing.  No anxiety, no manic thoughts of which breathing techniques I should practice or ways to get out of going to the festival.  No wondering if I had enough under-the-tongue homeopathic anti-anxiety tablets to last me for the day.  Nothing.  Just, dare I say, normal.  

I did drink four light beers last night.  And I paid attention to how I felt with each sip.  I didn't get nasty or depressed like previous nights (ovulation is most definitely over).  But I did get smiley and giddy after two.  Three made me sleepy and four put me to bed.  I didn't like the smiley and giddy feeling, which is funny because isn't that the goal?  I didn't like the falseness of the feeling.  I wanted to be smiley and giddy without the booze, dammit.  I wanted to be smiley and giddy with gratitude for the New York style pizza in the oven, the dog licking his rain-wet paws on the couch next to me, the rose scented candle on the end table, the boys cozy in their rooms with bellies full of sausage and pepperoni, the thriller on TV that Craig and I were watching, the cozy old blanket thrown over my legs.  I wanted to be giddy for those reasons, not because of a fake mood boost from a toxic poison.  Regardless, I am happy I didn't overdo it.  What did I learn?  Not much more than I already knew, but a good reminder that booze robs us of authentic experiences and if I stay out until 6pm or 7pm sipping a nasty green Shamrock Shake from McDonald's with my son, I can avoid the boredom hour and dueling thoughts.  Connect that to my previous experiences, I know that boredom hour slowly disappears and I no longer will have to run to avoid.

Welp, I'm off to get ready for my festival.  Namaste, warriors.