7:23AM, The Nest, 18 September 2019

I love mornings like this. Mornings of productivity that lead to the best runner’s high. Mornings with that freshly brewed coffee smell, filling the whole house. Mornings with damp fall air and watching the light trickle through the trees. More importantly, I love these mornings where I don’t feel dreadfully hungover and faded anymore. I love waking up refreshed, revitalized, and ready to make the day my bitch.

Until recently, I lived my life a particularly destructive way. I don’t mean I was clutching a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label passed out on my couch with M*A*S*H re-runs playing as background noise, but for some reason, I felt that it was necessary to get absolutely obliterated every single week. I kept trying to justify my actions with the stressors of work, but found myself drinking for no reason whatsoever.

This doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped drinking altogether. With my mum being from England, I’ve had a European-focused upbringing, so beer, wine and the occasional spirits are simply a part of life. I’ve found that I enjoy drinking simply for the sake of relaxing. The goal isn’t to get drunk anymore, but to savor some delectable, oaky Chardonnay with my mum, research the history of Pappy Van Winkle 12 Year, and appreciate the craft that goes into micro-brews.

All it took was one weekend of FOMO to be the catalyst for change. Once again, I found myself on the outside looking in; what the hell was I doing here? Why did I go out of my way to impress people I could care less about? Why is no one dancing? Why did I glue these stupid eyelashes on my face?

That night, I saw a man, probably late 30s/early 40s, sitting in the bottle service area with a frosty handle of Grey Goose and an ample amount of mixers. I observed his body language and demeanor; he was just waiting for a few pretty girls to show up, swoon over his wealth, take some drinks, and probably never speak to him again. Part of me pitied him; what was the point in this? How many hundreds, potentially thousands of dollars did he spend just for clout?

Then it hit me. We’re all hurting in some way. We’re trying to escape our current realities that we’re absolutely miserable with; we don’t showcase them in our day to day lives, because that makes us vulnerable. We get one more $17 vodka Redbull, we rack up one more line, we pop one more pill hoping it’ll make everything seem okay for a few more hours.

Being a natural observer, I couldn’t help but notice that everyone, even couples, were all looking down at their phones. They were endlessly scrolling through other people’s nights out, comparing themselves to their facade of an audience. Why is it so hard to remain present? Why do we have to find the next best thing when we already have it in front of us for that moment? Why are we so afraid to just live?

Don’t get me wrong; if you love bottle service, do it. If you love going out in the city, do it. If this is what you’re looking forward to after a long week, then by all means, absolutely do it. Life is short, and we should enjoy every second we get. However, if that means you’re constantly blacking out and not even remembering the night, that’s where the problem arises. It’s a magnitude of internal issues.

Here are two choices; continue down the same debilitating path of self destruction, or observe your behavior, replace bad vices and accept your own faults. Understand that this change won’t happen overnight, and whatever you haven’t faced from your past will come back to haunt you. No amount of liquor or substance abuse will help. It’s easier said than done, but putting in the work to improve your life can start whenever you want. All it takes is that leap of faith, because no one else can do that but you.