As much as I love my lapses into self-pity, they are becoming increasingly difficult to support for long periods of time. Indeed, in a city like Paris with all of it’s pretty distractions, it is almost impossible to wallow in your own misery for too long before you feel like you’re missing out on a happiness that is desperate for you to grasp it. Consider it like a hot bath – you have to get out just before your own grime sticks back to your clean skin. Tasty.
From people to places, parties to pastries (pistachio-almond pain au chocolat; good God y’all!), this past week has been coaxing me out of my lull with unfailing skill. As I said last week (251) the need to detach has been the dominant force in my make up recently; but I only want to detach from the crap. The crap can go. Bye-bye crap. The problem with drinking (for me anyways) is that that wall of numbing distance often extended to the good, though I didn’t really notice. Everything lost its urgency and one-night friendships/stands/wonders, were left at just that. I now actually follow up with drunken friends I meet in bathrooms or in the smoking area, and have been pleasantly surprised. Kindness is more appreciated because I see it with sober eyes and not through a gin-soaked haze which makes everyone appear nicer than they actually. The erratic, frantic pace of a tequila-fused night is significantly slowed-down, and when having a good time, you can really savour every moment, every connection, and luxuriate in the company of people who make you remember that you’re young, healthy and bursting with energy and that a little bit of sadness shouldn’t put a stopper to all the good stuff (Day 78).
Now, do I wish that I could have all this with an Elderflower Collins in hand? Only hell yes. But really, considering this emotional yoyo I seem to be living, adding liquor and stirring gently doesn’t seem like a particularly bright idea. Though, with about 100 days resting, I feel like I may be starting to really realise what I inadvertently set out to do; that feelings happen with or without alcohol (I know right, revolutionary stuff here, guys!). However I wish I’d known that sooner. It’s not every emotion that needs its own tailor made cocktail. Sometimes shit will go down and you just have to deal with it. To cry if you need to, because it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. And more importantly, to realise that a G&T will never support you the way your friends will. That the beauty in the things around you is way more vibrant and colourful that a multi-layered concoction with an umbrella in it.
And how wonderful if you can establish that perfect balance where you can experience all the best of reality with that lovely wave of soft-drunkeness to sand down the edges. Genius.