It’s not what you think. I wasn’t out partying last night. I wasn’t cuddled up on the couch watching Netflix and accidentally drinking one too many glasses of wine. Nope. This is all emotional. It’s the morning after the day before, and everything that happened – the things I did, I said, I thought – are making me feel sick.
You have to treat emotional hangovers like real hangovers. You have to drink lots of water and eat all the food and make yourself cup after cup of coffee, even though you really don’t feel like coffee. You take paracetamol and ibuprofen, but you wish you could take something more, something that actually works. And all you can do is think back to the way you behaved and wish you’d done things differently. Why didn’t I ask this instead of that? Why did I think that was a good idea? Why, why, why?
I’m the sort of person who’s confident in the moment, but full of doubt the second that moment has passed. I’m the kind of woman who laughs easily, but cries about it later. I like who I am, I’m happy being Fern, but when I’m hungover like this I can’t help but wonder if the real Fern is really who I want to be. Not that I can change that. Not that I want to change that. I don’t think.
Today the baby is needy. I was gone for two days and two nights and now he’s clinging to me. Crying. Clawing at my chest for the milk he needs but doesn’t need. And I am tired. I missed him. I’m glad to be with him. But I want him to just be content, to go and play, to come to me for laughs and cuddles and a teeny bit of milk in the morning, and a little bit more milk at night. Is he hungover too? Did I put him through this for nothing?
One of the things I love about life is the way I can look back and go, Yes. That is the thing that led me to where I am today.
One of the things I hate about life is the way I have to go through things and think, Yes. This is what is going to determine my future.
Maybe it’s the creative person’s curse, but my mind lives in the future. It takes me to all the ifs and maybes and somedays, when my body is stuck firmly in the definites and actuals and right-freaking-nows. Right-freaking-now I feel sick. Right-freaking-now I am torn. I have to wait and I don’t want to wait. I have to get through today but I don’t want to live through today. I don’t want to be hungover.
I wish I could just vomit and be done with it.
– Fern xxx