If 22 wasn’t such a good age, Taylor Swift wouldn’t have written a song about it. In this moment, at 22 years of age it seems like the world is at my feet. I am starting this blog to help me understand me. I’ve never felt so empowered, yet so vulnerable.
It’s scary to think that at the end of this year I will be a qualified physiotherapist, my teenage dream about to come true, everything I have worked so hard for over the last four years is about to become a reality. But I don’t feel ready. Not in the slightest. This signifies the end of something and the start of another, the transition to real adult life… Where I have to work 6 days a week to pay off a mortgage on a house that I probably don’t even like, pay off a loan on a car that I won’t be able to resell for half the price I bought it for, start putting money into superannuation (whatever the hell that is), start saving for the holidays I’ll never take and start walking the dog who will pass away before I’m 40.
It scares me to think that I can’t even look after myself on a Saturday night, let alone take on a full patient load as a new grad. Speaking of Saturday nights and Friday nights… And Wednesday Uni nights… And Thirsty Thursdays… Over the last 6 months in particular I have felt that wine and vodka have been my only friends. Even though on many occasions they have both caused projectile expulsion of my stomach contents. I think that maybe I’ll forget about the reality I’ll be faced with in December, the decisions I’ll have to make regarding my career and my relationship. Alcohol allows me to have the night off from thinking, worrying and dwelling and let’s me have a good time with the girls. But much to my dismay, all the things that are bothering me are still there when I wake up in the morning, only they are compounded by a splitting headache, an upset stomach and much confusion as to whether or not I’m still drunk – AKA the classic hangover.
Wednesday night just gone I had a big night… Before leaving the house my housemate and I drank two bottles of wine each and when we arrived at the uni night hotspot “Flamingo’s on Quay” we subjected ourselves to many vodka OJs and shots. We danced to ‘Closer’ by the Chainsmokers and got ‘low’ to Flo Rida in true white girl style, we took drunk club photos that we didn’t remember until we seen them the next day and we stumbled back into the house at 4am on Thursday morning. I slept for 2 hours, before waking up still very intoxicated and needing to go to the toilet. I decided a to have a shower, I just sat there trying to hold down last nights liquor, the water ran over me, and I thought to myself, “Do I really want to wake up feeling like this?” – The answer was no. I felt horrible. In that moment I decided that my partying and binge drinking was taking its toll on my liver and more importantly my bank account… It’s hard enough being a student with a low income, paying rent and buying food, but when unexpected things like your $700 car rego come in the mail and you have no money to pay for it because you just blew nearly $200 on liquid that is potentially going to make a reappearance at any second, you realise something needs to change.
This is where I decided that I was going to pick up my act – a 6 week detox. A cleanse of sorts. I posted a photo to my Instagram declaring what I was going to do and so that my regular partying buddies knew I was serious and this was not just a whim. Of course many people scoffed at the idea, my own family placed bets on how long I would last. At first this disappointed me, but now I am even more determined.
6 weeks sober. Let’s do this!
Until next time x