Six women piled into the car to take the journey south for our girls’ weekend away. Two nights without kids, beach walks, uninterrupted conversations, and lots of alcohol – what could be better?
The Friday night passed in a blur of talking, drinking and dancing. I woke with a pain in my head, my stomach and my heart. I couldn’t remember going to bed, or most of the evening.
The hot shame enveloped my body, as pieces of the night came back to me. Too ill to enjoy our cafe breakfast, I sat quietly, willing the ache to leave my body. It was a wretched pain that I had felt so many times, but somehow this was different.
Mamamia Confessions: The worst thing I’ve done at an office Christmas party. Post continues below.
The girls discussed the night’s events, of which I could recall almost none. It hit me then – was this still fun? Is this what a great night with friends should be?
Clear as day, the words came into my head: I don’t want to do this anymore.
But could I really just stop drinking? After all, it had been my go-to for a good twenty years. Would I be able to celebrate, commiserate, dance, connect, relax and parent without it? I truly believed it to be an essential part of life. So why did it hurt so much?