Yesterday I had what can best be described as an emotional hangover. My post from Monday night was full of self-criticism and lack of self-compassion. I went to bed that night feeling beaten up.
Then I woke up yesterday – a new day. As I laid in bed and got my bearings on the day, the memories of the night before came creeping in. In a matter of seconds, my mind scrambled to recall exactly what had happened, how my feelings had spiraled so quickly. Add in some panic over what I had written in my post. Then shame that I had said too much, sounded too pathetic, posted after bingeing on my feelings like a fool.
It was not unlike how I used to feel after a night with a few too many glasses of Cabernet. Except that I didn’t have the fun memories from before the Cabernet took over.
But, as I thought about it, I realized that what I had felt – and what I had written – was very real. And maybe I shouldn’t be ashamed after all. There’s always the fear of judgment but perhaps the person I most need to worry about judging me is myself.
So I shook off my hangover and tackled a new day.