Drizzly, rainy day. The sort of day I've been having a hankering for ever since autumn hit. I realise this is the sort of weather I want when I'm cosy within my own home but at work, it's even more depressing than it usually is.
It really has been grinding my gears lately, this awful, oppressive environment. I know I'm playing the long game and I have a plan of action; to leave once we've moved into the new place, but it's still difficult to not let the ridiculous politics chip away at my spirit. I know I've got to give less of a damn. But it's difficult when it's so slow and dreary.
Anyway. At least I'm able to do this at my desk without anyone breathing down the back of my neck. I've just got to try and take the benefits while I can. I mean, who knows, maybe I won't be able to find anything at all when I start looking for new things. I've got to make the most of being able to walk to and from work, the commute will be so very long after the move.
I think I've been feeling okay on the whole. The odd headache here and there but on the whole, I think I feel okay. I've still been listening to a lot of recovery podcasts which are very comforting. I don't think I want to drink again. It's 32 days since I got horribly drunk with Will doing Karaoke together, - which was a fantastic night actually, but the way I felt the following day was just awful. One of the worst hang overs I've ever endured. They aren't like they used to be back in my early twenties. I've never been a big drinker, but thinking back I wonder if it's ever really been my thing. I don't feel my body can handle it as well as others can. I do enjoy the boost of confidence it gives and I've absolutely got some brilliant memories from evenings of drinking, ones I'll remember for the rest of my life. Love tipsy. But after the 2nd glass of whatever, it just makes me bloated and after a while I get the hiccups, then I feel sick, sometimes I am sick and I often just end up falling asleep on someone's shoulder. As the years have gone by, it makes me feel worse and worse. The next day I feel even more anxious than I usually do. No, I don't think I want to do it anymore. I like the idea of partaking in other things. But maybe when it comes to it I won't want to either. I want to love my body and keep it as healthy as possible.
I do worry about appearing boring around Will and his friends who are all very big drinkers. I know they're all very important to him so I definately don't want to rock the boat. It's just, I don't rememeber much of what we do all talk about, or I feel really embaressed about something I said or did. I think it makes me feel less insecure but it's pretty much the opposite. Thankfully he seems supportive at the moment, hopefully when we have our own place and our cats I stay home with them while he parties!
I'm probably going to leave this here for now, I can't think of much else I want to unload.
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