Cheers

Dear Strong Woman,

On the surface, everything seems the same.  Underneath, it is all so different.

I casually found myself scarfing down three tacos and a chugging a giant glass of water around midnight this past Friday night.  (Yep, that happened.)

Your initial thought upon reading that may have been that I was taking preventive measures to keep a potential hangover at bay, but, in all actuality, I was eating a specific meal that is part of a regimented nutrition overhaul I’m doing as a way to reset and recharge over the summer.  (I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to this stuff.)

However, if it were a few years ago, your first thought miiiiight have been spot on.

FROM NINE TO WINE ‘O’ CLOCK

I don’t want to give the wrong impression here.  I used to drink, but I would never say I was a drinker.  Our crew would head to the bar to kick off the weekend.

And for special occasions…

…out of boredom…

…and Thursdays…which some people consider the weekend.

(You’re chuckling, yes? Ok, good.)

In all seriousness, with the exception of a dark couple of weeks where I was struggling to cope with the news of my Grandma Cleo being ill, most memories of our escapades were the innocent happy hours that turned into happy nights.

But what older, wiser, lessinclinedtohopthefenceofapublicpoolandtakeadipinmybirthdaysuit me (wait WHAT?) has realized is that…going out was more about chasing dreams than it was chasing drinks.

SEARCHING IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES

The catalyst for my rebellious years (better late than never) was that I was fresh out of a decade of nothing but long-term relationships; relationships where I believed so much in my partner’s potential that I was giving them all of my energy without even realizing it. Rather than spend that energy on figuring out what the hell I wanted…I lost who I was.

(Seriously. This Steelers girl owned a Cowboys t-shirt at one point. TRAGIC.)

Now…I was smart enough to know that what once was lost wasn’t going to be found at the bottom of a bottle, but I craved real, genuine connection, and that liquid courage helped this shy girl throw some of her inhibitions to the wind.

As the years went on, the trial-and-error became exhausting. It was like a frustrating shopping experience where you are surrounded by beautiful things and yet nothing just seems to fit right…or you think it fits right until you take it home, try it out, and see it in a different light.  (Thank GOD I found a few staples in the process. #yaya)

It’s not that I don’t drink anymore; it’s that I don’t need to. Putting self-love into practice allowed me to find courage – REAL courage – because saying NO to that which does not serve you requires it…just not the liquid kind.  

So I remind you, Strong Woman, that happiness is an inside job.

Being someone who makes you happy comes before being with someone who makes you happy.

And THAT is when the true happy hour begins.

Cheers!