So it’s Sunday - and somehow, I’m already writing another post even though I literally just wrote my “16 days sober” post yesterday. 

Anyway, last night’s sleep was… not great. I woke up around 3.30am, tossed and turned for a while, and finally gave up at 5ish. I thought that not drinking was supposed to help you sleep better? Like, wasn’t that part of the deal? What's going on here? Anyway, I’m trusting that it’ll all sort itself out eventually.

This whole “waking up stupidly early” thing is not really me. I’ve always been that person who can sleep anywhere - one of those annoying “good sleepers.” When I went travelling to Australia and New Zealand, I slept through the whole journey. I even napped in Hong Kong airport during my stopover. I make a terrible travel buddy, but hey, I love my sleep. (Also, I hadn’t slept the night before, so I was kind of making up for it).

Anyway, being up at 5am isn’t my usual vibe, and I know I’ll feel it later. But I got up, did some writing, and even made it to a spin class at 9am. I was tired, but I showed up. 

Oh - and you know how I said I didn’t go out last night? Well, this morning my brain decided to torture me with all the “what ifs.”

Like, what if something bad happened at the party? I know it’s ridiculous, and I hate that I even go there, but my brain just wouldn't stop.

While I was in spin, some photos popped up in the group chat - and surprise! - everyone was fine. Smiling, alive, having a great time. I felt relieved, even though, rationally, there was no reason for me to worry in the first place. But it was what I needed to let it go and get on with my day. Yes, my brain is a little crazy, and no, I really don’t like how easily it jumps to the worst-case scenario for no reason at all.

This is exactly why I try to avoid talking about nights out now. Around Christmas - or sometime vaguely around Christmas (it was about a Christmas party, so honestly it could’ve been a couple of months either side) - someone mentioned something about that night, and my brain immediately went into overdrive. Within minutes, I’d convinced myself something bad had happened to someone. And before I knew it, there I was, texting them to “check in.”

They replied politely, basically letting me know they were fine (and, reading between the lines, that I should probably mind my own business). Which, fair enough. They were right. But still - I hated how weird and anxious it made me feel. Like, why does my brain do this?

So now, I just prefer not to know. If people go out drinking, I’ll wait for a sign that everything’s okay rather than send some awkward “just checking in!” message. It’s silly, I know. It’s just me projecting my own anxieties onto everyone else.

The good thing is, I’m working on it. I’ve got my first proper session with Jessie on Thursday, and I’m pretty hopeful. Because I really don’t want to care so much about things that only exist in my head. It’s tiring. Like, really tiring.

But hey - for now, everyone’s safe, I’m 17 days sober, and I’m ready to actually get some work done. (After a quick trip to the shops.)

One step, one morning, one spin class at a time.

And please, universe, just let me have a decent night’s sleep tonight! 🙏