Balance and Moderation – Makes me sick

Sooooo… I had a bit of a glitch. I kind of got overwhelmed by the whole ‘adulting’ thing. Decided it wasn’t for me. You know, like, the bills, my health, work, relationships… basically just any responsibility in general was out. I just went, “Fuck it. I’m done.”

So I checked out of life. Abused the shit out of my body. Pick a vice and I used it.  I mean, I fucking smashed myself man. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, food, men, sex, sleep, frappes, diet coke, social media, whinging and bitching.

I’m not going to lie… I had a ball. It was a sick time.

Oh god, like the dress ups and the costumes. And that one, no wait it was two Irishmen. Or the Harry Styles lookalike in Byron Bay. Or that guy who gave me a wicked framed picture of Thomas the Tank Engine because he had to leave the country to get off the gear (Spoiler: it wasn’t Ben Cousins). The all nighters, the skinny dipping. That high end prostitute that pashed me on the beach. The dancing. The parties…  so many parties.

From sky scraper balconies that were nearly as high as I was, to afternoon sessions in nightclubs with people vomiting into pint glasses. The bathroom besties, (there is no stronger bond than girls who meet in the toilets on a night out. I love you guys xx). The thumb injuries from swiping right. The dating. The dating disasters. The sugar binges. All the things… I was overstimulated and couldn’t get enough.

BUT…

Yep, there is always a fucking ‘but.’ Just to be a downer and kill my buzz.

Turns out this super fun strategy to live my life is unsustainable. Tragic, but true.

How does that old saying go? ‘What goes up, must come down.’

It started to become less fun. I FELT LIKE SHIT!! The dating made me feel like I had something to prove and lacked any meaning, the partying stopped me from experiencing any pleasure for the rest of the week, the food made me feel unhealthy and sick. The social media was a constant stream of bitter comparison. I was the autopilot of my own MH370 and it was only when I started to introduce new things in a desperate attempt to feel better about myself that I began to notice a change.

Underneath the surface I was a hot mess. Marinating in shame, rage and fear. I didn’t feel like I was enough. I was never going to be truly loved. I shamed myself about being too fat, too ugly, not smart enough and not rich enough. That way of thinking does some damage and I did whatever it took to escape it, instead of dealing with why I felt that way.

Something had to change. And it did. Slowly and gradually. One positive thing at a time.

I am not saying I suddenly became a Buddhist monk (even though those guys are next level amazing and it’s still a goal). I will always be a chaser of good times. Life is meant to be fun. We are meant to be playful and curious. My job is to recognise when playtime becomes damaging and detrimental to the other important parts of my life.

So I’m going to chuck a couple of words at you. They are horrible, brutal words and I’m really sorry I have to do this, but here we go.

Are you ready? OK…

Balance and moderation.

Makes me sick but it had to be done. I’ve never understood using words as a unit of measurement. How the fuck do I know what a moderate amount of anything is? How the fuck do I know what a balanced life looks like for me? I usually have three gears and they are: more, more and more.

These things weren’t happening when I checked out. In my head I was too busy being a sick cunt to look after myself. That as long as I kept avoiding the real shit, I wouldn’t have to do any work on myself and could keep pretending that this is fine. I’m fucking fine. Well yeah, if FINE = Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic + Emotional

But I don’t want to be fine. I want to be amazing and I’m learning that I am. It’s worth the work, I deserve it and so do you.

So I’m having a red hot crack. And not the kind of crack that you get on the street.

  • The Spiritual Bogan
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