Proud

It seems odd to write that I was proud of myself for going to support my sister and her husband in a big endeavor of theirs but that’s the way I feel. Proud that I didn’t screw it up, or take attention away from them by arriving late and disheveled, proud that I could be present and available to support them - and present in that I wasn’t distracted by a hangover, or by being slightly buzzed from pre-event wine, or even taken out of the moment by the thought of, “When is this thing over so I can go home and drink?”

No, I was just there, simply part of it all, a member of the crowd. And I remember all of it, and I can debrief with them about it thoughtfully later on and share my feedback about the event because I was there.

And, yes, there was the obligatory awkward small talk often associated with Events, capital E, but my conversations with these very same people in the past have been no less awkward when I’m flushed in the face and boozy. The only thing that’s different now is that instead of feeling drunk and awkward talking to them, I feel sober and awkward talking to them. So.

And an interesting note - not quite a segway into awkward conversation, but not an entire departure from it, either - there was a friend of theirs I’d seen a handful of times socially. He’s a nice guy, not a huge drinker himself, but this was a different context than he was used to seeing me, so, since I wasn’t sure he remembered who I was, I said, “Hi, it’s nice to see you again. I’m March Madness. You’re probably used to seeing me in So and So’s kitchen with a glass of wine in my hand.”

How interesting that I chose to give him that context … but the fact is that it’s true, and that probably is how he best knows me.

Whatever happens after this 90 days (or 68 now, after today, I guess), I don’t ever want to resort to giving people context by connecting myself with alcohol again.