Yesterday I was so hungover that I got sick.
My hangovers are the devil, but I haven’t been that sick, vomited, in years.
I’m on Christmas vacation with my entire family – kids, parents, siblings – and we are all sharing a rental house at the beach. The walls are thin and most of the bathrooms are in shared spaces. Once the horrifying reality that I really was going to be sick set in – that I wasn’t gong to be able to cheerfully fake it one more time – I went into my room, shut the door, took my dog’s empty food bowl and – laying on the floor in a very “down dog” position, threw up into my poor dog’s bowl.
Sick as a dog. Ha.
As I was laying there trying to wrap my needled, maimed, spinning mind around just how sick I was, I remembered some moments in AA meetings where people with whom I “can’t feel a real connection” shared their low moments.
Maybe I hadn’t pissed myself, or lost my job, or gotten a DUI – but laying on the floor, quietly throwing up into my dog’s food bowl while my family baked cookies and wrapped presents just outside the thin, thin door – seems pretty low to me. And, as someone asked in an AA meeting a few weeks ago, “Just how bad does it need to be?” before you stop?
So I googled AA meetings in this tourist town, told my family I was headed out for some last-minute Xmas shopping, and found the church where the meeting was taking place.
And there they were – addicts and alcoholics, looking like addicts and alcoholics. My people?
I think I hate this snob voice inside my head as much as I hate Wolfie. Or are they the same voice?
I’m no longer interested in comparing my outside to their outside, because inside we share some powerful DNA that levels us in different ways, but collectively raises us up.
Merry Christmas Eve. (Day 2)