Drunkenness and Trying to Find Meaning In It - "A drunk mind speaks a sober heart." - Jean-Jaques Rousseau

This past Sunday I went to a work party at my day job. I work at a restaurant with a bar because I'm a stereotype of an actress, meaning there were drunk bartenders there who were making us all free drinks. I spent the first twenty minutes insisting that this was still a party with people I would have to work with the next day, and I wasn't going to get trashed.

I then had three cosmos, a ginger martini, and a double shot of tequila, all in under an hour, and spent the rest of the party being absolutely wasted.

Guys, it was pretty terrible. This wasn't adorable, affectionate-drunk, let's-tell-secrets-about-who-we-like-like Emma. This was have-a-coworker-hold-my-hair-back-in-the-bathroom Emma. This was one-of-the-rare-times-I-was-hungover-the-next-day Emma. This was I-had-to-have-friends-take-me-home Emma. And, somewhat unfortunately for me, I remember all of it.

There are certain parts of it that I remember as being deeply embarrassing. But instead, I'm gonna choose to focus on the parts of this experience that remind me how lucky a person I am.

First, that I have a day job that gives me enough money that I can do things like afford to take a cab home when I'm desperately drunk. It's the least spiritually/emotionally important, but damn, taking the subway home like that would've been awful.

But also, I'm so grateful to have amazing friends who actually were willing to help me out when I got sick because of my own poor decisions, make sure I got home safe, and checked in on me the next day. I woke up to several texts from coworkers asking how I'm doing, and when I went into work the next day (and you better believe that I went in and impressed my boss with doing the work even when he knew I still felt terrible) everyone came up to me to comfort me with stories about how I'm not exactly the only person to have ever done that at a staff party so I wouldn't feel too embarrassed around them.

Guys, I'm usually a do-it-myself kind of a girl. I hate asking for help, and I like to believe that I can take on the world, and I can have it all, and I can do it all on my own. But that's just not true. No one can. And this past Sunday was an excellent reminder of that for me. A sick, nausea-inducing reminder, but heartwarming once I could keep food down again nonetheless!