On Monday morning last week, I felt phenomenal. Self-respect had been preserved through the weekend, the reflection in the mirror could smile and say she was a good and strong person who knew how to have fun, how to keep herself in control, and how to love who she was.
Fast forward to now.
Last night was a good ol' $hit $how, including a stop at the $lum. It also involved multiple drinks (strike 1), several incidents of girl love in front of runners (strike 2), and confessions of love to friends I would prefer not to risk losing over silly, alcohol-riddled claims of affection (strikes 3-100). Now I feel like going into hiding: I just want to check out for a week, get the hell out of here, or at least drop off the face of the earth for long enough to let things blow over and regain my dignity. Small campus, but shouldn't be too difficult, right? I mean, I have twice as much space to run to as I did last year.
Then again, they were all drunk, too. Will it matter in a couple of hours as we stumble into brunch? If I don't say anything, will they focus on their own galling behavior? Surely I'm not the only one here who does ridiculous things in that state.
Lesson learned: You are how you act. If I want to wake up in the morning with dignity, I need to exhibit more self-control and ask myself, "Can I wake up and feel good about myself after having done this?" If the answer is no, running away and slamming doors is an immature and unacceptable reaction. Looks like it's time to learn how to be honest with myself and gracefully remove myself from a situation.
It's also time for a Sunday morning perspective run. And perhaps a swim.
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