hot mess, party of one, your table is now available

Yesterday was a really great day; I would go so far as to say it is in my top 5 list of Best Days Ever.

(Sunshine + beach) good friends/beer = beautiful moments

and then…

I got really drunk last night and vomited onto myself and my friend’s living room floor.


I then stood in the bathroom crying because I felt like such a fucking hot mess in a new way, and the kindness that was being shown to me was overwhelming in that moment. What I wanted was for someone to verbalize the shame that I already felt.

“God, Courtney, what are you doing? This is why you don’t spend time with people because you get out of control! You have no self discipline! What’s your deal, Courtney?”

These are the things that were running through my Jameson-soaked brain while my friend’s friend helped me change; this girl I’ve barely had conversations with before was showing me the kindness that I could not even show myself, comforting me and easing my shame while allowing me to just cry cry cry. My friend lent me a t-shirt and sweat pants, and he put my clothes in the washer. He was caring for me while I felt so vulnerable and so exposed.

I woke up this morning with the trash can to the left of my head and a bottle of water to the right and really confused about what I was wearing; it took a minute for me to remember what little I could about the night before, but two things are clear: I won’t be drinking like that for a while and I have really great people in my life who care for me well when I can’t care for myself.

I saw my friend later today and I jokingly said, “Yep, got drunk and threw up in your living room, then cried in the bathroom. I became ‘That Girl.'” He responded with, “yeah, and I like that girl. I like all the parts of yourself. It was a good night, we all had a great time.”*

I still claim it as a good day because I learned more about myself and the people I have chosen as family here in Seattle. But seriously… ugh… learn from Auntie Courtney, kiddos. Join the Party Train, but there is no need to park your car on the tracks.


*perks of being friends with therapists is that they see me well and bless me when I feel like hiding behind my defense of humor


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