When enough is enough

What could you achieve if you stopped going out and getting hammered all the time? Would you be more effective at work? How much money would you save? Would you struggle to get laid? Would your social life fall into a miserable heap? All of these things and more go through your mind when you're contemplating knocking the partying on its head.

The last three months of 2011 nearly killed me. I was spiraling out of control. I was set to self-destruct. The partying was getting harder and harder, and more and more frequent. I feel sublimely blessed to have such a busy social life, but the hedonsim was killing me. The eighteen hour benders, the thousands of dollars in cash, not to mention the thousands of empty calories were all taking their toll on me physically, mentally and financially.

I can't remember when I first wanted to stop. I know that for at least a year before I did, it was frequently present in my mind. I looked for excuses, reasons to stop. I figured that if I had a girlfriend then I would calm down a bit. I contemplated moving away to a new city, starting afresh. All I was doing was looking for an alternative to facing up to the reality that if I was going to make a change, it was going to have to come from within.

Finally I got that trigger. January 19th 2012. Having still not had the chance to fully recover from a four-figure, 24 hour bender on new year's eve, here I was again pushing another massive bender. There was nothing particularly unusual about this bender, in relative terms it was no more excessive than most. It was 4.30am, I was maybe $800 out of pocket, and sitting there talking cod-shit at a late night lock-in in Darlinghurst. The gradual and progressive decline in my immune system, the steady increase in body fat, the commensurate decline in fitness, and the bouncing from one pay packet to the next finally got to me.

Enough was enough. Suddenly with absolute clarity, I saw myself standing at a fork in the road. Go down one path and continue this decay. Float along. Caught in a perpetual hangover, not under-performing at work, but not over-performing. Torturous Mondays watching the clock, desperate to get home and lay like a slob on the sofa. Exhausted Tuesdays, unable to think let alone talk about shit. Vague Wednesdays where the feeling of strength and positivity is only created by the fact that tomorrow is Thursday. And then Thursday. Start it all again. A few drinks after work, maybe home around midnight, maybe not. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday just a blur of pubs, clubs, drugs and excess. Rinse, repeat ad infinitum.

As to what lay down the other path, I had no idea. To be honest, I still don't. That's what this blog is about. This is my account of what lies down the other path. If you find yourself standing at that fork in the road, then I hope to inspire you. If you're just looking for a balls-out honest and amusing read, then I hope to entertain you. Either way, through this process I hope to capture what one party animal achieved by just saying no.