Photo: Maria Teneva
Let me take you back to somewhere in 2006 when I had to lead a two-hour class, totally hungover, while having to yell above the pitter-patter of rain on the zinc roof of our hairdressing academy.
Wait, did I throw you too deep into the action? Need some context? Perhaps I could take you back a few hours earlier, to when I walked into the academy smelling like a distillery, and throwing up into the first wastepaper basket I saw.
Still too vague? A little further, then.
It was the night before and I’m at a club with my colleague Marc, because what else was a twenty-three year old going to do on a Friday night?
Sure, we were hairdressing mentors, and we had classes to teach the next morning, but you try telling a young adult that he should forgo a night of fun just so he could perform overtime with extra zeal.
Also, while you’re at it, perhaps you can also tell him to pace himself with the drinks, because we all know how our young idiotic selves love to go for broke every time there’s alcohol involved. No? Just me? Okay then.
Anyway, I already knew that the next day was going to be a problem when I had to tell our designated driver to stop three times so that I can puke at the side of the highway. But I was young and invulnerable, and work could go screw itself.
I’ll just sleep it off and go to work as usual, I told myself. Ha. Ha ha ha.
Paying the price
Now I’m somewhat of a people pleaser who’d rather stay unhappy just so others won’t hate me, so when my alarm rang at eight in the morning, my fear of getting an earful from the boss had me up and going in ten minutes.
And that was a good thing, because if it wasn’t for that, I’d have most probably come up with an excuse just to call in sick. By some miracle, I was able to get ready and get to work on time, but truth be told, the details are particularly hazy on this day.
My class was due to start soon, and most of the students were already talking about my puking-in-wastepaper-basket fiasco.
“I can’t take the class,” I told Marc. That dude was as drunk as I was the night before, yet he seemed fine that morning, and I resented him for that. Maybe him being a head taller than me had something to do about his alcohol metabolism. “You’ll have to cover for me.”
“No man,” Marc said. “If Pete hears about this, you’ll be in real deep shit. No one’s going to pity you for being hungover, so I suggest you suck it up and do your job.”
He had a point, and once again, Marc had tapped into my people-pleasing personality. I was going to do this because it meant escaping my boss’ and colleagues’ wrath.
“At least shuffle the classes a little bit. I’ll take the last session.” That gave me about four hours to recover, lunch break included. I’ll be fine after this, I told myself. Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha.
Time’s up
So our hairdressing academy was located on the highest floor of a shopping mall, and for some reason, we had hollow zinc sheets as roofs, and when my turn came to lead the class, fate saw it fit to throw me another challenge in the form of heavy rain.
I could barely speak without sending waves of nausea ricochetting through my innards, so having to speak over the din really was a lesson in attrition, one that I still recall to this day whenever I need proof that I can do hard things.
David Goggins has his three Hell Weeks in his cookie jar, I have my hungover yelling session.
But I did it. By the gods, I did it. Thanks to Marc’s advice, I managed to hold up my end of the bargain and not get into trouble at work. I also learned that no matter how much I think I can do, I can always do better.
Feeling normal again
I remember the moment I returned to Earth. Marc and I were having dinner after work, and between a mouthful of pork noodles, I realised that I didn’t feel like death anymore (well, relatively, at least).
I remember saying, “I’m back.” I remember swearing off alcohol for the rest of my life (ha ha). I remember being able to smile once more. Most importantly, I remember the joy of finally breaking through to the other side of that pain.
I think about that moment a lot, because it was the only time I’ve ever transitioned from being shitfaced to being normal again during my waking moments. The other times I’d gotten this drunk, I basically just slept it off.
There I was, trying not to move my head for the fear of seeing the world spin, and then I was fine a few minutes later.
It’s an important memory for me because that’s how I sometimes feel in real life too.
Some days I see the world in technicolour, and the general sense of doom doesn’t linger over me as it usually does, and I get a brief taste of what ‘normal’ feels like.
But those are fleeting moments, and the leave as quickly as they come. Sometimes I feel like I’m just going to have to live my entire life hungover, to accept this as my norm.
Then I remember the time when I didn’t just survive a particularly bad hangover, but did more than I thought I could. And I don’t know if I’ll ever make it out from under these dark clouds, but you know what? At least I know I’m perfectly capable of holding my own until the next time I get to say “I’m back.”
Your Friendly Malaysian Writer 
Hahaha this totally resonated with me. In my 20s we could go out all night and drink our faces off, and still be somewhat functional the next day. Now…drinking two glasses of wine or maybe two beers is the limit or I feel like absolute dog shit and need like, two days to recover. Any more…recovering from outpatient surgery requires less time than my hangovers!
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Wow, that was a lot to power through. I’m glad you made it. I wouldn’t wish that kind of experience on anyone, but it is interesting to think about being conscious of the transition between hangover and ah-back-to-normal.
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Alcohol is a weird thing for sure. You swear never to do it again when you do it, yet you crave it when it’s not there. And yeah, the transition thingie was a weird experience as well. Thanks so much for stopping by again!
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It’s weird too when you have the three states in the same day. One day I went to brunch, got drunk, got hangover a couple of hours later and then got right. Weird, weird feeling. Rooller coaster like.
I like how you wrote it, and it really does link with situations and to realize it will pass.
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Whoa that does sound like a rollercoaster ride indeed. I am still trying to cut alcohol out of my life, though I do fail a lot.
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I like how you narrated your story to explain your larger point. Sometimes I oddly get disappointed when I avert a dreaded challenge because I’ll always wonder if I could have done it. I think you’ve been doing a lot of good soul-searching lately. Thank you for sharing what you’re finding. I think it’s important not to feel as though one is hungover in life, unhappy, just getting through it, but rather that one got over that hill and feels better for having conquered it.
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I didn’t realise it, but I guess you’re right. I HAVE been doing some soul searching, maybe more involuntarily than otherwise, but yeah, every obstacle needs to be overcome instead of swept under the rug. It’s the act of coming face to face with our problems that we usually tend to avoid. Thanks for this comment, Hetty!
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I am a few years removed from going at it into the wee hours with booze. I’ve all but given it up. Nowadays I feel great pretty much every morning- and that does not get old (unlike me). Thanks!
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Oh yeah, the feeling of not having alcohol in your system as you wake up really does feel refreshing. Thanks for sharing your story. I appreciate it!
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Thanks For Sharing!
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And thank you for stopping by!
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Amazing !!!
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Aww thanks! I really appreciate your support!
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I feel you here. And you’re really taking me back to my karaoke days. All those nights of competition and practice and I never managed to drink up to, but not past, my limit. And yes, all those fun mornings of going to work hungover…the terrible decisions we make.
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Sometimes it’s good to go through those dreadful days though, isn’t it? At least it gives us pause whenever we’re faced with a similar situation in the future.
But of course, knowing me, I always pick the less-savvy decision, lol. Thanks for stopping by as always! I appreciate you :)
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I can’t count the number of times I picked that less savvy decision! It does give pause, but only if you learn from your previous ill-advised decision. 😂
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Stuart, my friend, I think there’s a story in your story. Could I be right? 🤨 That those who know the story can see it?
And there’s something else that I think: Those dark clouds can be a little like the wizard in The Wizard of Oz. The man is real, but not nearly as big as the idea of him.
Always praying that dark clouds move on, and take their storms with them, so that we can enjoy the light.
Most of us nod knowingly at 20-somethings and clubs. Because we know they’re not noble. Writing is noble. Relationships are noble. They’ll figure it out. Hopefully sooner than later.
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Lol, everything’s always a story within a story :P
But yeah, you’re right. The idea of something is definitely worse than the actual thing itself, and knowing that difference is something I can definitely work on. Thanks for your thoughts! It’s much appreciated.
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I’m happy to say I probably have not that hungover feeling, at least from a night out, in at least 25 years. It is a wonderful feeling waking up and feeling normal…
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Oh yeah, I mean that night’s buzz might be enticing, but usually thinking about waking up the next day without the feeling of dread makes it much easier to abstain. Thanks for stopping by, Jim!
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indeed it does!
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Awesome story. I only had one bad instance with alcohol. I was in high school. That’s when I realized, I wasn’t built for drinking. lol
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I too am probably not built for drinking, but I keep falling back to making that mistake, lol. Thanks for sharing your experience! It’s always good to not like alcohol.
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Oyy nothing worse than going to work while trying to nurse a vicious hangover (other than a broken heart I guess lol)… I don’t think I’ve even been hung over at work but I do distinctly remember getting off the subway bc I needed to find a place to yak asap… I ended up getting off the train and didn’t make it in time to a trash can and there were a ton of ppl around I puked in my sleeve… TMI? Lol sorry… *shivers*** ick never again!
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Lol no, this sounds like exactly the type of stories I’ll tell, lol.
Being on the train sounds so much worse, because you actually need to wait for it to arrive at a destination. And yeah, a broken heart can feel physically painful sometimes too.
Thank for sharing your stories with us!
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