Tonight I promise to get wasted! Not drunk!
By: Erlinda Piza
Tags: Depression, Life, Alcohol

I’ve tried to a couple times before, but this time I will prevail

I’ve never been one to use drugs, alcohol, or strenuous exercise as tools to cope with stress… or with anything. Many around me do, and as I observe their bliss lighting a joint, opening a bottle of wine or tying on new running shoes, I feel envious, as if I’m missing an opportunity.

Moral principles or health ailments have nothing to do with my semi clean way of life, unpolluted by benign –or maybe not, modern addictions. On the contrary, as a struggling spiritual social mess in a fairly fit body (that could lose 10 pounds), I’m a great candidate for these popular and cheap DIY therapies. Laziness, Layyy-ZZZ-mess is the problem.

I tend to procrastinate on anything and everything related to practicing new forms of self-care. I can’t even manage to finish my glass of wine –always half full, not half empty, like my view of the world on the holidays. (And 70% of the time, but that’s another story).

The prospect of letting myself go for a night, celebrating family in a mellow, tipsy fuzz, dragging my boots to the COVID-safe buffet without counting calories, and taking my mask off, perfectly carefree to fill up this year’s anxiety with ounces of horrible alcohol, excites me to the core. And that will be my Christmas gift from me to me.

Knowing myself for 51 years I’ve prepared a 3 step military contention strategy to guarantee I will defeat the the anti-borrachera guerilla this time. It’s always been armed, well equipped and determined to professionally blow off my fun plans and submit me into depression every Holiday.

You might want to take note if you struggle with anxiety, self-care and seasonal laziness to get drunk in a party. (It might come extra handy during office parties too.)

I plan to leave my cellphone home. It’s going to be hard not to lose myself checking on work chats and emails when the aguardiente shots are being served. I know I will feel compelled to answer the sweet congratulatory texts and the filthy Santa memes from funny friends I miss. But, to keep my focus on the bottle, I’m eradicating all iPhone temptations. I plan to get divorced from anyone — human or pet, generating drama. It’s likely that my kids will dress inappropriately, forget to wear masks, fight amongst themselves for masks and/or complain for stupid stuff before we leave home. My dogs will surely whine and protest when they see me sprint out the door, all fabulously committed to have fun. That’s why I will be treating all of them like perfect strangers and COVID carriers I should avoid and drink for. I plan to hire Mr. $anta Venmo to take care of my nieces and nephews. I will feel anxious, very, extremely uncomfortable, when dutifully packed Christmas gifts with golden tags and loud hugs are being exchanged, because I forgot to buy presents this year period. Nonetheless, by that time I hope to be drunk and give three fucks. Whatever generosity expectations I won’t meet, Venmo will take care of. Moreover, teens rather get $ than anything that can fit under a tree.

My philosophy is that I deserve to chill for a night in a tough year capitalizing on free alcohol and the company of my beautiful family — who will most likely give me great presents and receive none from mua. I know they won’t care, at least my brothers, especially if I get really wasted with them. They are a bit like that. Both.

In a final act of kindness I granted myself a pre-pardon to collapse in bed without flossing and skip the night-cream ritual. I will also forgo the sleeping pills to snooze like most humans do, drunk or not.

When I wake up tomorrow, fully dressed, I promise to thank God for my blessings and for a hangover I deserve. Amen and cheers.