Partying Remorse

This is an interesting one, and I wonder how many of you experience this as well.

I have noticed that after going out, staying up, drinking, having a good time, etc, there is a strange lurking feeling the next day that I did something wrong. This is a little more than next-day hangover depression. In fact, it's something I brought up to my therapist years ago, and she dove into questioning why I felt that way, wondering why I could not just allow myself the experience of having fun and leave it there.

The questioning brought up so many layers.

One that came forward first was an experience I had when I was 19. A few friends and I went to Vancouver, B.C. to party and explore. It overall was an amazing experience, and I highly recommend the Vancouver Aquarium to anyone who might be heading that way. However, one of the nights we went to grab drinks in Gastown, and we ran into the owner of Stegel. It was my friend's favorite beer, and he was so happy he bought us all a few rounds.

It was all wonderful fun, until I got a bit too drunk and started talking about my abusive father. I was pretty closed off about things like that back then, and one of the friends with me was absolutely horrified that I would divulge such a thing. I felt terrible the next day and vowed to watch my mouth when I drank.

Then, at 20, I was drugged and raped. I thought I was somewhere safe, but I wasn't, and I let my guard down. This happened twice more in my life, both in situations where I thought I trusted the people around me.

Needless to say, I was very distrustful for a while and became more closed off as a result. I think this is an obvious reason to feel remorse. There is a horrific guilt with rape, especially when you don't remember so much of it. So, I think then, any time after, when control is lost, it triggers that feeling - did I do something that I wasn't really there for? Was I taken advantage of, in ways I cannot know except by the lurking feelings in the recesses of my mind and the tense areas of my body? I feel that this, unfortunately, is a feeling many of us know, and that is in no way exclusive to a gender.

I turned my energy when participating in social libations into finding out more about people instead. I found it fulfilling, and it kept the attention off me.

However, through years of therapy and diving into the depths of my shadow, I have really turned that around. I am surrounded by light-giving people who make me feel safe and loved, and I return with the utmost light and openness.

Or, so I thought.

This feeling began yanking at my strings just a bit ago. Nothing had happened, it was a very intimate group of absolute soul-people. People where nothing is off the table, and every feeling is valid. We stayed up late and talked about life.

And yet, there it was, the next-day... that... yuckie feeling.

Now, I know the next-day blues, and this is different. I pondered the pulling, this uncomfortable, subtle distress. And this time, instead of excusing it, I kept diving, and I thought, well, I'll just write about it then.

And finally, as I thought about writing this, it came to me, in the form of a roll of images in my mind. It felt like a little, hilarious slap in the face. Oh, of course, how funny I could box that up and kick it under the bed like it didn't exist! The root of this feeling - my father.

No surprise, right?

Here's the real kicker, the original story of how I was trained to have partying remorse:

My father loved to drink. But, no one else loved when he drank. He threw things ranging from vases to insults that could cut the core of your being and skin. The house riddled with holes in the walls covered by lovely little paintings.

When I was young, my father would have me drink with him, "to bond." He would get me drunk to, as he would say, "learn about me." He said he would do this to all his friends and clients, so that he could see their real selves. He said people couldn't lie when they were drunk.

Naturally, even as a young girl, I knew that statement was important, so I came up with new tactics during our uneasy, drunk talks. I taught myself to lie while intoxicated, or act pleasantly aloof if I could not respond fast enough. In response, my father began telling me about all the women he would cheat on my mom with, about how men would only ever love me for my body, about why he couldn't trust men around me. He told me things a father should never share with a child.

Then, he began taking me out to drink. He would take me to meet his friends and co-workers. He would offer me to them, making sure they noticed how beautiful I was, and wouldn't they want to date me? They would nod along like an Epstein entourage.

...

The point of this story, is not anger, but discovery. I am excited and relieved to have finally uncovered the last portion of this remorse for now I can heal. Now, I can finally let it go because I can see it and know.

I have forgiven my father many times over, but I do not actively associate with him. At a certain point, when people hurt you that much, that repeatedly, with no outlook for change, you must leave them. They do not deserve you, and giving in at that point, is just enabling the behavior.

I don't care if they're you're kin.