Once upon a time I could get up in the morning for a seminar, meet friends for lunch, attend a lecture on South American history, work for three hours, go home, eat, do two hours training, hit the SU bar, head to a club then be in bed by 2am and then do it all again. This would be a daily routine and as long as I had a lie-in at the weekend I’d be fine.
10 years later I am in bed at 8pm writing this without enough energy to even hold my head up. Right now, I’m lying on the bed with three very plump pillows under my chin raising my head up to a level where I can see the screen. You might wonder if I’m sick or if I had a hard day in the office – none of the above. I had one very, very late night on Saturday nd now I’m a heap of exhausted mess despite a good sleep yesterday.
I look back at my university days and feel tired at the thought of the nightly sessions. Perhaps the secret is to never stop, just keep going and it’ll all be OK. I’ve even turned to coffee to see me though days like this and I hate the stuff. I would drink those energy drink shots, but last time I had one my heart was beating a bit too fast for my liking and I got very agitated.
I blame a guy called Eddie for keeping me awake. If I had not seen his bright lights on my way home from the trendy bar I had spent the evening in I would have been in bed by 3.30 at the latest. But Mr Rocket beckoned me in and I didn’t put up a fight. It was 5am by the time my companion and I left, bidding farewell to the new friends we had made over burgers.
So this evening will be spent under a duvet, in a quiet corner of Dublin 6 while vowing to never drink again.