It’s after midnight, and sleep is only beginning to look like an option. My body is humming, and I keep on losing track of time. I haven’t felt like this since the amphetamine days. I stayed late at the office working on a couple of personal projects, and tonight I came home to cook dinner, pack for a weekend away and patch a newly torn hole in my favorite jeans.
I can’t quite explain where all this energy is coming from, especially since (or because) I haven’t had caffeine for over a week. Or refined sugar, or bleached flour, or any processed foods. I’ve also passed on cheese and alcohol.
The last couple of months saw me working late, going out late, eating poorly, and drinking quite a bit. Since I moved to New York, I’ve started a new job; began and ended what had looked like a promising relationship; not to mention the fact that New York is just, well, New York.
I realize that I tend to write more about the Mantras than about the Martinis. Maybe it’s a kind of ego-driven navel gazing – or maybe it’s my way of tempering the everyday madness. But let’s not be mistaken, I have my vices.
And all of it was beginning to take a toll. I could feel it in my hair, in my skin, in my toes. But I wasn’t quite ready to do anything about it. Because, to be honest, I was also having fun. I was high on the frenetic energy at work. I was eating delicious foods and drinking expensive wines. I felt rushed and indulgent at the same time, and I kind of liked it.
Every now and then, I think about slowing down. I take the weekends off, not talk to anyone, and just wander around Brooklyn. But soon enough, I get caught up again in the melee again.
On the recommendation of a friend, I started a ten-day detox. I was so wiped out from the wedding weekend (plenty of vices there, too) I couldn’t tell if my symptoms were caffeine withdrawal, allergies, a cold, or simply just being overtired. I slept so much! I’ve never slept so much in my life. But I’ve been cooking, and eating well for a week and a half now. I made it over the hump.
I can’t tell you if it’s the yoga, the food, or just the pattern of the stars. But I’d like to remember that I feel this way right now, because I’m sure the pendulum will swing toward Martinis again and I’ll find myself exhausted, standing in front of the vending machine after nine on a worknight – or waking up hungover, dry, groggy, and angry – wondering how I got back there.