Well who wouldn't enjoy 3 nights off the coast of NZ on a relatively remote island you ask yourself?
No sane person that's for sure however, there is no way that I would classify myself as sane at the moment.
I went with my 23 year old, her boyfriend (both lovely) and my 10 and 11 year old, they were all great - and I for the most part ok. Going sober to an island rich in all things nature, bush walking etc is wonderful, however everyone drinks A LOT.
Don't get me wrong, it is not like Fiji or Hawaii, there is only one bar so one would think that drinking is not a major - WRONG. The 3 shops on the island have more alcohol than anything else for sale, apparently to supply the bored locals, tourists and huge influx of "boaties". Anyway, it drew my attention to the major amount of alcohol we all drink - and this is going to be hard, this path of sobriety.
The not-drinking part didn't seem to be the problem and I was doing fine (apart from thinking I was boring, thinking I was bored, thinking about what everyone else could do etc etc like an infernal record player stuck in a rut on 33 RPM). But today (the last day and the inner-boring struggle not enough) I decided that I would cry and feel like an insecure freak all day. It wasn't until we risked death on the 6-seater plane, that was super fun but as safe as a sardine can tied to an albatros, and flew home that I felt better.
I am turning into an agoraphobic perhaps? I think that to be a bit dramatic though, it is more likely that this process is making me raw and forcing me to look in the mirror and I really am not loving the reflection. Think I keep thinking, "why am I partner-less? Why do all the people have partners" blah blah blah wah wah all day long.
I was sick of myself by the end of the afternoon way more than anyone else was because, thankfully I kept most of the inner-dialogue to myself. I did that badly though, but mercifully everyone else was doing what they wanted so I only partially was a giant pain.
Too bad a bit though - this is a bloody process and damn-it, I'm on the train. I'm not getting off.