The other weekend I flew over to Melbourne for a whirlwind visit, a night of drinking with old mates. Lots of beers with a few shots to chase them, spit roast, fire drum and a bunch of great friends I hadn’t seen for 3 years. Awesome, but I ended up with an emotional hangover that lasted a lot longer than the physical one.

It started when I got off the plane. We used to fly regularly when we lived there, and picked up a lot of visitors too. I had known the airport backwards, where to park for the overpass, shortcuts… but I didn’t know where I was. The freeway I had driven a hundred times had been redeveloped, and I was like a small town hick staring at the 10 lanes with flyovers.

I knew I was back in the big smoke, and I suddenly missed it like hell, that energy and the feeling of being somewhere close to the heart of it all.

The second hit was after I got back. A random LinkedIn request from someone I’d studied with 8 years ago. She was working in an ad agency, not one of the big names but still pretty interesting looking. There were 34 staff.

The smaller pond started to feel pretty shallow, and without realising it, my mood got pretty toxic. I caught myself out in a couple of really negative and cynical reactions.

I’d flirted with an old flame while drunk, and forgotten how happy I’d been to break up. I’d forgotten the precious things I had bought with that sacrifice: our second daughter, having family around, and finally buying a house. My agency might have 4 people, but we punch above our weight.

F**k the glass being half empty or half full, an empty glass is an opportunity for a new drink.

Bottoms up.

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