My profound hangover

Sunday Scaries: Discovering ancient wisdom hungover at a grocery store and rediscovering what Payton already knew

The only image I captured yesterday.

I was hungover as shit today. All day yesterday was a spontaneity fest that saw me at a pool party one minute, dancing with an elderly woman at a Salvadorian food hole-in-the-wall, and ended the night country dancing in another city. The hangover was earned, that’s what I’m trying to say.

At some point this afternoon, I mustered some scarce energy to get out to the grocery store, which is 45 minutes away, and the insanely beautiful weather required the windows down. For a nice extra touch, I didn’t play any music, I simply breathed in the quiet.

That’s when today’s phenomenon started. In whatever day-after voodoo like state I was in, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet and routine life is. The cows laying by the fence. The car in front of me going ten miles an hour under the speed limit (and my noticeable restraint of speeding past them). The wind blowing in my ear when I take my hand down. It’s all just...there.

And it continued at the store. The quiet, the mundane, the heads down, the get in and get out. All the available vegetables there were noticeably smaller than usual. That detail has absolutely no bearing on the story but it makes me laugh so I’m keeping it in.

While mulling over the absurdity of the veg, I could hear this subtle hum of the comings and goings of people. No voice was singled out, it all blended together into a soothing monotonous symphony of mundanity. Even the pervasive and somehow easily ignorable “beeps” from the cashiers felt to me like they were in on it.

Before I got into all the wondrous adventures yesterday, I met up with a friend who currently lives where my late best friend used to live (don’t worry, I’m going somewhere with this, I know I dish pivots out like those free shirts at a ball game, but this ties in I swear). It’s been a long time since I have actually chatted about him in depth, and I felt honored to share his story.

My friend Payton died at 35 years old, and suddenly, of a heart condition just over 3 years ago. Prior to his untimely death, my boy LIVED. I don’t say this lightly, because I am known for my energetic approach to life, but he blew me out of the water. He was a beautiful human being. Kind, adventurous, hilarious, generous and hell bent on making everyone’s life around him that much better. He succeeded.

As I was telling my friend yesterday about all of that, I was reminded about some news I heard after his death. See, no one knew he had a heart condition except him. He had gone to a cardiologist in 2018 and told no one. He also upped his life insurance after. All signs pointed to his knowing something, and there was a significant shift in how he showed up in life after that.

He had painted an incredible picture of showing up with intent, with joy, with curiosity and ambition. He always had those qualities, but they somehow meant more after 2018. The tragedy to me, besides the obvious, is that most people don’t really show up until some news.

That’s what hit me today.

Today I realized how beautiful it all is. The dancing with elderly strangers as well as the comically undersized vegetables. It’s all there if you simply look and listen. Payton knew that, and in my hungover stupor I smiled at the image of him, nodding his head in approval of this message.

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Most of us are waiting for the news. The diagnosis, the loss, the wake-up call that finally gives us permission to pay attention. Payton didn’t wait. And today, accidentally, neither did I.

So here’s your challenge this week:

Let something slow you down and don’t fight it. The slow car, the long checkout line, the detour you didn’t plan. Stay in it for a minute. No music, windows down if you can manage it. Notice what’s there.

The spontaneous dancing and the undersized vegetables are equally available to you. You just have to look up.

Stay light,
-EP

Sunday Scaries is a weekly personal essay series published every Sunday evening at 8:15PM Central. Each piece is an honest look at something I’m working through or experiencing in real life and ends with a challenge for you to take into the week. The whole idea is to take that ever-familiar Sunday evening dread, and turn the energy back into ourselves with intent.
No self-help, no fluff. Just real, and something to do with it.