Social hangovers are very real – and this autumn I’m surrendering to them

I have the curse of being the textbook ‘social butterfly’. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the ‘life and soul’ of any party.

Talking came easy to me (unsurprisingly for a Geordie). I savoured the heady high of having stimulating conversations with people – friends, family and strangers alike.

I loved meeting new people, holding eye contact with inquisitive eyes – listening to secrets, stories and gossip. There’s no feeling quite like it.

This summer especially has been a constant high. My first Glastonbury, Pride, weddings, hen dos, weekend raves, family parties, gigs, weekends away, new clients, networking events, and house parties. 

The end of two years of lockdown meant the beginning of socialising once again, after two years of clumsily making eye contact through a computer screen, thick sheet of plastic, or peering over a mask.

Except, now, I’m exhausted more often than not. Mentally and physically cream crackered, but not especially from late night dancing – from using up all of my energy talking to people.

Sometimes, I’ve even craved the repose of lockdown. 

It doesn’t matter whether it’s chatting sh*t to my mates, or giving my entire life story to a stranger I’ve just met – it takes it out of me, in a way I can’t quite explain. 

Take this weekend just gone. I went to a bridal brunch with 12 or 15 girls I didn’t know, then I went to a birthday bash for three people – accompanied by 45 friends, many of whom were strangers to me. Today, I’m so tired. Drained of social fuel and I want nothing more than to sit in a still, dark room.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like this. I know many friends who have cancelled plans due to tiredness they can’t quite explain.

But now, with October reaching around the corner, I feel like I want to fold summer socialising away with my short dresses and skirts, and welcome in the comfortable clothes of autumn.

It feels like a feeble, made-up excuse – much the same as a real hangover

Yet, imagine if I used a social hangover as an excuse not to go to a party? It feels like a feeble, made-up excuse – much the same as a real hangover. Yet, in reality, my mental health is running on empty and needs time to regenerate.

When it comes down to it, the more social activities you have planned, the longer that social hangover lingers. The more debilitating it becomes, making you a shell of yourself. Trust me, I’ve been there. I know that I’ve not been myself at events that have been important, simply because I’m spent. Running on empty, my mind going blank.

So it’s important to recuperate, rather than power through. Some deal with it much like they would a real hangover, embracing the ‘hair of the dog’ approach and getting back to it, but for others, it’s not that easy. 

Recuperating could simply mean an extra hour in bed, or an afternoon slumped in your disgusting comfy clothes, accompanied by Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations and Selling Sunset. A walk, without headphones to listen to, well, nothing.

Your social life should be treated like a work calendar. Sometimes you’ve got too much on so you have to say no – to focus on the most important jobs and projects. At first, friends were a little taken aback. Asking me if I was OK, or thinking it was another terrible, made-up excuse – but then, the more I explained, the more they understood. And started to relate. 

I’m telling myself that it’s OK to just say no. To allow myself to recharge and not feel guilty about it – and it’s something we should all be way more mindful of. 

We shouldn’t be making bullsh*t excuses simply because we’re tired, or saying you’ll turn up then flake at the last minute…without saying anything. I’ve definitely made excuses for events that I ‘should’ be at simply because I’m not up to it – that I just *can’t* today. 

Instead, I’m using my social hangovers as a reason not to come. Being honest when I don’t want to talk anymore. That I’m all spent up and want to button up my mouth, and unbutton my pants to watch crap telly. 

Sometimes, like with a real hangover, it’s the only cure.