I understand the impulse to eat the entire cake and begin again tomorrow. I get it and I've absolutely done it, from cake to cigarettes. But that beginning again tomorrow business has one fatal flaw: the night before. Night can be absolutely peaceful and restful, but we're not talking about those nights. We're talking about the nights when it's just you and the darkness, your inner monologue, and your unrelenting guilt, shame, and sorrow. It's the nature of the brain, it's the nature of darkness. It closes in and throws wide the door to our demons.
All that being said, beginning again is a practice I engage in again and again and it's always welcome. But this is what I've learned: don't begin again tomorrow. Begin again in the very next minute, the very next breath, wherever you are, whenever you are. Get that long dark tea time of the soul over with in the light, while you're still on your feet. Cast long shadows. Turn a critical eye to this restart. Distance yourself; make some kind of analytical list.
Take a deep breath and begin again. Then, sleep well.