Four Things Three Sober Months Taught Me
Three months ago this week, I gave up alcohol.
To say I just decided to quit drinking is an oversimplification of what has been a years-long journey toward this moment. And in reality, it’s a journey that probably began with my first drink at 13 years old. There has been a part of me that has always known all roads would eventually lead here – Destination Sobriety. But there was another, louder part of me, that fought with all her might to push it off for as long as possible, believing with almost every part of me that drinking was social, fun, helpful, relaxing, a reward, and and my most fervent protector. I’ll write more about all of that later, but for now, just three months into learning what it means to live life without my most trusted crutch, I’m going to share a small glimpse into what’s changed for me in 90 days.
I no longer play the shame game
For me, drinking always resulted in feelings of shame. Crippling shame. To understand this, I need to admit that while I never drank every day – in fact, I always drank fewer days in a week than I had drinks; I consistently drank more than I wanted to. I would promise myself that I’d only have “two glasses of wine” and that promise was always broken. I’d swear I’d stop drinking at 11 pm so I could go to bed at a reasonable hour, and I would end up kicking myself, still awake at 1 am. And on and on. I could write out 100 examples of the ways in which I would abandon myself, usually with small choices no one else would notice. But it’s the decisions we make that are invisible to others that can be the most damaging to ourselves. From the outside, the world looks normal, put together, standing on all fours. But our interior worlds feel like frauds, ruled by chaos and no boundaries. It’s death by one thousand paper cuts. This weekly cycle would drive me into feelings of failure, weakness, and ultimately shame. I simply could not trust myself despite the trust others placed in me. And that is a lonely place to live. No one deserves to stand in a house of shame.
When I stopped drinking, day by day, I started to be able to trust myself. My actions, more often than not, now match my intentions. I feel more in integrity with myself than I have in a very long time. In the simplest of terms, my insides feel like they more fully match my outsides. Joy has slowly started to replace shame. Peace is starting to find me in unexpected ways and in surprising places.
I think about myself a lot less (thank God)
When we are caught in any cycle of behavior that feels misaligned with who we are, we can’t help but think about ourselves all the time. And this is the irony of it all. We feel horrible and small, but our egos are huge because we can’t get out of our own way. This is where I was. I was always wondering if I’d drink, what I’d drink, what others would think about what I was drinking, hoping I wouldn’t drink too much, blah, blah, blah. Then, after a night out, I’d spend the next day wondering if everything was okay, obsessed with trying to calm the uneasiness inside of me. In short, I was on a continuous “Deb Loop.” Now, with all the friction and mental gymnastics drinking created gone from my head, I have so much room for everything and everyone else. Life has become more expansive and more meaningful. I know I’ll always have main character energy (I am a Gemini after all), but putting all my self-important thinking to the side so that who and what I love can take center stage has been life affirming. Now, most days I feel like I am looking up and out; not just in the mirror. Let’s face it – I’m just not that important. And, I always want to remember that. I am a woman among women; a friend among friends; a human among humans. No more and no less.
God has become an every day God
Short story – I feel better, sleep better, and can focus on the important stuff.
Long story – because I’m taking better care of myself and my basic needs feel met, I can be more spiritually and mentally available (as well as physically present) for every day amazement. And it’s there. I have friends who call these little shots of shock and awe God winks or every day miracles; no matter what they’re called, they are real. Now, my God is less about grand gestures and more about showing me that everywhere and everyone is divine. I know, now more than ever, that I am not alone.
I know I can’t do anything important by myself
I’m not getting sober all on my own. It’s not about how much willpower I have; it’s about how much willingness I have to admit that I am a broken human who wants to be the best version of myself and then stand back to see who raises a hand to say “I can help you with that.” And I have so many people who’ve raised their hands and their voices to be by my side. We are raised to believe that we have to do hard things alone; that if we dig deep enough, we will find the strength needed to white knuckle it through the worst of situations. That’s how I’ve lived most of my adult life. And I’m not living like that anymore. I’ll take help, and I’ll give help. I’ll ask someone if they are okay. And if someone asks me how I am, I won’t be afraid to say “I’m not good right now.” Because if God is everywhere, that means God is a God of small moments. And we can be those small moments to each other.
I don’t pretend to have everything – or really, anything – figured out. I still have days, hours, minutes that truly feel awful. That is life. But focusing on growing through sobriety is starting to pull back the curtain on what this life means to me. And I do believe this is my highest calling. This is my story and mine alone. And it’s one I’ll continue to share as I put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.
