It’s no secret that I spent the entirety of my 20’s self-medicating in order to cope with every possible emotion: sadness, anger, stress, loneliness, frustration, disappointment, the whole gamut. Drinking wasn’t just something I did to manage all of the aforementioned feelings, though: it was also the center of my social life. Dates were at bars and weekend afternoons with girlfriends were spent at local wineries. When one of my best friends and I went on our annual beach trip, we could have opened our own shoreside sip shack with all the Rosé and hard seltzer we packed. Even work centered around alcohol, especially my last job in corporate before I left for the non-profit sector, which will be relatable to those of you who work in the corporate world and know all too well how it is. In my Admin role, I was responsible for planning events and Happy Hours – and guess who was often given some of the leftover wine to take home? It makes me cringe reliving this; what did I expect would happen? And so, reflecting on this chapter of my life, it is not at all surprising that I got as sick as I did, given that alcohol was everywhere I turned. When I traveled overseas, I drank to celebrate that I would see my family within hours, and when I arrived, I drank because I was on vacation. (It should also be noted that I drank to even get on an airplane: I get stressed just thinking about airports and my fear of flying has always been out of hand. Up until roughly 2019, it had never been addressed by a doctor. Now I am armed with Ativan and so thankful for its existence, as that tiny white pill has enabled me to stay sober through one of my least favorite, most stress-inducing activities.)
As the curtain drew to close on this booze-saturated decade, I was so caught up in the vicious cycle of drink –> experience hangxiety + shame + panic –> rinse and repeat, that I don’t think I really enjoyed it anymore. It was something I was programmed to do and by that point, I did it just to feel “okay”. By the end of the work day (frankly, at the end of any day that ended in -y), I felt that I had “earned” my multiple glasses of wine. Of course, capping off a stressful day with alcohol was just making everything worse but I was too far gone to realize this. I was in such a habit of drinking that I couldn’t imagine doing anything else at the end of the day. (Fast forward to the present, I am so busy that I barely ever think about wine in the evenings – and for that I am so grateful. I also am delighted about all of the alcohol-free (AF) beverages that are on the market now. What a time to be alive sober! I will be sharing some of my favorites on the blog in a future post). At the height of the pandemic and subsequently the depths of my drinking despair, I felt absolutely horrible 24/7 – and every day felt the same as the day before (reference previously mentioned vicious cycle). I was physically, emotionally, and mentally as unwell as a person can be, while still managing to hold a job, take care of their cat, and keep everything together – but just by a thread. Looking back, I am certain that it never even occurred to me that I could or would break free from this vicious cycle. I was stuck in the center of a hurricane of my own doing and I had no idea how to break through the eyewall to better weather. It took a seemingly anticlimactic moment of realizing I was absolutely 100% done with my own bullshit for me to finally put down the bottle for good. There were a multitude of events that led up to this moment; there were countless other occasions after which I could have said “enough is enough!”, more stories than there are hours in the day. And there were certainly many instances when I tried to cut back or moderate. But I think some small voice of reason in my head managed to break through and speak to me that night. It was simultaneously the quietest, seemingly insignificant moment – and yet also a pivotal turning point, a perfect paradox. And it was truly a miracle.
On October 12, 2020, I stood in my kitchen staring at the clock on the microwave. The amount of anxiety cursing through my body could have easily powered a plane across the Atlantic Ocean. I had the day off for Columbus Day and was already fretting about work and how I was going to get through what I knew I needed to do, i.e. get and stay sober. I remember feeling like I could just curl up in a ball and die – and that would be fine with me. It was 10:15 PM when I had my last drink, ironically a German beer. In the days that followed, I experienced withdrawal symptoms that rivaled the worst flu bugs I’d had in my life, and getting through one task to the next was at times nearly impossible. I was in complete survival mode. But somehow I muddled through and found little things to look forward to, as I slowly started to feel human again, as the anhedonia faded, and as the shakes and nausea dissipated.
I know that the future is uncertain and the possibility of relapse will always loom, but I am steadfast in my decision to stay sober and to continue learning how to cope without the crutch of alcohol. One of my favorite mantras on difficult days, when I have a project or a task that I’m overwhelmed by, is “If you can get sober, you can do anything.” And I believe this to be true for others, too: overcoming addiction has to be one of the greatest struggles in this life, especially when you are on your own. But no one is going to do it for you. That is something I learned along the way, in many of my first attempts to moderate, get healthier, and ultimately, cut alcohol out of my life altogether. In 2019, in my first (failed) foray into sobriety, I thought someone was going to save me from myself, that they would magically appear and say all of the right things and it would somehow inspire me to eschew this poison for good.
Adjusting to life without alcohol has been a wild ride, friends. In a society that is saturated with alcohol and every single event centers around booze, it is quite easy to remember how I got so dependent upon the bottle to begin with – and why it was so difficult to quit. But it’s not always a challenge: the easy days are better than I can describe and often effortless, to the point where I sometimes forget that my previous life was MY life; it feels like it was a bad movie I watched or a terrible nightmare that stuck with me. And the bad days, well, they are very draining, frustrating, and require a lot of “doing the next right thing.” I have been incredibly fortunate, however, to have been able to manage and navigate most of early sobriety and recovery on my own. I have never been a proponent of Alcoholics Anonymous for myself, though I applaud those who are active in AA and who have found it to be integral to their sobriety. I am aware that it is a lifeline for many people. So what’s worked for me? Therapy was an enormous help in the early days, something I would recommend for anyone, regardless of whether they are struggling with addiction or not. Life is HARD and we are all products of every single thing that has happened to us in our lives up to this point. Having an unbiased third party to use as a sounding board and with whom to work on developing new coping mechanisms is absolutely invaluable. And exercise – I cannot possibly stress the importance of that. Running has always been part of my life, but in early recovery, it became the new center of my existence. As my priorities changed, my focus shifted to my running and setting related goals: a one-year running streak (currently in progress!) and an eventual Boston Qualifying (BQ) marathon time, among others. I PR’ed in November 2021, running my fastest marathon time and crushing my goal of a sub 3:50. Knowing that I will run every single day has given me something to anticipate and to look forward to, that doesn’t threaten to take everything from me and isn’t dangerous or laden with guilt. There is far more to be said about coping mechanisms and sobriety “tools” or resources, which I intend to explicate in a future post.
This is, in many ways, just the beginning. I hope that by telling my story, I can inspire others to share their struggles and perhaps I might even encourage someone who is caught up in the vicious cycle that I once was. I can tell you this, without a shadow of doubt: a life free of alcohol is infinitely better than I could ever have imagined. I get to be fully present for all of the beautiful moments: sunsets on an evening run; stealthy fox sightings; belly laughter with good friends; Basil jumping into bed to snuggle; a first kiss; celebrating some good news. In the last 20 months, I have found much clarity and (some) peace. I have grown tremendously as a person and learned a great deal about myself. I have set new goals and realized dreams and aspirations. I now live a life that is full of things I enjoy doing, none of which are shrouded in shame: running; baking; cleaning (yes, I do enjoy this immensely!); spending time with friends in a setting where alcohol is not the focus; crying with laughter on the phone with my sibling – to name a few. I don’t think I would have started writing or blogging again if I was still actively addicted – and I don’t think I would have nailed down what I want in life. I certainly never would have found the words or had the courage to share my story with you. I am so grateful for the chance to start again sober – it is truly the greatest gift.
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