This was a difficult post to sit down and begin to pen. I can use excuses like “There’s just so much going on!” (but when is there not?), however I think what it actually boils down to is: it’s incredibly challenging – nearly impossible – to quantify the emotions, lessons learned, and reflections from the past two years of early recovery. But I will endeavor to do so.
When I first opened a new tab to attempt to write this post the night before my two-year soberversary, I was overcome with an array of conflicting emotions. I have read in more than one ‘quit lit’ book – and on numerous Instagram accounts and probably heard it on a podcast or two – how much a person really feels their feelings after getting sober. And I can absolutely attest to that. 1,000%. Living proof! I feel like I’m PMS even when I’m not and I wonder several times a week “if something is wrong with me” (hilarious – pick a subject). I cry when I read articles about Eliud Kipchoge or watch that interview with his bottle guy from the Berlin Marathon or when my dad tells me how proud he is of me (“when it mattered” tattoo coming soon to a wrist near you) or when I finish a 20-mile training run. It’s absolutely ridiculous how DEEPLY I feel my emotions. After an entire decade of numbing them, they have risen to the surface – and they have A LOT to say.
One of the aforementioned conflicting emotions was this instinct that I’ve had, over the past few weeks, that I’m just so… disappointed, I suppose, that I’m not happier about my sobriety, prouder of where I’m at, or content with my life. There are a number of factors that are playing into this. As you’ve read in literally any of my previous posts (hashtag unhinged), I am so miserable in Northern Hellville. (And yes: I’m STILL here…) But as I’ve reflected on this recently, I’ve begun to think that maybe I am the problem. Sure, I will absolutely feel better and less stressed – and be able to hear myself think and maybe start writing my memoir – when I move somewhere quieter, hopefully to that dream cabin I speak of with great frequency (and urgency). However, I’ve noticed a pattern with much of my misery and I think some of it comes from within. It’s a fine line though: on the one hand, yes, certain people are not cut out for certain types of environments (can you imagine me in a city, for instance? The suburbs are hellacious enough!), but you also have to bring your own sunshine and try to find a way to make the best of the situation(s). I will concede that there are advantages to where I live: I can get whatever I want, within reason (but not my dream man), delivered from Amazon or Road Runners, usually within 48 hours. I sort of doubt that will be the case when I’m in the country. If I have a medical emergency, I can get to the nearest ER or Urgent Care within 20 minutes or less. There are places to run – many parks nearby – and I’m not relegated to running on a busy road or through cornfields. Those are probably not the best examples, but it gives you an idea of how I am trying to reshape my “misery mindset.”
As far as the statement about not being happier about/with my sobriety, that is a pretzel I have yet to untwist! How could something so incredible, so monumental, so life-changing, not be enough for me? Especially given the fact that, without even trying, I inspired one of my childhood and life-long best friends to break up with booze, too? (So think what I could do with a plan or when I write my book or if I get hired by SAMHSA or a similar organization). I want to be able to support people who are struggling to get sober; to be inspirational and someone whom you can turn to, trust, and in whom you can find comfort and hopefully advice. I want to tell my story, shout it from the rooftops, and help play a role in smashing the stigma surrounding alcoholism and addiction. I believe that, through telling our stories and speaking our truth, we might be able to make a difference in this disconnected and broken world. And I believe this might be my purpose: if I can touch just one other life, that will be enough for me. I didn’t suffer in vain – but I also didn’t get sober merely for my own benefit. I know that there is something greater; something bigger than me. Now the question is how to execute this and how to fulfill this purpose.
While my parents were in town (if you read this post, you know how over the moon I was to finally be reunited with my dad after almost 10 months apart!), we celebrated with an alcohol-free sparkling wine they brought me from Terra Germania that tasted sort of like how I imagine sparklers would: the very definition of crisp effervescence. (An aside: I just did a light Google to see if Total Alcoholism carries it here and it appears they do). Also quick shoutout to Freixenet, if any of their reps ever happen to read this. My family is a big fan of your AF bevvies and yes, I’d love to review your products or do marketing for you at any point; thank you very much – and talk soon. Papa Z then made the sweetest toast about my grit and tenacity (I really should have written it down but I was far too preoccupied “cutting onions”), and I was immediately in tears. It was not only because of the touching words expressed by my number one fan or the fact that he is SO proud of me, but also, the sadness I felt in that moment, that I’m not happier about my sobriety. Which is what I told them, as they were of course somewhat alarmed about my mini meltdown. I really struggle with wishing I had more to “show” for two years of showing up and pushing through and learning how to cope without the crutch of alcohol. Two years of truly trying to embody my very best, most authentic alcohol-free life. Two years of attempting to play “catch-up” to where I want to be in life. But it just feels like I should have accomplished more by now, especially in the past 730 days (also in general – I feel incredibly behind in life). All of that said, however, I would be remiss if I didn’t stop to reflect on how far I have come or some of the lessons I have learned in this new chapter.
Here are just a few of those reflections:
- I no longer turn to alcohol to cope with any kind of emotion. This probably sounds obvious, but most of the time, I don’t even THINK “Oh, I need a drink because X or Y just happened.” It doesn’t even cross my mind. That makes me want me to joy-SCREAM, “CHANGE IS POSSIBLE!!!!!” Because there was a time (literally an entire decade) when I would not and could not get through a bad day or an awkward date or a mediocre interview – or literally anything stressful – without immediately drinking about it afterwards.
- I’ve learned how to be present. I’m not always the best at focusing (the ADHD struggle is reaaal), but I try to live in the moment, whether I’m on a date or with my “dude du jour” or a dear friend or family member: I try to be fully there for them, listening and absorbing the present moment. This was definitely not always the case.
- I let little things go. Okay, NOT the 24/7 noise pollution (we are now in the leaf blowing ring of Dante’s inferno, which is the most frustrating thing considering that this is my absolute FAVORITE season, ironically – but sorry, I digress), however other things, yes. I used to get so wrapped around the axle when I had a frustrating meeting aka WoT (Waste of Time). I still do, to an extent, but now I bitch about it on FaceTime with my sibling – and then I move on. I’m still working on learning how to ignore bikers but in general, I would say I let the LITTLE things go. (Dating is a great example: I just let them walk out; it’s never worth the chase or the headache and heartbreak, I’ve come to find). And bikers are by no means little… So, one thing at a time.
- I have a plethora of passions and hobbies that are truly fulfilling. When I first got sober, it was all touch and go in the early days. When the brain fog cleared, I realized, “Huh. I don’t really have that many interests besides wine…” As time went on, I remembered things I enjoyed doing earlier on in life, such as baking, writing, reading, and of course, RUNNING. I did run during most of my active addiction but NOT daily and not with the fervor and intensity that I do now. And I certainly wasn’t setting insane marathon goals for myself! Now, I stay busy all the time – and it’s so rewarding to bake cookies or muffins for a friend or neighbor and revel in the fact that I have an immeasurable amount of fun doing something without booze! My former self could never.
- I HAVE REALIZED MY SELF-WORTH. (I just whisper-screamed that as I typed it; it was therapeutic). This is of course also due in large part to the breakup + aftermath with my ex, however my sobriety – and thus, clarity and a clear mind – has allowed me to wake up to the reality of what I deserve and of my incredible self-worth. When I was still actively addicted, I wanted to numb my pain, my loneliness, my anxiety with anything I could get my hands on, shitty men included. Now, my standards are so high, I need a ladder just to check in on them. It has started to sink in at this late, late juncture that I may never get married – and that’s alright. Because I would rather be alone than be with someone who doesn’t respect me or isn’t completely my equal. I’ll either find him or I won’t – but I will never settle.
- I know exactly what I want in life. I also know what I DON’T want. (Kids, for example, do not fit into my life goals anywhere. I looked several times and I checked the microwave for a memo, to throwback quote a friend from college, but nope: they are not it, to quote the young folk). I was so unsure of the direction I wanted my life to take back when I was actively addicted. I was always in survival mode; I was continually waiting for cocktail hour or “wine o’clock” or the next winery outing. You can’t make any real plans for the future when all of your plans constantly center around alcohol. Now I’m working on buying that cabin in the woods or out in the country, where I will pen my memoir and adopt a sibling or two for Basil. I intend to qualify for Boston, run it the following year(s) and then figure out what world majors I want to target. (Berleeeen, I will see you in a few years!) I desire to spend more time with my dad, maybe run another race together; make it to the homeland twice-ish a year and travel places like Ireland (finally). I want to live out a life with purpose, as I mentioned above, where I am able to truly help someone else and make a difference in their life and their sobriety journey.
As I wrote in the beginning of this post, it is really a challenge to even begin to articulate my “recovery reflections” or how much I’ve grown as a person. How could I possibly capture all that I have learned over the course of the past TWO years in ONE blog post? (Plus, that’s what my future memoir is for… Shameless plug before it’s even in draft form!) But I do think the above list is a decent sampling of some of these lessons. There is so much to reflect on in my recovery thus far – and I feel incredibly fortunate that I get a second chance at life, a chance to start again sober. My cup truly runneth over.