Home

Happy New Year, dear readers! It is absolutely mind-bending to think that 2024 is upon us. Where did last year go? I’ve been looking for her all over, to no avail.

2023 was a real doozy for me, to say the least. As you may have read in this post, I took the biggest leap of faith to date and moved to a new state, without knowing a single person. I thought the move would kill me; little did I know what other challenges lay ahead.

As I reflect on my recovery, which is something I think about every single day, I’m filled with a wide range of emotions, as is to be expected. On the one hand, I am not the person I was when I initially broke up with the bottle in 2020. You can read more about that here. But on the other, I worry that my series of slips in “Augtember” and late 2023 set me back; I tend to dwell on my mistakes and failures rather than focusing on how far I’ve come and how amazing it is that I can go out to a fancy dinner with my boyfriend and make it through without ordering an enormous goblet of wine, for example. The old me could never!

I recently returned from my annual trip across the pond to visit my family in Terra Germania (aka Germany). This was a particularly triggering visit, although I tried to remind myself of all the things that were different this time: my boyfriend was taking care of our cat, Basil, as well as our house; I am working from home once again (praise be!) for a much, much more relaxed and understanding boss; aside from putting in the requisite hours and logging my daily miles, I could just relax during the visit; and last but certainly not least, I was reunited with my sibling, Em, who is my world and whom I had not seen in almost a year. But I just could not relax – and I suffered greatly during the night, for the entirety of my visit, which was extremely triggering. Real talk: some nights, I considered going downstairs and taking a swig of gin out of one of the bottles on my family’s bar table. But then I would “play it forward” and think about what would come next – and that was enough to put me in my place. Cravings are temporary; it’s imperative that we, as recovering alcoholics, remind ourselves of this. “The only way out is through” was my mantra during my Big Move – and it applies to moments like these, as well.

Perhaps one of the most triggering aspects of the trip, besides the insomnia, was my continued inability to get along with my mother. We have been struggling to communicate and understand each other for years – and she was a huge trigger for me when I was still actively addicted. I can’t blame another person for the times that I’ve drank post-sobriety, however she continues to get under my skin in a way that I cannot possibly articulate. One of my old therapists, with whom I met when I was initially getting sober in late 2020, had suggested that I needed to mourn the loss of the mother I wish I had. I think this is true for many of us: we yearn for people to be a certain way, especially those that are closest to us. Perhaps you can relate to this and also have a similar complicated relationship with a family member, relative, close friend, or significant other. The amount of anxiety this creates for us, especially in recovery, feels insurmountable. When you add the lack of unconditional love to the equation, it’s even more impossible to think that you will ever move past this feeling. I struggle with the way forward or where we go from here, as it’s difficult to imagine that we will ever see eye-to-eye, or that she will be able to finally treat me like an adult. This is of course very much something I need to continue to work on in therapy, but I know I’m not the only person in recovery who struggles with contentious relationships and how much they affect our sobriety.

As I settle back into life in the new year and endeavor to get unpacked and decorate the house for Valentine’s Day (only one of my favorite pastimes ever!), I am making a concerted effort to congratulate myself for getting through my annual international trip without giving into any of my cravings or moments of extreme triggers. This is an enormous accomplishment and it should be celebrated: in my previous life, I would have drank copious amounts of whatever poison I could get my hands on, which would have made the situation(s) at hand far more untenable. To be able to make it through a 4-hour delay in Frankfurt or getting hassled in security for “explosive” materials in my makeup bag (ooookay) or any of the aforementioned contentious conversations with my mother WITHOUT turning to the bottle is incredible. I want nothing more than to be able to use this strength and progress to help other people – and that is part of this blog’s purpose. I hope that the words of this blog reach the right person or people – and may you know that you are not alone in your challenges, but that there is always hope for persevering through difficult times and triggers. As we all consider our goals for 2024, may you find the time to reflect on your own recovery, whether that be also from alcohol or perhaps a different substance of choice. And may you always believe in yourself, that change is possible; that you will find your purpose and calling in life; and that there is strength in the struggle.

A little over eight months ago, I packed up my life and my cat, and moved 132 miles to a state where I knew not a single person. This is is, to date, the craziest thing I’ve ever done – but I had to do it, in order to get the fresh start that I have wanted (and needed) for far too long. These past few months have spanned the whole gamut of emotions and lessons. I will start off by saying that I never considered the mental and emotional ramifications of moving; I was far too focused first, on finding a house, and then, on the logistics of packing up, medicating my anxious cat (it runs in the family…), and actually physically getting here, that I failed to think about what it would be like once I was living somewhere new, with zero support network, significant other, family, or friends. What follows are some of the impressions from the early daze and months in my new digs, as I navigated unfamiliar territory, tried to be brave, surprised myself, and effectively made it all up along the way.

1. *I* am definitely the problem

It didn’t take too long before I was fairly miserable in the new neighborhood. I wish more than anything that weren’t the case, but it’s true – and the whole point of this blog is to be brutally honest, not only for the sake of catharsis but also to hopefully be relatable to someone else who might be going through something similar. I can’t remember the exact moment I started (routinely and daily) having “What the f- was I thinking…?” pop into my head. Some of it has been more recent, such as when I started (another) new job and had to begin battling traffic to get out of the “f*ckerhood” in the mornings. But some of it was right away, e.g. the Noisy Neighbors and their inability to close cabinets correctly, or EVER be quiet and respectful of their duplex neighbor. It also doesn’t help that they have an extremely yappy dog – or an “overgrown rat”, as my dad calls them. Now, I’m getting off-topic per usual, but I quickly realized that *I* am the problem: I was miserable dealing with the noise pollution and assholes of Northern Virginia – and now I am dealing with a different type of misery, here in Pennsylvania. But this brings me to the second point…

2. Life is a series of trade-offs

You really only ever trade one problem for another. Sometimes you trade multiple problems at the same time; in other instances, it might be more gradual. But it’s always, always something. And it’s always going to be. Which now leads me to the next point…

3. Ice cream is the answer, no matter the question

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention ice cream towards the beginning of this list. And when I mention everyone’s favorite frozen treat, I don’t mean from the carton, although that works, too. No, I mean that Amish Country is chock-full of creameries: in fact, the state of Pennsylvania has around 5,000 dairy farms, which equates to a wealth of delicious creameries, ice cream shops, and old school custard stands. When I met my boyfriend and future husband (we’re getting to that soon!), we bonded over our mutual love of ice cream – and eating our way through the state has become one of the central parts of our relationship. Plus, it almost always cheers us up, when we need a little comforting. Kind of hard to stay glum when you’re eating a scoop (or several) of frozen cream, sugar, and vanilla with your better half!

4. Acceptance is a muscle

I don’t know if I spent much time thinking about this when I was still living in Virginia, but I really, really struggle with acceptance. I struggle to accept things like my mental health (or sometimes lack thereof); I struggle to accept that I’m not where I want to be in life (frankly, geographically or otherwise); I struggle with all of it. And this is very difficult, because I feel like I am constantly experiencing cognitive dissonance as a result. I WANT to be able to accept my reality and try to make the best of it, especially since I do know how richly blessed I am. But I feel as though I am constantly going over and over the same thought or topic in my brain, as I grapple with the reality of it and as I endeavor to try to accept it as fact and as reality. And so, it occurred to me that acceptance is a muscle of sorts: we have to train ourselves, like we do with our actual muscles, to embrace our situation in the hopes of full acceptance.

6. A fresh start does not indicate continued sobriety success

The events of “Augtember”, as I’ve dubbed it, deserve their own post – but I will say that, as with most things related to my fresh start, I thought new surroundings would automatically equate to continued success in sobriety. Unfortunately a slap in the face came in the form of a series of slips – but what I’ve realized is that I am the only one who can forgive myself; recovery is not linear – and don’t let anyone tell you differently; and it’s okay to fall down as long as you get up in a spectacular fashion. My sobriety doesn’t define me – and I think I’m still coming to terms with that.

7. It’s stupidly difficult to make friends in your early- to mid-30’s

I don’t think I need to elaborate too much on this one: it’s unreal how hard it is making friends as an adult! I’m incredibly grateful for technology, as it has allowed me to keep in touch with my best friends back in Virginia and elsewhere, but I am seriously in need of some estrogen in my life.

8. The obsession with grass is unfortunately NOT unique to Northern Virginia

This one makes me sad AND angry. I always tell people one of the reasons I left the DC suburbs was to escape the noise pollution. What I didn’t account for was the fact that I would be near enough to other suburbs in my new dwellings – and that even people with small yards are obsessed with running their noisy lawn equipment in all seasons, at all hours of the day. I’m working on going deaf via whichever set of AirPods or earbuds is fully charged – and I’m so thankful for ambient music like this one.

9. You’ll find love when you least expect it, but…

This story deserves its own post (which I will soon link here), but the single greatest thing to come from my Big Move was meeting my person – and fairly straight away, I should add. In fact, I sometimes beat myself up for not focusing more on the positives (of course, this is true in ALL areas of my life, not just related to the good fortune of meeting my boyfriend!) but just because you found love…

10. …doesn’t mean that suddenly everything is perfect!

In the early days of falling in love (or fighting the flu!) everything truly seemed perfect: we were both in this delightful little bubble of love and sheer bliss, reveling in the fact that we had finally met our person and now we would never let each other go. Meeting in the 3rd quarter, as we say, means that we can do things on our own timeline, like getting married on the anniversary of our first date. Yes, our love does make me delirious on a daily basis – and yes, I will do my best never to take him for granted or the fact that moving to Pennsylvania was written in the stars, since it meant I would meet him – but life still comes at you from all angles. I think the beauty of finding your person means that you no longer have to walk through life alone: you finally have someone there for you, no matter the day or the circumstances, and you’re there for them, too. This is everything I’ve ever wanted – and yes, it was worth every stressful moment of Moving Mania to find him!

In sum, am I glad I moved? ABSOLUTELY. Have I had a lot of harsh realities about being the problem and needing to learn how to cope? YES. Am I stronger because of what I’ve gone through and the times that I’ve had to put myself out there and be brave? Also yes. Am I looking forward to moving again? Yes – but I’ll probably still be unpacking and getting settled up until the movers come…

Have you had a similar moving experience or had to adjust to a new life outside of your comfort zone? Drop me a comment below!

Note: I first started this post in January and then got caught up in Moving Mania, so I am only now getting around to publishing it. Hopefully it will wake up the part of my brain that has been sleeping on so much content lately.

I haven’t blogged in far too long, mainly because I couldn’t find the words to properly describe the month of December, nor could I summon the strength or energy to write about the events that have transpired.

I tend to overuse the term “rollercoaster”, but it really was – and I suffered extreme whiplash as a result.

In an effort to maintain some level of privacy and not eat more crow than I already have, I will share the high-level overview, which is that I gained a lot and promptly lost it. It was one disappointment after another: finding out I need to be far, far more careful whom I trust; learning that there can be plenty of snags in the home-buying process; and being reminded for the 974793th time that just because you think you met someone lasting and special does not mean that they see you that way. If I had a dime for every instance in which I have been friend-zoned or dismissed for some completely asinine reason, I would probably be able to comfortably retire right now.

I made it through the holidaze (and my visit abroad) sober by some miracle, though there were plenty of stressful moments, due to aforementioned losses, unnecessary drama, and contentious conversations that definitely could have waited. I’m reminded all the time why I drank: because I have too many emotions and I never knew (and sometimes present tense) how to deal with them. And because life is hard; it doesn’t come with a manual and for those of us who are recovering addicts, we have to learn everything for the first time, it seems. But I try to dig deep into that marathon mentality and get through it as best I can. Because I know that I have everything to lose – and for as convoluted as my life feels at the moment, it would be exponentially more so were I to ever drink again.

Most recently, I lost three people who were very dear to me in the span of one week – and when I say “lost”, I don’t mean to death but to other unfortunate circumstances (starting to date someone new; a very silly fight; the friend-zoning nonsense of “I don’t see a future with you,” and so forth). I’m telling myself this is simply the season I’m going through. There were some high points previously, so the pendulum must swing in the other direction. And it will swing back again, eventually. I’ve certainly been in the desert plenty of times before and I always get through it. People (especially men) come and go; they are either in our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I will say there have been a wealth of seasonal folks lately, that’s for sure.

I watch other people in my life getting the things that they want and certainly have worked hard to gain – and while I am of course happy for them, I am also incredibly envious. Every time I’ve been truly happy and thought that everything was falling into place, there has been some catch. “But wait – there’s more!”, to quote that meme from 2020 I referenced in a previous post. That makes me laugh but it’s sadly so true. And of course I know I am probably being somewhat melodramatic, because I have all of the basics in life plus a family that loves me – and much more. Not being able to live up to my full potential and not feeling like I’m making any progress on my goals – not to mention being alone/single and having a corner on the market for the worst luck with men – is making me a little insane, though, and unbelievably depressed. When am I finally going to get it right? Maybe never. And that’s a sobering thought but it’s entirely possible. I have had an immense amount of anxiety about the impending move, thinking that perhaps the things I want in life – not to mention the person – won’t be there. They could be anywhere, I just don’t know WHERE – or if they exist at all.

I’m never quite sure what lessons life is trying to teach me, especially because I can’t seem to find a way to look at the past month or so without being angry. I’m watching myself become more and more jaded and cynical with each passing day. And if I’m already this hardened and filled with rage at age 33, what am I going to be like in 10 years? Or 15? Or more? Will the darkness of my soul eventually be my demise? Life is hard – and there are no guarantees. Nothing was promised to me; nothing that I thought I had gained was actually mine for the taking. So perhaps the first lesson in disappointment dealings is that you have to take the losses, chalk it up to experience, and keep moving. I’ve wasted too much of my precious time and (limited) sanity, not to mention expended far too much energy, on the most recent losses and changes in the status quo. The ability to let things roll off my back does not come easily to me. I think part of the problem is that it was a string of events, one right after another, and they came on the tail-end of 2022, which deserves a post of its own. Had they been spaced out more, perhaps that would have made it feel less personal, less like the odds are stacked against me specifically. The second lesson (and perhaps issue) is that I’m equating success with finding my person and settling down. It doesn’t make me any less successful because I’m single/unmarried. Northern Hellville and the greater D.C. area is not known for its dating successes; just take a moment to read through one of those “Overheard in DC” Instagram accounts and you’ll see what I mean. Or if you live here, you know what I’m talking about, probably only all too well. So I should not take it as a slight on me as a person that I have not been able to find Mr. Right, especially given where I’ve spent the majority of my adult life. Having a change of scenery will do me good, for a myriad of reasons, though I am in such a fragile state of mind that this is probably not the best time to give dating another shot.

Enough time has passed that I’m starting to be able to view these disappointment dealings and the month of December as reminders that there are no guarantees – and never to take anything for granted. Did those disappointments and losses make me stronger? Maybe. They definitely made me more cynical. But I think the greatest reminder from this series of setbacks is that I can get through anything – after all, I finally looked myself in the mirror and said “I can’t do this anymore”, and so I got sober. And if I can do that, all on my own, I can handle whatever life throws my way, however disappointing it might be.

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:

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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.
5. 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.
6. 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.