The Journey Begins…
I never thought I’d be writing about the absolute mental and emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on since I first became sober curious. There have been countless times throughout my adult life I’d conceded that perhaps I just shouldn’t be a drinker…only to continue my binge drinking on the next outing. I questioned whether I had a serious problem during the pandemic, but when the destructive behavior progressively worsened, I also started to feel like I was losing my mind. The shame, guilt and overwhelming anxiety I felt the morning after every single bender was too much to bear. Hurting friends I’d had for decades or getting politely asked to not come back to a local bar would definitely sting, but only for a minute, relatively speaking. Well-intended promises it would “never happen again” were questionable even on a surface level. Truth be told, I had no idea if or when it would happen again because I had no self-control. If I were to have been honest with them as well as with myself, I’d have just accepted the L. Deep down I just wanted to push everyone away, so I’d have no one left if I decided to finally follow through with unaliving myself.
I wrote a manifesto, for lack of a better name, about my history with alcohol and it was beyond jarring. Being honest about who you are (or at least, who you’ve been) is incredibly troubling, hurtful and just sad. It’s painful to write blips about different time periods and realize you’ve always been the common denominator. You’ve always had the biggest hand in your downfall. Not your childhood traumas, not the terrible things that happened to you, not the people you blamed along the way. Just you and you alone. Having been in and out of therapy since I was a child, I still have a lot of healing to do. Don’t get me wrong – working through your trauma is slow and painful and absolutely critical, but I’m only learning this now, at 41. Was I doing it wrong all this time? I may never know. What I do know is that drinking was always the easiest way to numb the pain of a dark and twisty past. All it’s really done is make everything darker and muddied the idea of what a “normal” amount of social drinking is. Society is so wrapped up in alcohol being a social lubricant that it’s pretty deeply engrained in almost every relationship I have ever had. It’s present in most situations and is sometimes even missed when it’s not. The truth is, I don’t know what life looks like without it. Sure, I’ve dabbled in 30-day stints like “dry January” and “sober October,” but it only made me want to count down until I was free to drink again.
Facing yourself is no easy feat. It’s ugly and depressing and incredibly lonely. However, even in the lonely, there’s a little bit of light. I’m holding onto a tiny shred of hope that I can actually do this. Become a non-drinker. An appellation I’d have never associated myself with even a year ago. As scared as I am that it will change some relationships, I know that I cannot continue down this path without completely destroying my entire life…and having to live to see the wreckage. I am acutely aware of how necessary this step is for me to be able to move forward and I can only hope that those that (by some miracle) still love me will support me through this, even if they don’t understand it.
Stay tuned, if you dare, as I wade through the weeds of my self-destruction to a lighter side of life.
