Then & Now: Lasting Sobriety

Make it last forever

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Holy Shit Y'all.

I woke up in the middle of Monday night and felt the mind race gearing up so I turned on the TV. I was looking for Law and Order (always on, puts me right to sleep) and the image on the screen froze. So I started flipping channels. They were all frozen. Then this appeared on the screen:

"After eighteen years of sobriety, Terry relapsed two years ago." 

Holy shit y'all.

EIGHTEEN YEARS. 

RELAPSED. 

6570 DAYS. 

Holy fucking SHIT y'all.

It turns out the show was "Intervention"- which for me is enthralling and totally depressing. I used to get secret satisfaction from watching people who were waaaayyyyyy more fucked up than me. Then I would rationalize: "I'm not chugging mouthwash in a locked bathroom. Phew. I'm just fine." I liked to see the people get better. That made me feel like if only someone would whisk me away to a fabulous rehab then I could be the sober one waiting for my family to get there. And that my hair would look better.  

And then sometimes the catch-up info at the end would say things about relapsing, and getting sober again. And I would think it wasn't possible. That everyone goes back. Why even try? 

I haven't watched "Intervention" since I quit drinking. I found out that watching people fucked up on booze and drugs is uncomfortable and depressing. And not (for me) a vehicle of deterrent. More like the bus over the high cliffs of hopeless. I read that sentence on the TV screen and wanted to shake Terry with all my might. I wished I could have been there to yell "DON'T DO IT!!!!" when he picked up that bottle and told himself after EIGHTEEN YEARS that it was OK. (Terry also went back to his crack habit, too. Thank you sweet baby Jesus I never had one of those.) At the intervention he said yes. Then he relapsed again. And then got sober again. And now? Well, who knows?

I have been almost rudely lucky since the stars aligned and I chose to get sober when I was exactly the readiest. I don't want to drink. Most of the time. Ninety percent of it. The I see some shit like that and I feel like I might need a suit of armor. A bodyguard. Or at least a guard dog. A mouth chastity belt? Now that would be cool. Right. Mouth locks are the new black. 

This looks comfy eh?

I don't want to be at my sons' wedding in eighteen years and blow it. "Why is mom doing keg stands at the family reunion?" Lord. 

I don't tell myself,  "I won't drink today, just for today. I can drink tomorrow if I want to." I tell myself,  "You can never ever drink again. It ruins you." Because then for me there is no decision to be made. It's kind of like asking if I'll push that old lady in front of the speeding train. It's the never asked question. There is no question. The answer is always "NO!!!". And you really don't have to ask. This doesn't work for everybody. The thought of never drinking again makes me feel relieved, not desperate. It could be all in the way you look at it. Or it could be just me. But it works for me. And hopefully it will for years. 

Sunday, January 28, 2024

It Will For Years

56 days. That’s how many days sober I was when I wrote that post.

When I write these posts my past self is here with me, eagerly looking over my shoulder to see what I’m going to say. I love her so much- this past me that had the guts to take on the challenge of a lifetime. What a human! She was, she is one of the very best parts of me.

After all, I am her- I am still her. Working my way through feeling depressed showed me how much I tenderly care for myself because I cared for myself. Drinking hand warming cups of tumeric chai tea with honey and cream. Making big pots of spicy like I like it red curry coconut soup with chunks of portobello mushrooms and lacinato kale so I had something good to eat all the time. Going to bed on time and not setting the early alarm. Not watching too much TV, getting some exercise and staying devoted to my writing practice. Reading. Saying “that’s enough” when I wanted to push myself. Letting myself off the hook over and over and over until I finally felt the fog lift, it took about 2 weeks.

I am now who I’ve always needed- a comforting hand and a gentle hug into more ease, into letting me be who I am and feel as I do in real time. I am able to see me as human and not be mad at myself about it. Deperately resisting letting myself feel low has been the way I dealt with my inner world. Being low is scary because I won’t be able to come out of it. Showing myself that I have the tools and more importantly the desire to care for myself is a surprise I wouldn’t have gotten if I hadn’t trusted myself enough to be acknowledge feeling depressed.

Is it the fear we instill in ourselves? Did I believe that if I got too low, felt too sad I would lose control? That I might drink at it? What is the make up of drinking again? A depression? A Tuesday?

I still feel a warm sense of relief when I remember that I never have to drink again. That I know what to do instead. My body relaxes, my mind slows down, there is no need to run because I am not afraid of myself anymore. God, I have waited my whole life to say those words.

I don’t need to be afraid of myself to stay sober. This is a biggest thing I know. I am not afraid of myself. I trust me, I don’t expect perfection, and I expect integrity. I have worked hard to know the differences- I did it today, and I will do it tomorrow. It is my own devotion. My committment.

Today I am 4069 days without drinking. I still hope for years. I don’t need my mouth to be locked up, I need to be able to handle my freedom. I don’t pretend to know the future, but I do think I can create it. Alongside that creation of hope is the mouth that opens up and says forever.

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash