The Journey to Sobriety
- Feb 11
- 5 min read
How Quitting Drinking Changed My Life
I keep falling asleep feeling inspired - Black Bird Recovery - take your broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive. You were only waiting for this moment to be free. Black bird FLY!
And so I begin, slowly. Taking these sunken eyes and learning to see, to do things differently. New perspectives gleaned from this full moon, that this is the moment to shine. To take the darkness and bring it to the light. To see the beauty in the chaos, in the sweetness and smallest of things. Yes, all of it is a shift. To see the struggle as a blessing. This silent, solo morning as a gift to hear the yearning, the calling.
On my ride home from an inspired hike with Mowgli, this song sang to me:
“Don’t you wait to try it. Are you scared to find it? And do you wanna take my broken heart? Are you scared to start?” - Scared to Start by Michael Marcagi
I smiled and screamed, yes! I am scared to start! No, I won’t wait!
The messages have been so clear, for this is the time of new beginnings. Of sharing myself, my story, my path of recovery. Showing up for myself and committing to a practice of creative expression. Recovering parts that I have hidden. I’ve been scared and worried that this wouldn’t feel authentic, but it is, and it does, and I will, begin. Before I am ready.
Six years ago, I quit drinking for 28 days. It was the first time in 16 years that I consciously made a choice not to drink. It was awful. I was 33. There was no joy in my world without the dopamine fix of alcohol. I remember the agony of laying on the couch, feeling absolutely bored. I remember looking at my husband and saying, “Now what? What do we do with ourselves? How do we pass the time? How do we do anything without drinking?” It feels desperate, because it was. And what we did, the first Saturday of not drinking, is we went to the bar and we drank non-alcoholic beers that were not only disgusting, but ridiculously expensive. We spent $50 to sit inside on a beautiful day and feel like shit.
I still remember the day. The sun was shining. A rarity in Vermont in February. And yet, it was a moment of terror, of acknowledging that life as I knew it would never be the same. The days of passing time “joyously” in a bar, buzzed with friends, were over. Well, not entirely. I actually spent the next 90 days drinking heavily, but my perception of the scene had changed.
After my 28 days of penance (as it felt in that moment of life), I understood that I was choosing to waste my time, energy, and money in a way that used to feel like connection; to feel fun, but now was clearly a way to escape from my pain, my feelings, and my boredom.
My life force was muted, or more so drowning in ethanol. Life didn’t feel great - with or without alcohol.
Which meant the problem was me. I was miserable. Where was T. Swift’s Anti-Hero in 2017? I could have used a tea time intervention, but then I wouldn’t have learned all that I’ve been gifted on this beautiful path of recovery.
Those 90 days after the first break were not moderate, and very quickly the cycle of drinking infiltrated every crevice of my life, despite my best efforts. Every social outing, dinner party, celebration, and funeral. Every ski day, clothes swap, holiday, vacation, and weekend became a reason to drink. To escape. I remember vividly the sinking feeling of that February. I felt so empty and hopeless. I felt so sad and full of shame. Why can’t I control my drinking like everyone else?
I now know that’s a delusion we all feel - that everyone else is normal, but us. The in between from stupidly sloshy to strong and sober was so uncomfortable, and yet, the gray area of drinking was no longer an option for me. I either had to stay swimming in the velvet sea of delusion or sink to the bottom and create a new world of belonging. (The Phish references are purposeful as my path from wasted to sober is highly inspired by Trey and the incredible community of the Phellowship.)
I’m not sure if it was part of the awakening, or if it was one of the many major lessons of Lyme disease, but once I saw the addictive cycle clearly; once I tried to stop drinking and acknowledge how desperately lonely I was inside, I knew that alcohol was the glue of my misery; a socially constructed numbing agent that was literally killing me. It consumed all of me; determined where I went and how I showed up. It was my identity, shaping my life by creating scenarios and relationships focused on the consumption of alcohol. It was hard to unsee once it was felt so deeply.
This passive, expensive habit made me feel sick and inadequate. I was so disgusted by the trance I felt; the allure to stay drunk, until I couldn’t ignore the abdominal pain, the self loathing, and the blackouts that were occurring more often. I couldn’t escape the pain of disappointing myself; every morning promising that I wouldn’t drink. That I wouldn’t go to the bar and meet my friends for Happy Hour or have that glass of wine while enjoying the sunshine. And then I’d find myself there. Feeling the need to reward myself after a very long day of teaching children or finishing house projects or whatever the excuse became.
I had to revamp my whole life if I wanted to heal myself. I had to create a huge shift if I wanted to feel better and love life again. And I did.
We begin before we are ready. Even if we try and fail, we’ve begun. Even if we set the intention and break the promise, again and again, we have started to rewire our brains. We are in recovery when we say we are. When we make the decision to do something differently and love ourselves regardless of the outcome. Every moment an opportunity to shift into new ways of being. Slowly, gently, with confidence and courage. We begin because we believe we can. Before we know how to do it, or how to start, we begin.
Six years after failing to quit, after drudging miserably through 28 days, I see that failure as THE shift of awareness that allows me now to celebrate five years of alcohol free living. It was that failure that provided me with the truth that this was not going to be easy. That this path would change the core of my being; that it would change everything. And it did.
Life loves you. And you can choose to love life too.
Black bird fly, into the light of the dark black night.
In love and gratitude. Always.
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