Thoughts about sobriety - from the last 15 years
EDIT: meant to be scheduled for the 28th April, but posted early in error!
A section in my memoir starts:
“The day I got sober, 28th April 2009, a Tuesday, was sunny. I remember because I spent an hour staring out of a window while the people around me, strangers, talked about God.”
That was fifteen years ago today1. I can’t believe it’s been that long since I first sat in a grey, plastic chair, starting to move towards an acceptance of who I was: an alcoholic. It’s been over fifteen years since I last had a drink. This still astounds me to this day, because fifteen years ago, I couldn’t go a day without one. Every day, I drank. Not just a small glass of wine with dinner, drank til I was good and hammered. Drank til I passed out, waking the next morning on the sofa in my clothes.
I didn’t so much drink to forget my worries, I drank to obliterate them. Well, try to. I had found the elusive (for some) Fuck-It Button™️ and beat the shit out of it every time I felt discomfort, unease, anxiety, depression, loneliness, sadness, grief, stress, anger, unfairness, anger, stress, fear, anger. My Fuck-It Button™️ was primarily alcohol. It has been other things, but back then, alcohol was the answer to that beckoning button’s peal.
But I did it, I got sober, and I stayed sober. It wasn’t easy, I’ve had some close calls with considering picking up, I’ve transferred the Fuck-It Button™️ to other ‘fixes’, but I stayed the course with this sobriety shit. Which, for me, the poster girl for starting stuff and quitting almost as quickly, is probably more incredible than anything.
One thing us sober folk bang on about is how amazing our lives are after putting down the bottle, and they are, trust me, that isn’t bullshit, but what we often don’t admit is how drinking used to be fun, it used to ‘work’ for us. I think we often don’t like to think of those old days as glamorous, lest we fall prey to temptation, lured by the siren song of nights out with the girls, drinking espresso martinis. That was never how I drank, but I have imagination enough to see me there.
For me, drinking was a lot of fun. Not the act of imbibing alcohol itself, but the theatre surrounding it - the night out, the getting dressed up, the pre-drinks, the anticipation of a “good night”, the promise of fun. Memories made while drunk are like those frat girl photo walls: snapshots of people you don’t recognise, some familiar faces, a flash of you in profile as you laugh, some of it blurred, out of focus, some in close detail, but just an overall ‘vibe’. When I drank like this, it was fun. I got home safe. I remembered the jokes, who I’d snogged behind the DJ booth, when I stopped drinking.
My later drinking was very, very different. For a start, I had no company. No-one to laugh with, no-one to do make-up with, no-one to admire my outfit, no-one to get me a taxi. I drank alone, at home. Because, I no longer drank for fun. Now, it was a full-time job. Except I was the one paying.
In my experience, from hearing from thousands of fellow alkies, we don’t drink like ‘normal’ people, never have, that was all an illusion. We’ll be the first to finish our drink and start demanding the next round, we’ll order two drinks for their one, we’ll have prepped on the pre-drinks. We never drank because we loved the taste of a Chardonnay. We drank for how that made us feel. And with addicts, if something makes us feel good, we want more. And more.
Alcoholism, for me, is borne out of a lack. A feeling of emptiness, a dearth of coping skills, a need to fill the hole. Or at least, patch it, like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke/dike. Except, that small boy ended up enlisting the help of others, whereas we usually fuck our own shit up so much there’s nobody left to help.
But, at first, until it didn’t, it worked. I often think of those times, but I no longer miss the alcohol itself, or even the warm buzz it affords, but rather the company, the places, the experiences.
In the last fifteen years, I have grown older, no wiser, fatter, no taller (I have been known to claim that I am not overweight, I am simply underheight), but I have grown. Unlike a lot of other alcoholics and addicts, their lives cut short by the very God at whose altar they worshipped.
I drank alone at the end, but I got sober with people, and that was crucial. I needed other alcoholics to help me see this for what it was, and to offer me the wisdom of their experiences. I joined AA. Well, you don’t actually ‘join’, there’s no induction, forms to fill out, multiple choice to see if you qualify, you just go. And listen. And speak. And rinse and repeat.
We are never ‘recovered’ alcoholics or addicts, because this recovery thing never ends. It might end tomorrow, if I pick up ‘that first drink’ (a phrase you hear so often in the rooms).
Alcoholics and addicts are a really interesting bunch - for so many people from a myriad of disparate lives, we have this stuff in common, and it brings a closeness, a camaraderie, a ‘fellowship’, and that is the main thing I pin these last fifteen years on. Over this time, I have heard the most heartbreaking, heartwarming, enlightening, brave stories from these wonderful people, many of whom I hang out with outside of the church basements and community centres where we meet.
If you have read previous posts of mine, you will know something of my disastrous relationships, and I am quick to point out that I have never dated anyone I met in recovery. I steer clear of other addicts, no matter how far down this road they’ve travelled, because, to my mind, any relationship can surely only withstand one fuck-up, and that’s my role right there.
I wanted to share something about sobriety that isn’t all 12 Steps and God, because, that’s not my recovery (I know… heresy!!), but it has been part of it, not all of it. I’m never going to be the spokesperson for sobriety, I wouldn’t advise anyone to do it my way, I would always urge them to speak to someone more responsible, like finding the older adult in the room. I’m an adult, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel ‘adulty’ enough. Do as I say… well, as the other grown ups I shove you towards say.
If you are wondering if your drinking is problematic, if it’s “costing you more than money”, feel free to message me. I do not have all the answers, I barely have any, but I can tell you what worked for me.
If that’s not you, drink safely, responsibly, never when you drive, and raise a glass to those who won’t lift one today.
We recover together. One day at a time.
the 28th April 2024… apologies, I posted instead of scheduling!!
Congratulations on your sobriety, I just love your writing and honesty. Hx
Kay. This is beautiful.