I don’t remember the last time I had a drink.
I’m guessing somewhere close to two years, but I really don’t know. In fact, my alcohol-free life is something I rarely talk about. Like most of us who struggle with addiction or alcohol abuse, it’s been a battle to let go. To let go of that old life and the reality I’d created for myself within that. Maybe I don’t talk about it because I don’t know how long it will last. Maybe because I have to keep some things to myself. Or maybe because I might steal a sip of a good red, if the moment presents itself. And I don’t know that I would feel bad about it. I tend to do things my way, despite fucking things up occasionally, but I didn’t have a drink yet today, so…
I used to have nightmares about drinking. About losing control. It was such a weight on me that it came up in my dream world. I would dream that I was driving drunk, deliriously weaving around a dark road and trying so hard not to crash. I felt utterly powerless. Sometimes I would crash.
I suppose I already did—eleven years ago when I got wasted and crashed my head into the bottom of Lake Superior. But ya know, amor fati…
Once I had stopped drinking, it was like a weight lifted off of me. The nightmares ceased. I was no longer obsessing anxiously about the next time I would drink, and what stupid shit I would inevitably do. If I didn’t drink, I didn’t have to worry about trying to have just one drink. And if by some miracle that did happen, I would still find myself wondering why I had the fucking drink in the first place because it never lived up to my expectations. I wasn’t going to feel like a cooler, funnier, braver, more exciting version of myself. In fact, I always felt worse.
Somewhere along my healing journey, alcohol didn’t make me feel the way I wanted it to anymore. I suppose it never did. But it sure seemed that way for a long time.
Part of the definition of the word sober is “being subdued in tone or color.” But there is nothing subdued or muted about my alcohol-free life. If anything, I feel more vibrant, more full of wonder than ever. Ironically, it’s drinking that makes me feel subdued—like a duller, dumber, disconnected version of myself.
My mom has been alcohol-free for over 30 years now, and when I think about the word sober and the depressing tone it carries, there is nothing sober about her. She is the most vibrant, lively, emotive person I know.
My birthday week was a bit precarious, and some things happened that brought about uncertainty, sprinkled with fear and doubt. But with all that came faith, sweet faith.
This year I was fortunate enough to spend my birthday under the Hawaiian sun. I swam with seals, ate poké nachos and chocolate cake, drank delicious mocktails, laughed, shook my head in disbelief at how crazy life is, adjusted my motherfuckin’ crown, and then watched the sunset over the Pacific. Alcohol free.
And that’s exactly what I feel. Free.
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