Milestones, meltdowns and much more – a year off alcohol

When I first sat down to write this, I had so many ideas. So many ideas in fact, that I sat for quite a while staring at a blank screen completely clueless on how to start and getting more nervous by the minute. 

And then I put my big-girl pants on, took a breath, and the obvious place to start became, well, obvious … I needed to start at the beginning.

I spent a long time thinking about sobriety before it became my reality. I would secretly read blogs, books, posts, everything and anything I could about other people’s stories. (I did this secretly, because I was too ashamed to admit I had a problem). I was amazed by their strength and in awe of the courage they had. I so admired the guts it took to be open, honest and RAW, saying ‘Hey, this is me, this is where I’m at, yeah, I got some issues but THIS  is what I’m doing about it.’ And I so wanted to be like them. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be brave and I wanted to have the courage to open up and share my story.

And the whisper in my heart became louder … and it said, ‘You can do this too’.

I don’t quite know when my drinking escalated from nothing to ‘something’. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to trace it back, but there was no clear indication I could see, nothing I could look at and go ‘There! That’s where it started to be a problem!!’ 

I knew it was possible for me to continue drinking, and just keep going through the motions. I knew I could keep going like that, and that could be my life. But I knew I wasn’t in control anymore.  I would swear to myself in the morning (feeling terrible from the night before, as usual) that I wouldn’t drink that night, and by evening, there I was, carrying a bottle of wine home from the shop. I never really said I wasn’t drinking, out loud anyway, so there was no one to be accountable to except myself. My friends drank too, so my drinking was never too big a problem for them. Okay, well … perhaps aside from the times I got a little too drunk and became over emotional, crying over something. Or saying something quite rude or arrogant in the special way only the drunk can.

I was f**king terrified, and please excuse the profanity, but it’s the only way I can adequately express how I felt … F-ing Terrified. Terrified of change and terrified to remain the same.

In my first sobriety attempt,  I set myself a 100-day challenge. I’d done a month alcohol free before, so 100 days was long enough for me to feel like I would experience some of the true benefits of sobriety, yet short enough that I could see an end date and feel that I might actually be capable of achieving it. Deep down I knew that I needed longer than 100 days, that the life I really wanted was well past the 100-day mark, but there was no way in hell I could even consider that. Not yet.

 My first sober journey lasted seven months and was going pretty well, until I decided I could try to moderate, again. I’ll be honest, I had missed my life with alcohol, well what I actually missed was the rosy memory. I don’t think it will come as a surprise that moderation was NOT a successful venture. It followed the same line as many other stories I have read. Slowly my drinking crept back to where it had been before, and I knew deep in my heart if I didn’t stop, I would lose everything that I loved dearly, and worst of all I would lose myself.

So, seven months later, I was ready to start a sober journey again. Let me make this very clear. Relapse, a slip, whatever you want to call it, is not a failure. For many people, including me, it is all part of the journey. I learnt a hell of a lot through that experience.  Most importantly I learnt that I wanted to be sober, and I wanted it much, much more than I wanted to drink. This time, I had a better idea of what was ahead, and what I needed to do.  Once I’d had a taste of that sober life, the beauty of it never left me, and so I did everything I could to get it back.

On the note of struggle, let me let you in on a little secret – no matter what you hear and see, a lot of people aren’t doing it easy. They might choose not to share the hard bits, or the ugly bits – and perhaps they do find it easy. And that is perfectly okay too. Because here’s the beautiful thing about sobriety. It’s YOUR thing. Your creation. And whatever it is that works for you is right, there is no wrong way, if it works. Sobriety has uncovered a side of me that had been hidden for so long. And let me tell you, I had NO idea just how strong my desire to change really was. Once I set down this path, I found strength and courage I didn’t know I had, and it helped me to move through the shit days. I found compassion for myself that I had long ago cast aside, and I found love, for myself, from myself. And the days kept passing.