6 years
Yesterday marked 6 years since I woke up on the morning of another New Year's Day, at the ripe age of 19, and decided to get sober.
No, it wasn't for a resolution as much as it was a last-stretch effort at making sure the night before never happened again.
I had gotten drunk and started yet another screaming match with my boyfriend about texts I had found on his phone, that led to him throwing me across the room onto the ground, me grabbing his keys and making a run for it, him trying to rip them out of my hand, slicing my palm open, and me punching him in the face.
At the time, this was a typical Friday night for us.
Neither one of us had the tools, resources, or skillset to be able to embark on the emotional repair that this relationship, or specific situation, needed.
We had no idea how to return to connection, trust, and intimacy, after something so traumatizing and fundamentally disconnecting had taken place, so, we often grasped at the only resource we had to ignite our feelings of love and the delicious merging entanglement between us once again, sex.
After the crazy hot, toxic, make-up sex, peace was restored in the kingdom once again.
For typically about 2-3 days.
This was the cycle.
I had hit men before, but never someone I was in love with.
It was only ever when I was drunk, which made it easier to “forget” and dismiss.
Up until this boyfriend, it had often only been strangers, a douchey high school jock, or a friend’s boyfriend, that I got to take my hatred of men out on.
Over time, the mutual physical and psychological abuse between this boyfriend and me made my explosive rage blackouts easier and easier to justify.
He called it my temper, I called it love.
It wasn't until I asked him to get sober from his excessive marijuana use, and offered to support him by getting sober with him, that I realized I couldn't, and was able to acknowledge (to myself) that maybe, just maybe, I had a bit of a problem.
Ironically I was working in a residential rehab at the time running group therapy groups on AA/NA, mindfulness, meditation, and other holistic & alternative therapies.
I did an excellent job of saving face and keeping my work, school, and personal life entirely separate. Because of this, I didn't want any of my clients to know that I didn't ACTUALLY have it as together as it appeared, so I decided to get sober in secret in a private addiction group therapy group, ensuring I would steer clear of any potential awkward client-facilitator run-ins at any of the local AA/NA meetings.
I remember feeling so much shame at the idea of one of my clients finding out that they had more recovery time than me.
I remember hiding where I was going every Tuesday night and pretending to have more recovery time than I did at work.
I remember the loneliness of staying in while friends went out to bars, pretending to be too hungover to go out.
I remember convincing myself of story after story of why I couldn’t tell anyone, how they would judge me, or that they would make fun of me for not drinking. My social life and identity had been so wrapped up in the culture of alcohol and the “coolness” of partying, that I had no idea how to disentangle myself other than to hide and lie.
It took me two years of being in recovery before I was even able to tell my mom that I had decided to get sober from alcohol and prescription opiates.
A story for another time, but that addiction group, that was more focused on understanding addiction than it was on staying sober, completely saved my life. It was there that I was first exposed to group process, the power of a group field, and the profound healing that can take place in a container-based upon active listening and moving from a place of curiosity.
On that day, 6 years ago, I would have never been able to conceptualize the life I have now. The level of access I have to feeling, emotional expression, and above all, choice, is something I would have never been able to grasp or imagine.
I no longer have an identity around being “sober” per se, but I still choose to not drink alcohol or use prescription opiates.
I feel beyond grateful that not drinking now feels like a conscious choice versus something I “have” to do.
I no longer relate to these substances as having power over me, though I did for quite some time. Although it was incredibly disempowering and one of the deepest drivers that kept me in the shame cycle that so frequently breeds addiction, it’s where I needed to start my journey to get me here.
When I first got sober I would have never imagined that a day could pass where I didn’t spend most of it considering drinking and have to resist the urge or tie myself in the basement to keep from using.
Now, neither one of these things occupy any of my time, thought-space, or physical reality, and I never even knew that was a possibility to long for.
Special thanks to Kambo, Plant Medicine, Psychedelics, Circling, & Meditation, for gifting me the remembrance of my own freedom, choice, sovereignty, and the complete removal of my entanglement with the dance of addiction.
One dance step at a time my friends. Xx
