5 Lessons from 100 Days
5 things I've learned from 100 days of sobriety!
I never wanna be drunk again.
I used to think I loved being drunk. I loved the joy and gratitude for everyone in my life alcohol gave me. I loved how social and confident I became when I drank.
For a while, the low felt well worth the high. But, the more regularly I drank, the lower the low became and the less valuable the high became. The weight of the handful of regretful decisions I made each weekend got heavier and heavier. I would sleep with people who I would never sleep with if I was sober. I would miss people I would never miss when I was sober. I was drawn to saying things I didn’t mean in conversations with people I didn’t like. I would go to sleep as whatever room I ended up in spun and then wake up the next morning knowing that I knew better when I wasn’t drinking. Which was what led me to stop drinking for one month. I was curious if sobriety was the way things could be better.
During that month, I realized I didn’t need alcohol to feel joy and gratitude or to have a night where I felt amazing about myself. Turns out, I naturally lean towards gratitude and joy. And, if I wanted to have a night where I felt amazing about myself, I could just blow out my hair and put on a miniskirt and heeled boots. I stopped putting myself in situations where I was bound to feel the shame of being inauthentic to myself. And when I stopped drinking, I was finally able to see how I shared my joy, gratitude, and confidence with others. It was like when I put glasses on for the first time and found out we’re all supposed to be able to see the individual leaves on trees. I never want to be blind to myself ever again.
Trying to be “cool” is at the cost of yourself
You don’t earn a gold medal for being “down for anything”.
Sobriety has taken away my ability to hold my tongue for the sake of another person. But, I have earned my own trust by no longer pretending to be comfortable when I’m uncomfortable for the convenience of others. My sobriety lets me discern what I think I want because it’ll rock the boat the least from what I truly desire from deep within my soul.
When I drank, I would lose sight of what mattered to me like my goals and the determination I have to achieve them. It was also easier to convince myself that I was “too much” for people. That I should “tone it down”. If someone didn’t like me, my instinct was to try to understand why and fix whatever trait of mine that they perceived as a flaw rather than just simply moving on. I would have rather connected with a total stranger than become a better friend to myself.
But now, every day I wake up cozily in the bed I’ve made for myself with the tenacity to take full responsibility for my life and the respect and love I have for myself for having that strength to do so.
My sobriety does not depend on being around sober friends.
Before I began my recovery, I assumed that sobriety was an isolating experience. I had bought the generalization that if you’re sober, you can’t be around alcohol or anyone who drinks alcohol. That may be true for some people. However, that has not been my experience. Most of my friends drink, but my sobriety has brought me closer to them because I’ve shown up as the most real version of myself, the one who’s decided she loves herself more than the mercurial rush she gets from tequila.
And even though I am now different, I feel more loved and celebrated, and supported than ever before.
Transforming is a trust fall. I feel lucky to have been caught by so many.
It’s enough to be where your two feet are
Since getting sober, I have had more instances of what my friends and I fondly refer to as “feeling creepy” because “dissociating” sounds too clinical for anything my mind is capable of doing. I’ll be somewhere physically but feel mentally and emotionally detached from my body as I attempt to decode a social interaction I had, figure out what I’m gonna do once I graduate, dread an event on my Google calendar, or decide where I want to spend the holidays all at once.
At the beginning of the semester, I always had this unsettled feeling in my body like I left my house without turning off my oven or unplugging my flat iron. But, I knew I didn’t because I’ve never used my house’s oven and I don’t own a flat iron. However, that knowledge didn’t rid me of the feeling.
When I told my friend Maddie (who actually largely inspired my sobriety) about this feeling, she told me “Focus on where your two feet are.” And, I admit, that sounds like the kind of advice I would usually say “No shit, Sherlock,” to. But, it’s actually really good advice. Like, really good advice.
There is always a fantastic future creeping near in which anything could happen, but it’s enough to focus on what’s right in front of you this second. There will be problems you will not be able to solve in one go. There will also be things beyond your control. It is not a failure to let yourself be released from the anxiety caused by a problem before it is solved for good. It’s actually a virtue.
Pay the Toll
For the longest time, I didn’t know I needed to be sober. Twenty-one isn’t the age most people decide to kick their drinking habits. And although it wasn’t an effortless decision, it’s been the best one. But, it didn’t make my problems disappear.
Once you stop drinking, you don’t immediately change, but you see who you are as clear as day and it becomes clear that the challenges you’ve faced in your lifetime are not coincidental. There are patterns and you realize that you have the capacity to stop them from repeating, if you can pay some tolls.
You must learn that it is better to be uncomfortable and grow than to be comfortably stifled. You have to do things scared. You gotta speak up even if it’s with shaking hands. Learn to let yourself stand out and be different. Make the hard choice. You owe it to yourself to assume that every hard decision you come to will lead you to something better.