Celebrating One Year Sober

I never thought I would live drug and alcohol-free…

When I talk about my choice to be sober, people usually ignore me or just nod their heads.

Some will even try to diminish my efforts at sobriety because I was never technically an addict.

As the months go on, it seems to get harder instead of easier. It is not an easy path that I walk…addict or not: I’m human and am now facing feelings and parts of myself I’ve never been able to face or feel before.

The last 12 months is the longest period of time I’ve ever been constantly sober, with no drugs and no alcohol since I was 13 years old.

To people who don’t know me well, I may seem like I have it all together. Maybe to some, I seem socially awkward, or even offensive. I’ve heard all of the above. But few of these people really ask how I got to where I am in my life.

Somehow I never really felt like I “fit in” in society. I was a psychic and a healer at a very early age because the people around me needed me to be that. My role was chosen for me.

I never really became good at being social, because I didn’t feel whole. I was never comfortable in my own skin. I grew up in an addicted household, with plenty of dysfunction to go around.

By the time I was 13, I was heavily leaning on alcohol, drugs, and behaviors in order to cope with my reality at home. Ironically, being in an alternative reality helped me cope with my “real” reality. Even though the alcohol abuse in my home was causing me a lot of pain, it was one of the only tools I knew how to use, to escape the misery I felt.

From that year forward, I spent 33 years leaning on substances and behaviors while trying to mend my mind and heart.

Over the decades, I’ve come back to life layer by layer, inch by inch. I’m still working on it and have a long way to go.

Today I realized that, since I hit puberty, I haven’t been sober this long.

No one in my life seems to see the significance of this choice. No one really seems to understand it.

For me, it’s the life I always wished I could have chosen as a kid. Being sober is a luxury I could never afford, before. I literally could not cope with life sober, until now. That doesn’t mean it’s easy, but at least now I can function without alcohol or drugs.

What does this have to do with me, professionally?

I believe the power of someone in the healing/ helping professions is equal to the depth that they have suffered and recovered.

I see you. I get it. And I’m happy to be here with you while you improve your health and life.

We all suffer in different ways and for different reasons. But it’s important to remember that many of us understand what darkness feels like. We understand the feeling of desperation, deep loneliness, and confusion.

It can feel so difficult to make steps toward our healing and recovery. Often, the steps that have the most transformative power are the hardest. Leaving behind our old ways can feel like a new phase of abandonment. If we’re not who we used to be, who are we?

How can we be ourselves if we are not who we have always been?

For those of us who have not previously found a way to be happy, we need to find a new way of being, if we’re ever to feel true, sustainable joy. When we create our new selves, we are simply choosing a part of us that has not previously been at the forefront. We’re choosing a part of ourselves that was dormant or pushed down. But it’s still “us”.

It only feels strange to become this new person and live this new and healthier way of life, because we’re not acquainted with these other parts of ourselves.

Becoming sober was one of the best decisions I ever made. Not exactly because sobriety is the best thing ever. But because it was a conscious act of bravery on my part. I left behind a way of life that everyone in my family taught me was normal, because that’s how they lived, and still live. It’s the way they stayed comfortable in their own suffering, It’s the way they limited their own joy and success.

For me, becoming sober means I’m saying no to a way of life that caused my loved ones so much suffering. I’m saying “I deserve better.” I’m showing myself that I believe in who I can become, above and beyond what my family members were able to become. I’m forging a path that goes beyond any of the previous generations in my family. I’m voting for the real me, the me that was battered by alcohol abuse as a kid.

I’m standing up for the lost kid I once was. The kid who was alone and had no one to save her.

I‘m becoming my own hero.

And that, my friend, is everything.