Reflections of Two Years Sober

The further I get from who I was, the more comfortable I am with who I’m becoming.

When I wrote about my first year of sobriety, I was honestly shocked I even made it that long. I’m no stranger to reminding everyone that no matter how much time you have, it’s not all pink clouds and rainbows. I was still struggling at 18 months, although the struggles become something a little different over time.

I find myself being less triggered by things in year #2. It takes more than a commercial or even a holiday for me to want to drink. (Weddings are another story though). I can be around people who are drinking without feeling like I need one to fit in and I find myself being a little more lighthearted about my own situation.

I was lucky enough to start dating a man who also doesn’t drink, so I constantly have a partner around who I never have to question whether he wishes we could go to the bar or have beers around the bonfire together. I often wondered how dating would work if I quit drinking and since I met him, it’s been the healthiest and easiest relationship I’ve ever had.

After the first year, I think the hardest part about sobriety is found in the little, mundane day-to-day things that add up in life. It’s not necessarily the big holidays that send you into panic mode anymore.

It’s a long week of work and wanting to unwind at the end of a tough day. It’s the grief you carry from the loss of a friend. It’s the song that reminds you of the time you last saw an ex. It’s the depression that you deal with every single day. It’s your family driving you bonkers. We all have our shit.

It’s a catch-22 in the sense that you want to be sober longer so it gets a little less hard, but the longer time goes on, the easier it is to forget just how awful your life was with alcohol in it. Thoughts start flooding your brain with,

“You’ve changed, you’re stronger now. You could probably just have a couple since you’ve been in therapy for so long. Certainly you’ve worked out your issues by now. You’re good, no one has to know about it. You’re older and wiser!”

It’s funny how our own brains can be our worst enemies.

I was recently very sick. I spent all of Christmas break in bed. Then, right after the new year, I turned around and got Covid and spent another 10 days in bed feeling like a hot steaming pile of dog poo. I can’t remember a time when I felt so shitty.

It got me thinking about the hangovers I used to get and how much of my life has been spent already sick.

Remember the preparation that used to go into every single occasion during your drinking days? Always having to figure out when you were going to drink, where you were going to pre-game, how you were going to sneak drinks inside or have enough money for booze all night, who was going to drive, where you were going to stay if you didn’t have a ride home.

Forget about any plans for the next day, you already knew you’d be in bed. You needed to be sure you had carbs, aspirin, and electrolytes on hand.

How exhausting.

I don’t think about any of that when I leave the house now. I make sure I have my camera gear charged up and a full tank of gas. That is it. And it is wonderful.

I was feeling so down about being sick for the past few weeks because I’m a ‘busy’ person. I like doing things, even when I’m home. I’m always trying a new hobby, writing, reading, painting, etc. So when I’m forced to stay in bed, I’m covered in overwhelming guilt that I am not being productive. I wouldn’t say this is exactly healthy either and rest is something that I remind myself that I deserve.

It makes me laugh to know that the first 10 days out of the year I was forced to do nothing, but if you think about it, how many days did I waste when I was drinking?

Let’s say I was hungover every single Sunday for a whole year (this is conservative — we all know when you drink as much as I did that I was hungover half the week). That is 52 days where I spent feeling like shit. That’s 52 days that I spent sleeping off the night before. This wasn’t resting. I wasn’t just relaxing because I deserved it, my body was recoiling from the toxins I poured into her the night before. I am so grateful that I’m not wasting 52 (plus) days a year anymore.

That is what year #2 of sobriety is for me. It’s being eternally grateful for the things I used to take for granted. My time. My energy. My life.

I have lots of hard days, but nothing can compare to the torture I used to inflict upon myself. So many days of the year just laying on the couch wondering if I was better off not existing.

That is no longer the case. The further I get from who I was, the more comfortable I am with who I’m becoming.

But on certain days, I think it’s important to look behind me for a second and admire how far I’ve come. The memories are more distant, but they’re still important to look at once in a while, as a reminder of how different my life could be if I didn’t make the changes I’ve made.

Who’dathunk… by not pouring toxins into your body, you can change your whole entire life.

I’m still amazed by this, even two years, 730+ days in.