Nov
18
I was talking to a friend, a woman who also has several years of sobriety from alcohol, about how I feel about drinking these days — how, even though it feels a little jinxy to say it out loud, I feel more resolve than ever. Even though I am living in precarious times, wading through a lot of murk with no one around to hide the booze breath from.
There’s this part in Anne Lammot’s Operating Instructions where she talks about imagining relapsing, going to the liquor store, but playing out the scene by putting her new baby boy on the counter where you pay, because that’s what it would take from her. I have thought about that so many times over the years and that’s exactly how it feels now, except it would be my life, my future, everything I might hope for in this new season. If I picked up one drink, it would all be taken from me.
But not immediately, and that’s the most chilling part. There’s a recovery saying about your addiction doing pushups in the parking lot, like it’s always just getting stronger regardless of what you’re doing to stay sober. I have never really identified with the higher power part of 12 step programs but I do know I am no match for drinking. I will never be stronger than that motherfucker in the sense of being able to control it, the only way to win is not to play.
If I had a drink now, it would bring on a world of shit that would ruin everything I care about before it brought me to some bitter end — death, jail, or institituion as they say. Now that I live alone? It would be so dark. It would be a ruinous path of terrible choices. It would turn me into someone else. It would drag my character into the dirt, it would destroy my relationships, it would scar my children, it would make me so sick and sad and trapped. I would not be able to take a single free breath, it would erode my soul.
And I imagine it would happen pretty fast but not fast enough. It would take me down hard, all those pushups, but not so quickly as to be merciful. I would undo everything I have worked on to feel okay and capable and hopeful with every swallow and the worst part is that I would probably think, at least for a while, that I was having a pretty good time.
I don’t count days but I have not had a drink since May of 2013. That’s long enough to feel some real separation from it, in a careful sort of way that does not live in cockiness. I’m never like, I BEAT YOU HAHA NEENER NEENER. I will never be anything other than grateful that I was able to put a stop to it and that the time keeps adding up.
My sobriety journey has been rocky as some of you know and these days I am not always what the 12 steppers would call living life on life’s terms. In full transparency THC is part of my life now, the expensive legal bougie-branded kind. I stick to edibles and it’s not an all day long thing, it’s not full sobriety but it is for me a very different beast than alcohol. I’ll probably never be completely zen about avoiding not-the-most-healthy escapism whether that’s a gummy or an entire pint of salted caramel core ice cream or doomscrolling or The Golden Bachelor.
But I don’t drink any more and that is something. That is a gift and I am so thankful for it. I am so thankful that I don’t have to be scared of myself right now. I am so thankful my kids don’t have to worry about me. I am so thankful for those 12 years and counting, for the fact that I get to really live in these new hard/beautiful days, for everything the future brings that I don’t have to hand over along with everything I love.
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