Unmasked

Two years without a drink feels like an unmasking. Nothing to hide behind or from. Just raw and vulnerable. Feeling the feels. Unpacking the shame. Learning who the hell I am without alcohol.

I have all the stories, the ones that would make you say, "Oh, wow, she really did drink too much." The stories that will allow yourself to feel better that you don't drink too much because you don't drink like I did. Or maybe you do. I have the stories and someday maybe I'll even write them. Maybe.

But the thing is, when someone stops drinking it doesn't matter what their stories are. It doesn't matter how much shame is hiding behind the mask of the drink. It doesn't matter why they stopped. It doesn't matter if they stopped for a year or a month. It doesn't matter how many black out nights they encountered or words they said that they wish they could take back.

What matters is that space is held for their decision and it is never questioned whether they were a 'problem' drinker or not. Those metrics are simply for the people still drinking to justify their own decisions. If someone stops drinking, love them and support them in it. Don't ignore it, address it.

Ask them if it is OK to drink around them. Ask them if you can support them. Plan events and outings that don't involve alcohol. The last thing they need to think about is alcohol.

I have mostly removed myself from social situations these last two years. Everyone takes their own time in the process. I didn't want to be around alcohol. I don't.

I never saw the mask when I was drinking. Now when I see someone drink I notice the voice change, the glossy eyes, the way their personality shifts a tiny bit after just one drink and then a lot. I'm unmasked now and I don't judge anyone for drinking (remember I LOVE drinking). I just don't want to be around the masks. It feels uncomfortable.

My partner Dave is over 400 days without a drink. He says he has no desire to drink. I do. All the time. I imagine if I went on Zoloft I could take the edge off. For now, I'm choosing to try this with huge amounts of CBD oil and meditation. We'll see. 

My way through from the beginning has been to promise myself I can drink tomorrow. Then tomorrow becomes today and for two years I've made the continuing promise to myself.

I know I am not writing this letter to a bunch of sober people following me because I am sober. I know I am writing this to people who drink.

If any defensiveness comes up for you, I ask that you remember, I'm sharing my experience, my needs, my choices and they are NOT a reflection of you. You do you. I'm getting really good at doing me.

Sobriety is not a one size fits all. 

After I stopped alcohol I had to face love addiction. 
My finances. 
My body. 
My relationship with food. 

I am not sure anyone can just pick one thing. Dave eats an incredible amount of sugar now that he doesn't drink. Many people find they do the same. I preferred salty things and am dealing with high blood pressure now as a result. I've gained weight because I actually eat now and I'm no longer afraid of living in a body that is bigger than what I decided it should be.

For some of us, motivation is lost in sobriety. Alcohol was this buoy of go go go. Keep going. You are tired, drink. You are stuck, drink. You have to get up early, drink. You have a deadline, drink.

It took two years for my kids to stop referencing wine or vodka or tequila. It was such a part of their world because it was all around them all the time. How many times did I say to a kid, "I just need to get a glass of wine first." How many times did a kid suggest I just go get a glass of wine.

I miss the warmth of that first sip of alcohol, the one that tingles as it touches your tongue and then fills your belly. I loved that feeling. I loved feeling my voice change, my eyes get glossy and becoming whoever I became when the alcohol would create my mask. I was fun. Until I wasn't. I was brave. Until I made bad decisions. I was alive. Until I was sick.

I lost the ability to navigate life sober because the time between hangovers and the next drink start to become less and less. I'm still learning how to navigate it.

And. I hold a huge amount of love and forgiveness for she who was, but I don't want to be her anymore. I can't be her anymore. Not if I'm to live this beautiful life. If Dave was still drinking I don't know if our relationship would have made it. 

When I stopped drinking I declared to myself that I wouldn't talk about it to anyone, certainly not publicly. Not because of shame, because I didn't want anyone else to feel bad.

It may be part of my accountability, it may be that I can't leave this part out of my story, it may be that connecting with other sober people is everything.

Whatever the reason, I sit here sipping my decaf coffee writing these words (a little bit sick to my stomach talking about it still). But I'm not throwing up from having drank too much. And I'm not hungover. And I'm not hiding behind an invisible mask. 

I am however, wearing a mask whenever I go out in public (but that is whole other letter)!

Sending love, H