Four Years Sober Today

Here's what I know about life, love, and the endless longing.

It’s seven o’clock on Sunday evening and I just made myself the most exquisite egg sandwich I think I’ve ever eaten. I don’t take for granted that four years ago I wouldn’t have had the time or the patience or the general respect for myself to cook dinner. Most likely I wouldn’t even be home yet from a Sunday brunch-turned Sunday Funday-turned binge drinking slosh fest. I’d probably be on my third bar, sixth or seventh drink, fourth meal, and second hundred dollar tab. In a couple hours I’d find myself somehow back home, stumbling around the kitchen looking for the ibuprofen bottle. I’d strip down, forego the skincare routine, post or text something I’d regret the next day, and pass out with the TV on. Riveting.

Just typing that gives me a case of the heebie-jeebies. Those were dark times. Outwardly, it may have appeared to be normal twenty-something/thirty-something behavior but inside I was slowly slipping further into a state of complete apathy and disillusionment. The difference between me four years ago and me tonight as I write this letter to you, belly full from a homemade sammy and body sore from a steamy hot yoga class, is stark and indisputable. Now, I understand a bit more about love, what it is, what it is not, and where to find it.

Isn’t it all just pleading for love?

Yes. Let’s talk about love. First, we must establish what love is not. Love is not skating our responsibilities and drinking all day just because the sun is out. The sun is always out, sometimes it’s just cloudy. Love is not twisting and bending yourself into what you think he wants you to be based on his tattoos and style of clothes. If you get the feeling he is embarrassed by your outfit probably best not to let him take it off. Love is not letting the laundry pile up on the chair even though you know it gives you anxiety or buying new clothes because you feel shitty about yourself today. In my experience, the new clothes don’t change the reflection in the mirror. Love is not skipping meals so your tummy looks flatter in that dress or spending hundreds of dollars on makeup to hide your tired eyes. Your tummy is fine. Also, starving yourself only makes you look more tired. Love does not ask us to hide the awkward or nerdy parts of ourselves around certain crowds or speak less enthusiastically about certain subjects when we find ourselves in unenthusiastic rooms. Love would never lead us to betray our intuition in order to keep the peace or ignore red flags to secure a goodnight kiss. Love is not self-abandonment.

Ok. So what is love? Well, sometimes love is a hot cup of tea just before bed. It is also a day with my niece making poorly decorated cookies that taste like cardboard but make her squeal with delight. Love is a Sunday morning yoga class and afternoon nap. Love is checking something off of your to-do list and suddenly feeling the sun on your face. Love is when he asks you about your mom who died two years ago and doesn’t change the subject until you’re ready to. Love is accidentally holding hands and calling it a night before he gets a chance to kiss you. Love is sleeping with someone an hour after you meet them because you’re dead sober and both consenting adults. Love is doing the dishes after dinner instead of leaving them in the sink to glare up at you when you go to make your morning coffee. Love is saying no to that thing you don’t actually want to do and saying yes to that thing that scares you shitless. Love is a long, slow, solo drive with the windows down and Joni Mitchell on repeat. Love is a gut instinct and a prayer. Love is dancing in the kitchen and brushing my teeth before bed every night. Love is leaving the party early and repotting that plant that looks like it’ll be dead by next Tuesday. Love is self-embodiment.

Right. So where do we find it? Ah. The hard truth: it’s only ever here. Well, it only ever starts here I should say. Within me. Here, within me, is all the love that could ever be anywhere else. The other hard truth: we must all learn this for ourselves.

In four years of sobriety much has become clear. Not just about love, though that is the crux of the whole thing. Here’s another thing: our priorities determine the availability of our joy. If we are prioritizing external validation, whether from romantic partners, society, colleagues, etc-we have limited access to joy because we’ve placed it in the hands of unpredictability. Putting joy in places outside of our control is a great way to find disappointment. Prioritize yourself. Prioritize taking good care of yourself and tending to your mind and body before everything else. Place your joy in your own capable hands and be vigilant about protecting it from looters.

Here’s another thing: we will never change something we refuse to take responsibility for. Responsibility is power. Responsibility says, “If I created this mess then I must also have the ability to fix it.” Fixing my own messes was something I really didn’t want to do, but damn it feels really good. It’s kind of like realizing you had the magic wand this whole time. Taking responsibility doesn’t mean that people never fucked you over or broke their promises or hurt you deeply-it just means that they don’t get to keep doing it.

Last thing: every action, habit, word, and choice has its own energy and energy is real. Choose wisely. I aim for mostly good energy on any given day and that works out ok. Don’t expect your life to feel happy, light, and free when you ingest negativity all day long. Don’t be surprised as the doom and gloom start to lift when you make a better choice.

I wish I had more answers for you. The truth is that I’m still just en route. I don’t know everything and I like it that way. I do know that I’m finally on the right road now. After many wrong turns and roundabouts and dead end streets I’ve found a nice long highway where I’ve reached a comfortable cruising speed. I am not naive though. There will most likely be some necessary detours, pit stops, and unforeseen construction zones ahead. That’s ok. I’m built for it. I don’t know exactly where I’m headed-I may never arrive to the place I think I’m going, or I may arrive to a place I didn’t have on my map that was circled just for me nonetheless. Sobriety has ignited a thirst for journeying. What will I see? Who will I love? What will I create? I have no idea. Can you think of a greater adventure?

*Reminder: booking for Costa Rica this fall is still open-let’s adventure together. Email me if you have any questions.