Hi folks,
‘Dry January’ is happening now, of course. This month-long, self-inflicted abstinence from alcohol allows drinkers to kick the tires of sobriety in the new year, lose a few pounds, and reassure themselves that their drinking isn’t a real problem. I envy people with the superpower to turn their drinking on and off at will, and I wish that I was one of them.
Today is my 2064th day of sobriety. And while it may be reasonable to assume that abstaining from alcohol has gotten much easier for me over time, it would also be woefully incorrect. On the other end of 2024 holiday festivities, I find myself both proud of, and exhausted by, my dedication to staying sober. It was a real challenge these past couple months.
My sobriety, and the struggles therein, are topics that I have been neglecting in my writing. Honestly, I have been neglecting it, period. And when you neglect something, of course, it becomes faded and weak. Brittle. Fragile.
Sobriety - at least for me - is a needy bitch, still requiring my active thought and effort most days. Even now, as I manage to string together sober days like a garland of paper dolls, my sobriety is not on autopilot. It is my fault for white-knuckling sobriety; it simply does not get easier by ignoring it. I need to do the damn work.
In an effort to curb my alcohol cravings, I began taking Naltrexone - a medication for the treatment of alcohol use disorder. It works by binding to endorphin receptors and blocking the effects of alcohol. While Antabuse is an older medication that causes vomiting if alcohol is consumed, Naltrexone will not make me sick if I do drink alcohol. So, fingers crossed that it helps diminish these pesky cravings.
Speaking of cravings, one unfortunate part of being sober out in the world is being triggered. It happens to all of us social sober folk, often out of the blue, and with no malintent. I think of my triggers as mental constructs associating a desire to drink with a particular situation, sight, smell, sound, etc. Even after all the sober momentum that I have, I am still finding new triggers, while some old ones have faded away.
Most recently, I have noticed that my triggers romanticize drinking and drinking culture. For example:
An ice-cold martini glass with condensation slow dancing down its angular shape.
The sound of a cocktail shaker and ice cracking. Thrack Thrack Thrack.
The smell of champagne on a tipsy friend’s breath when they hug me goodbye after a fun evening.
Once triggered, my mind ruminates on drinking; it is then all I can think about while I am at the function. So much so that conversations become more difficult for me, and I lose focus. Plus, the cravings follow me after the party, sometimes lingering for days. Triggers are certainly inconvenient.
And triggers aside, it can just feel isolating to be the only one with a drinking problem at social functions. Sometimes sobriety feels more like a shackle than a healthy lifestyle choice, if I am honest. I wonder if I had it to do all over again, if I’d ever take that very first swallow of alcohol.
I have a vivid memory of the first drink I ever took. Turns out that many alcoholics do. Do you?
I remember what my friend’s kitchen looked like, and where I was sitting at the little dining table. I know which Bryan Adams cassette we were playing, and who was with me. And I can remember that very first sip to this day, more than three decades later. It was like alcohol flipped an internal switch that I never knew existed, quieting the chaos, and allowing me to relax; I loved alcohol from the very start.
Perhaps somewhat unbelievably, I remember that my first words after that sip were -
‘Well, that’s going to be a problem.’
My friends and I laughed it off at the time. But of course, drinking did turn into a problem for me, just as it had for generations before me. And I suppose that is enough of a reason for me to keep riding the sober train for now. Choo-choo!
Thank you for reading!
xo,
Rhonda