Note: The following is about alcoholism so make sure you’re in a good space to read something about sobriety. As with all things I share, this is my experience. I am not shaming anyone who drinks, (nor do I care lol). Take what you will and leave the rest.
I never know exactly how to say it when I want a drink. Naming the desire is scary. It feels like the urge for a glass of whiskey is a distant ghost, and that by acknowledging that ghost, I make it more real, more present.
Lately, I have felt like drinking.
I’m not sure who this newsletter is for. Maybe it’s for someone who is also trying not to do something, even though the desire to do that thing is big and looms. Maybe it’s for someone who doesn’t really understand their friend who can’t stop doing the thing that hurts them and those around them. Maybe it’s for me.
I dunno.
The desire to drink is usually a low buzzing in the back of my brain, a small voice saying, “If it ever gets too bad, you could always go back, leave sobriety behind.” Who knows what makes the voice get so loud that it’s right inside my eardrum. For some reason, I feel the voice should only get loud if things are bad. Things aren’t bad, though. Emotionally, I feel like I’m in tiptop shape. Mentally, I’m…fine. Physically, I am present and grounded, which is better than usual. What I’m saying is life doesn’t feel bad enough to start drinking, but the urge is there and it’s huge.
A couple weeks ago, an alcoholic friend and I were talking in my kitchen about the dreams we’ll have where we start drinking midway through the dream. Usually, it’s a surprise. Like, look down and WHOOPSIE, there’s a drink in my hand, and it’s half gone. Often, the rest of the dream is spent in a panic, me running around, trying to figure out how I’ll explain my relapse to my friends, to my wife. But sometimes, I realize I’ve been drinking in my dream and think, “Oh, well. Sobriety is blown,” and I’ll proceed to get fall-down drunk, which does not feel good. I’m grateful for these dreams. They’re the closest I get to drinking and I hate them. It’s a good reminder.
Maybe I want to drink because I’ve been working a lot. Maybe too much, but I don’t really have a choice right now. There are books to finish, classes to set up, scripts to write, and stories to pitch. I like busy. Back when I drank, I used alcohol to mark time. I knew when my workday was over because I switched from coffee to booze. When I quit drinking, I tried to replace this ritual with something else, a tasty NA beverage, tea, a bowl of ice cream. None of it felt the same. (DUH.) Now, I play video games for an hour or so, letting my brain turn off writing and engage with a new puzzle. It’s helpful but not the same. I learned long ago I couldn’t seek things that made me feel like how drinking used to. If something makes me feel the way drinking had, it isn’t any good for me.
Sometimes, quitting drinking feels like the biggest gift I ever gave myself. Bigger than hormones. Bigger than publishing novels. I don’t know if all or any of these things would have been possible while I was drinking. I certainly didn’t accomplish them until I got sober. Alcohol was constrictive. It consumed my evenings. Hangovers swallowed my mornings. My spirit was cold, hidden deep in my body. Life takes more effort now, but that effort is worth it. I can feel my spirit, feel my body, feel my mind, all of it here, present.
I am trying to wrap up this newsletter and it feels impossible to find a good stopping point, which is a little like how it feels to be an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink, even though I wanted to, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. The yen is still there. Every day is just another moment of choosing something other than drinking. Maybe someday that will change and that will be okay, too. As always, I’m proud of myself.
I am here. It is now.
A Spell for Sobriety
How do we conjure the absence of something? I want you to know that you deserve love, easiness, peace, laughter, mornings without hangovers and evenings of clarity. You deserve to give yourself what you need to survive. You should not feel shame for all the times you’ve drank or used or smoked or whatever it is you want untangled from. You did what you had to do to stay here, but now, maybe, you want more. Start with a well of compassion. Imagine it in your home, near you. It should follow you around, an actual well. Stones. Rope and pulley. Water at the bottom of a black abyss. The whole bit. Imagine pulling up endless pails of love for yourself, of ease, of hope that the bad feelings will dissipate if you acknowledge them. Tell at least one person who cares about you that you’re trying to stop. Distract yourself from your desire. Go see a movie. Get dinner with a friend. Have a lover come over and fuck you quietly on your bed, then hold you for an hour afterward, whisper how much fun they had just now while you fall asleep. GO HAVE MORE FUN. Remind yourself you can be fun even when you’re sober. Learn how to be fun even when you’re sober. Just do a little bit each day. Be easy on yourself. Call me and tell me how excited you are to be two weeks sober. I’ll tell you congrats and ask how it feels. Tell me how it feels.
Me. I needed to hear this today. I have no idea how I’ve joined your Substack. I think I was recommended and I liked the name and then I keeled liking the content. But TODAY, was THE day a year ago I decided I needed a break from drinking. So I did sober October. I planned it. A month break would get me back on track. BUT that one month was many realizations that maybe drinking for me wasn’t smart. Wasn’t helping my anxiety. And I wasn’t very good at it. So here I am, one week shy of one year sober. And the urge to re-evaluate my path with drinking has been strong. But so have my why’s to why I stopped in the first place. I have been begging the universe for signs of what to do next when I hit one year. Do I try drinking again moderately? Or do I keep trying to just navigate an awkward sober bi girl life being my best self. Soooo... thank you. This may just reach me but it REACHED. ❤️❤️❤️