Three Decades and Counting: A Life Transformed by Sobriety
37 years of growth, gratitude, and community
I did not mean to get sober. However, over a couple of years, several friends strongly suggested to me that my drinking behavior was not normal, and they were concerned for me. I was not appreciative in the least of their concerns and thought their comments about my behavior were harsh and intrusive.
Okay, yes, I had blackouts for hours at a time and never knew if they would happen after two drinks or six. Yes, I embarrassed myself by getting drunk during a work meeting.
But me, have a problem with alcohol? Certainly not.
Except, secretly, I wondered if my friends were right. I did not tell anyone how afraid I was of myself—that I wanted to drink and was afraid of what might happen when I did. Would I remember the people I was with during the blackout and the conversations that occurred? Would I drive drunk in a blackout?
I did not drink when pregnant or when I was nursing. Why, I wondered, couldn’t I just stop drinking alcohol on a permanent basis? Why, when I had not had a drink in months, did I suddenly want to drink a lot and often?
To “prove” that drinking alcohol was not a problem for me, I decided not to drink for a month. I let my concerned friends know about “the experiment.” I also told them that when I completed a sober month, I planned to celebrate by getting drunk. (Note: Not have one drink. Get drunk.) That was my best thinking when I was 33 years old and defending my twenty years of drinking.
When I partied in high school, it never occurred to me that my drinking behavior was unusual; my friends drank, and many used drugs as well. Blackouts occurred from the beginning, but I didn’t know what blackouts were, so I assumed that everyone had them. I never asked anyone if they could not remember the night before.
Besides, my grades were good, I was an athlete, and I took part in extracurricular activities like school plays and clubs.
Did I know about alcoholism? No. Did alcohol cause me problems? Yes. For example, I learned quickly that girlfriends needed to stick together when we drank, to protect ourselves against guys who looked for—hunted—vulnerable girls to harass sexually. I also learned that God would not make the room stop spinning even when I promised to be a nun if I could just not feel nauseous.
Fast forward through college and jobs. On the one hand, I was drinking on weekends and never knew when I would black out. I often woke up in the middle of the night with free-floating anxiety and felt lonely even when with friends. I was the person at the table who ordered two “doubles” at dinner when everyone else ordered one drink.
On the other hand, I received exceptional reports on my work, got married, and started a counseling practice. Because of my practice, I began learning about alcoholism and was able to quickly name how the information applied to other people.
Change was gradual. Gaining information about alcoholism and talking with friends in recovery created chinks in the armor of denial I did not know I was wearing. Every time someone shared honestly about their negative experiences with alcohol, another hole blew through my protective covering.
Examples: hiding how much they were drinking (coffee cups hold a lot more than coffee); noticing personality changes when they drank (one friend used to drink and dial in the middle of the night, and another became harsher to anyone around her as the night wore on); seeing impacts on their children (a six-year-old could not wake up his mom who had passed out and tearfully called 911 because he thought she was dead). I remember saying, “I haven’t been hospitalized or gone to prison.” The response I received was, “Not yet.”
In my month of “proving” I had no problem with alcohol use, I agreed to attend five 12-step AA meetings. I went to one meeting a week and discovered that someone told parts of my story at every meeting I attended.
By the end of the month, I felt connected to several people in meetings, and I asked a woman to work with me. I upped my meetings to 3-4 per week, continued to stay sober, and became amazed that life was interesting, entertaining, difficult, and wonderful without alcohol.
My sobriety date is December 9, 1987. Thirty-seven years later, I continue to take part in 2-3 meetings per week.
I still work with a sponsor, and I work with others who want to get sober or stay sober. I no longer wake in the middle of the night with anxiety. Meditation and laughter are antidotes for most of what ails me.
Today, I am part of a community of sober people. I have had the privilege of celebrating sobriety across the United States, as well as in such locales as Prague, the capital city of the Czech Republic; Mulegé in Baja; Vancouver, B.C., Canada; and Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland.
My sober women’s book club has met monthly in person and online for 16 years. My world is larger than I imagined it could be. I hope to meet many of you as we walk this road!
I leave you with wise words from three of my teachers:
“This lifetime is but a few moments in your soul’s journey.” —Swami Brahmdev
“Sometimes life gets ‘lifey.’ Reach out.” —My sponsor, Val M.
“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.” —Pema Chödrön
Your turn.
We’d love for you to share in the comments:
What finally made you face the truth about your relationship with alcohol?
What role has connection with others played in your journey to sobriety?
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Such a beautiful, deeply inspiring share, Shana. Thank you!
Lovely Shana!