Finding Connection in Sobriety

From loneliness to friendship

“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.” —Carl Jung

Picture this: a hot summer day at a country club pool. Kids spring off the diving board and splash each other. Parents are strewn about the pool deck and some in the pool. Everyone seems to have a cup or glass in hand, and most of those are filled with alcohol. I sit on my pool deck, looking out at other people talking freely. The whole time wishing I could be invited into one of those conversations, but also feeling completely on the outside of those connections. Like the bubble boy, except there’s no physical bubble, just an interpersonal one.

On some occasions, I would grab a drink and venture in to talk with some of the other guys. Even in these conversations I felt like an outsider. I’d go round for round with drinks, hoping the next double might give a little bit more ease to my jangled insides. And it worked, to some extent. But every time I went to the pool, I’d feel this inner tension of wanting to be included, and yet feeling on the outside.

That whole season is a stark contrast from this summer. I still go to the same pool, but now I’m almost four years sober. This is the third summer I’ve shown up with no liquid courage, only a soda water and my inner connection. And in the beginning, it kind of sucked, I won’t lie. It can be hard to show up in a new way in spaces where you used to show up in a very different way—in this case, sober instead of drunk, or at least tipsy.

But something is shifting this summer. A couple weeks ago, I took our daughters to the pool. Once sunscreen was applied, they were off with their friends having a great time. I sat reading and noticed a guy I know from seeing him around the gym and pool sitting by himself. And as much of a shock as it came to myself, I decided to walk over, pull up a chair, and talk to him. And we had a nice chat, nothing earth-shattering, but a bit of connection, and another guy even came up and joined us a few minutes in. I can’t tell you how differently that day would have gone four years ago. I would have sat drinking my ranch water, silently wondering why I was sitting there alone.

And I get you read that and think, “that’s ridiculous, you couldn’t go talk to someone without a drink or drinking?” And I don’t disagree now, but that thirty-six-year-old version of me had a pretty tough time with that. He was so concerned with being liked, with not offending people, with hiding the parts of himself he thought other people couldn’t, or wouldn’t, handle.

The best part of this point in sobriety is that courage doesn’t just extend to acquaintances at a pool; it has invited deep friendships into my life. I’m a part of The Luckiest Club, an online sobriety support community, and last fall I went on a men’s camping retreat with other guys from the community. I was excited because I had seen and heard most of these guys on our weekly men’s sobriety call, but I was also terrified because what if they didn’t like me? What if it was awkward? Was I crazy to commit to this trip?

You could have guessed this, but the trip went so much better than expected. Each guy had a chance to share his drinking and sobriety story if he wanted, and it was such a gift to get to hear these men be so vulnerable with each other. All our stories were different, but there were connecting points in each of them. I got to experience firsthand that sometimes the things we want to hide the most from other people end up being a lifeboat others can climb into and connect.

After that retreat, a smaller group of guys started a Marco Polo video chat and have kept it going since. Most of us share most days, and some days we hit the heavier material like struggles in our marriage or what does it mean to be a man. And other days we end up discussing dachshund races (yeah, you read that right) and whatever other ridiculous things we’re experiencing in that season. And the best part of those relationships? The absence of shame. It’s the first time in life I’ve felt a group of friends where I really felt like there was nothing to hide because nothing is off limits. And if that sounds intimidating to you, I get it. Vulnerability can be fear-inducing, and yet it has been the vehicle to so much depth of connection within myself and with these guys.

But it’s also the complete inverse of the Carl Jung quote on loneliness. In this group, there is no loneliness, and if I do feel loneliness in the group, I can name it and bring it up, which takes away some of its power. And this is such a gift to have a community of people who are willing to have real conversations, who are willing to sit with their own stuff and yours, without solving or fixing, just witnessing and offering their loving, compassionate presence. I think this is one of the most beautiful aspects of recovery communities, whatever their flavor: people who know how to be with you, without trying to step in and fix you. They let you find your way, and they’ll offer their advice if asked, but for the most part they just listen and it is an absolute gift.

I probably won’t find that depth of connection at the pool this summer, but I will find connection there. But that’s only because I’ve started telling myself a different story. I’m not the lonely outsider anymore. I introduce myself first and say hello first. Two actions that sound small but make the world feel like a much friendlier and more engaging place. And this range of connections wouldn’t be possible without my sobriety. And if it doesn’t seem possible for you right now, just give it time. Don’t try to rush out and “fix” everything right away. Just know, some other folks around you might be feeling a similar loneliness and your willingness to reach out and initiate might be the biggest gift to them (and you) that they didn’t know they (or you) needed.

How has sobriety changed the way you connect with others? We’d love to hear in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap the heart? It helps more people find this work and supports our sober community.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

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After choosing to stop drinking alcohol, Josh Luton became interested in emotional sobriety and self-trust. After years in a traditional business environment, he looked around and wondered if there was more. That question eventually led him into his current chapter, where he coaches folks navigating shifts in work, relationships, or their sense of self. Josh is a husband and father of two, learning to live these questions in the middle of real life. You can find his website here and read his writing on his newsletter, Gone Dry.

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