Sober sober

i finally decided to get sober, like Sober sober, on april 25th, 2021. at 11:13 pm, i made a very poorly shot video of me pouring out half a crowler of beer from my go-to local brewery and sent it to L, who had talked me through my shitty day and checked up on me while i made my rounds to my various drinking spots. that was it. something felt different than all the other times before and i knew that was the moment. the moment where alcohol and i breakup for good. it has been 67 days, save for one hiccup. that hiccup, those 4 hours, those 5 beers, did not negate the 1,600 other hours that i have spent not drinking, or the approximately 260 beers i have not had. that friday night gave me the opportunity to wake up on saturday and remember why i’m doing this (hangovers are even worse when you haven’t had one in two months). it illuminated new triggers and uncovered the profound discomfort i feel when i have to face hard feelings.

i somehow found the courage and at least a few words to talk about it in one of my saturday meetings. and then again on sunday. all of the nervousness i felt about outing myself to other sober people, and the feelings of failure that i put on myself were met with

love, support, resounding sentiments of being in my same position. i must’ve been given ten phone numbers between those two meetings. numbers from people who i had never talked to before. people who, to those outside the recovery community, might seem like they’re complete strangers. but they are so far from that.

every time i hear someone share i feel like i know them. the first time i thought about possibly hanging out with some of the folks from my (completely virtual) group, i was very surprisingly not overcome with the normal feelings of dread and anxiety about having to meet someone new. my brain wasn’t screaming at me about how we’re probably not going to have anything to talk about and how it’s going to be awkward and they probably won’t like me anyway so i shouldn’t even bother. i don’t think i’ve ever in my adult life felt like i could connect with cis, straight folks, at least not without a drink in my hand, but now here i am, impatiently awaiting the moment one of us finally does the damn thing and makes a plan to hangout.

i’m sure this is going to sound cliché as fuck, but the last two months have given me an amount of clarity i didn’t know was possible. i’ve started exploring myself in ways i never have before, i finally started being more open in therapy, and i’m doing things i’ve never done before. hell, i almost never read anything outside of what’s required for school (and even that is questionable at times) and the last time i wrote consistently was back in my early livejournal days, but here i am, having just started reading my fourth book in two months, writing this thing that i’m eventually going to post on the internet for other people to read, and feeling this unfamiliar sense of excitement about the written word.

the day after i poured that last crowler down the drain my friend sent me an instagram post from costar astrology that read:

let your void breathe.

the full moon is a time for culminations. feelings overflow their dams, secrets become too big to suppress. betrayal gapes like an open wound.

i know, i know, so dramatic (blame the full moon in scorpio), but damn did i feel it. my feelings had overflowed the dam i built inside. the secrets i keep from myself were trying to claw their way out. my life as a non-sober person had hit its peak, and it was time to come down and start down the path towards a new life. a sober life. so here i am, figuring it out as i go along. this is going to be quite the adventure and i’m so here for it.