5 Things I Learned When I Got Sober
When I tell people that I’ve been sober now for 5 years, I get asked a lot to explain how I did it. Many people tell me they’re impressed, often in the same breath as saying they could never have that kind of self-discipline. And honestly, I get it. I didn’t think I could do it myself, and I had a few attempts before one stuck! I remember feeling lost, scared, guilty, and angry at myself, particularly as my tendency to overindulge was not a constant thing, but a feast-and-famine type of dynamic. If I didn’t “have” to do it every day, was I even really addicted? And if I wasn’t addicted, why couldn’t I stop?
I wish I had seen more examples of people like me when I was initially struggling with sobriety, people who didn’t fall into the expected stereotype of what an “addict” acts like. While people told me addiction didn’t HAVE to look a particular way, I often found myself wondering if I was making a fuss and didn’t have an issue after all. I hadn’t lost a job or a lover, I was comfortably housed and ate regularly. I just wasn’t happy anymore.
Frankly, that is enough of a reason! And, turns out addicts look and act like a huge range of things. If you don’t like the relationship you have with something, whether it’s cocaine or sugar, whether it’s alcohol or relationships, whether it’s spending money or disordered eating — you deserve a recovery journey that meets you where you’re at.
I wanted to post this before New Year’s Eve because I wanted to offer a hand out and say, look, addiction is not an easy thing to figure out. It can feel isolating and confusing. It can take a few tries before it sticks. And not everyone’s “best practices” will be best for you. These are some lessons I learned along the way, and I hope they help you too.
You Don’t Have To Hit Rock Bottom
One of the things I encountered early in my sobriety journey was a sort of imposter syndrome about whether or not I even belonged there. People would share their stories (sometimes with seeming relish) of the pits of despair they fell into before they gave up their substance of choice. I was proud of them for turning things around, but also a little confused — I hadn’t hit a “rock bottom”, so did my sobriety mean anything? Did it count? Should I even be in these recovery groups?
I decided to quit cocaine for good and thus started my path to recovery because I woke up at 4 am at a friend’s house smelling of wet dogs. This friend didn’t have a dog, but their couch (where I was sleeping off the high) absolutely reeked, bless them. I smelled that first, then I felt an ache in my lower back, and I said to myself, “I’m just too old for this”. And that was it for me. No dramatic situation, no major destructive episode, just a realization that I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I even put that as my reason in my sobriety app — “I’m just too old for this”. It would remind me of all the unpleasant bits of cocaine, from the gut health problems to the withdrawal to the decisions I would make in the pursuit of more coke that just… didn’t make me feel great.
I think that worked well for me, rather than scolding myself from some kind of moral perspective, because it didn’t matter how I felt about coke, alcohol, or cigarettes — they didn’t care. My body would feel worse after doing them once the fun parts wore off, and it just didn’t feel worth it anymore. It might not be the most intense story at the meetings, but it’s just as valid!
Sometimes, Your Higher Power is Satan
I tried a few different support groups before I found the one that was right for me. I tried Alcoholics Anonymous, and found it to be a lot more Christian than they claimed — I imagine it’s not as noticeable if you were raised Christian yourself, but as someone who was raised Pagan, it turned me off. It was also frustrating to try to raise that issue with people only to have it dismissed out of hand, which made me feel wary of the group as a whole.
It wasn’t just the talking about “God” and “prayer”, which some meetings downplayed. I understood that your “higher power” could be something else like mutual aid or whatever. It was an undercurrent in the teachings, which focused a lot on rehashing what you felt guilty or ashamed about as part of the process and seemed pretty anti-sex. There was an expectation of “surrendering to a higher power” and this hammering in of the idea that once you were an addict you were always an addict… something which sounded very Evangelical and “original sin” like. Saying things like “it works if you work it,” felt to me like it puts all the onus on the shoulders of the person in recovery. There was no room, seemingly, for a critique of the system itself, and I found myself frustrated when I just didn’t resonate with the program. Was I just doing it wrong?
Such phrases like “it works if you work it” really tasted bitter in my mouth after a dear friend of mine, someone who swore by the Anonymous framework, died of an overdose after hiding that they had secretly returned to using. After all the work I had done on consent and ownership, I just wondered… maybe it’s not JUST the responsibility of the person who didn’t “work it”, but also that this program just didn’t work for everyone.
I ended up joining a Satanic recovery group instead. Instead of focusing on surrendering to something greater than ourselves, acknowledging that we had lost control of our life, the Satanist response asked us to claim our power, to take that control back. There was no hierarchy of power of sponsor and sponsee — everyone was both teacher and student, and we used the term “allies”. I loved the focus on recognizing that we can only control ourselves, but that controlling ourselves was something we should strive to do. Where the AA approach made me feel weak and small, the Satanic approach made me feel empowered. Am I a Satanist? Nah, but the framework was more in line with my own anarchist tendencies, which is probably why it was the framework that stuck.
Some people find the AA program works well for them, and that’s great! There are also loads of AA meetings with different styles — for women, for queer people, for BIPOC folks, for sex workers. Others connect more with Satanic recovery like A.R.C.H., or science-focused approaches like SMART Recovery. It’s ok for one not to vibe with you, and trying to force yourself to make a program work that feels alienating will not help!
Abstinence-Only Isn’t The One True Way
Another point along that line. Not everyone finds their way to sobriety via total abstinence! Many people quit one substance at a time, for example. Personally, I decided that I wanted to quit snorting cocaine before I decided to quit drinking, and I decided to quit drinking before I decided to quit smoking. I still take hallucinogens on occasion and I use CBD for pain, and for me personally, I don’t consider that a violation of my sobriety. I didn’t have a relationship with those substances where I used them for escapism and avoidance, and while I keep a wary eye on my use, it hasn’t caused me any concern yet.
Some sober people will tell you that if you’re “California sober” (sober from everything but weed and, in some cases, psychedelics) you aren’t really sober. Some AA meetings will only let you talk about quitting alcohol, which sometimes leads to people being there who don’t drink but still do party drugs, and they identify as sober in that context. Others will scowl at you for drinking non-alcoholic beer, kombucha, or eating bananas. I’ve met people for whom sobriety meant no painkillers of any kind, not even an aspirin. I am a full believer that everyone should pursue recovery in a way that works for them, but that our recovery journeys are individual.
For me, taking mushrooms twice a year as a way to reset my psyche and see if there’s anything I’ve been avoiding has been a helpful form of emotional self-care. My relationship with them rotates around therapy, diving further in rather than running away. That works well for me! On the other hand, my experiences of ketamine and that disassociation feel like it taps into my avoidance in a way that leads me to avoid it — I don’t have an addiction to it, but I can see how one might form.
Abstinence-only is one way to be sober, and is helpful when getting your legs under you in the beginning (I found that making deals with myself to only drink one beer or only on weekends did not help my tendencies). It’s not the only way, and even if you do start there, you may not need to do that forever. Some people never find themselves able to do these substances in moderation (I can’t do cocaine in moderation, so I don’t touch it), and others find that an extended break and therapy can give them the tools to have a healthier relationship with the substance or behavior. Having people around you, people you can be fully honest with about your relationship to your recovery, is key for accountability.
Sobriety Can Be Like Riding A Bike
I see recovery from addiction less like a wagon you can fall off of, where there’s a clear “success” and “fail”, and more like a bike you’re learning to ride. You’re going to fall off. That doesn’t mean you’ve “failed”. You’re doing something new and building a skill. No one should expect you to get it perfect your first time on a bike. You have to learn balance, you have to build up your strength and resilience. You’ll fall, and you’ll get back on and try again. And each time, hopefully, it’ll be a little easier. That’s not to say you won’t ever fall again. Shit happens! But you’ll have more experience falling, and be better able to minimize the damage. You’ll get back on your bike, and keep pedaling — no shame required.
Like riding a bike, at first sobriety was SO HARD. I could barely stay balanced, I was scared, and when I fell I fell hard. I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to ride a bike successfully! But I kept at it, and one day, it had been months since I fell. If I did “fall off my bike”, I didn’t shame myself for fucking up. I could recognize that I was going to make mistakes — sometimes I could predict it, sometimes I couldn’t. But I knew how to fall a lot better, and it was a lot easier to get back on — falling didn’t make me scared of my bike.
I still have a ways to go in my “bike riding”! It’s still hard, and I still need to work at it — it’s not effortless! But it’s still valuable and good for me. And I’m gonna keep doing it, with it getting a little easier each time.
If You’re Not Having Fun, You Can Leave
I needed a long time sober to get to the root of why I used coke or drank to excess in the first place. I had my mental health pretty much in hand, my life was relatively stable (if exhausting), and I felt less like I “had” to drink and more like I wanted to as a treat. Because I didn’t feel like I had a physiological draw to it, I couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to stop.
It took a pandemic for me to quit for good, and it was shocking how much easier it was during a time that should have been stressful, depressing, and anxiety-provoking. As soon as bars were closed, my desire to drink or use cocaine was almost entirely gone. What little was left was easily distracted into other things like going for walks or the care and feeding of a sourdough starter (like everyone else, right? Mine is still here, his name is Leisure Suit Larry).
Turns out the thing that kept me going back for another drink was INTROVERSION. I was trying to force myself to socialize with people when I felt uncomfortable, trying to make myself “fun” and “bubbly”. I was afraid that people wouldn’t like me when I was sober. Even more, I was worried I wouldn’t like me when I was sober.
But after the first year of sobriety, I found myself way more relaxed and happy. Turns out I liked myself a lot, especially when I was sleeping well! I had more energy to socialize with people, but I also had better boundaries about what my social life was going to look like. I told my friends that I might have to disappear from their gatherings if I felt overwhelmed, and they were absolutely fine with that! Some friends even made sure to have a quiet space at their parties where I could retreat if I didn’t feel ready to leave but also needed a break. I stopped going to events that made me feel anxious and stressed out (big parties, dance clubs) and instead invested my time into book clubs and board games. It seems like such an obvious thing to say that if you’re not having fun at a social event, it’s ok to leave, but I needed to hear it and I wanted to say it in case someone else was struggling with that too.
I hope these tips are useful for folks. I know that now that I’ve gone past my 5 years, I don’t even remember why I felt so drawn to my addictions in the first place. Building a life I didn’t want to run away from and really embracing the control over my life that I had while accepting that I didn’t control everything and that was ok… those two things allowed my recovery to bloom in ways I never would have anticipated when I was still in the binge and guilt phase. I’ve written three books since becoming sober, and they keep getting better. I have more fulfilling friendships. I enjoy my hobbies again. Life is good, and this life can be yours, too, if and when it sounds good to you. ❤
