Four years sober.
My soberversaries always make me reflect back on my sober journey. And this time around I can see that each previous year so far has had a distinct flavour. This makes me excited about the year to come, to find out what it will bring, what year 5 will taste like. Which is such a shift from drinking me, who was utterly terrified of the future. So terrified she clung to anything and anyone that felt safe and familiar, however much it stifled her potential or squashed her true nature.
So here is my retrospective on my journey so far – on how I made that shift from terrified to excited. I hope it helps you, wherever you are on your own path.
Year 1 – the year of WTAF?!?!
I missed drinking. I missed it like I’d lost a limb. I also didn’t miss drinking, like I don’t miss a nightmare when I wake up warm and safe in my bed. I didn’t know where I fitted any more. I marvelled at how bright the word was. I cried full body tears. I experienced moments of joy that felt transcendent. I screamed frustrations out alone in the car and pounded them out through my running feet. I felt love for my daughters like I’d never known before. I saw the cracks in my marriage and my heart broke. I danced all night at parties, high on sugar and the realisation that I was really doing this sober thing. I connected with people who saw me and understood me as well as anyone I’d ever known, and better than most. This started to heal cracks much deeper than my marriage, in my very soul. I was broken open but I could just about see how I could put myself back together, so much better than I was before.
I did not choose a word for this year but if I had it would probably have been ARRRGGGHHH. And also WOOOO HOOOO!!! Interchangeably, all year long.
Year 2 – the year of reckonings.
The cracks in my marriage widened to chasms, which all the couples therapy in the world could not bring crashing back together. Although we tried. We tried so hard it broke my heart all over again. For me, for him, for our daughters. For what could have been and for what would never be. But I also felt dreams burning inside me that I could no longer ignore – dreams that were just for me. To be a therapist, to be a writer. To put something out into the world that made a difference. I exhausted myself trying to work towards this new life while still leaving claw marks in my old one. I uncovered a demon from my past in my own therapy which demanded my attention, fighting its way out of the box I’d shut it up tight inside fifteen years ago. I started talking about my sobriety, my first public words being a Facebook post sent from a Northumberland sand dune in the pale dawn light, feeling so full to the brim with gratitude that I couldn’t keep it to myself a moment longer. I wrestled with my diet and body image all year long and ended the year as confused about that as I started. I didn’t miss drinking but I did miss having a fuck it button, an easy out. I could no longer lie to myself about anything. It was hard. It was also real and solid and right and good and so worth it.
I did not choose a word for this year, but if I had it would probably have been OH FUCK.
Year 3 – the year of changes.
This was the year my life exploded. In good ways and bad. I left my husband, I wrote and published my first book, I started my retraining as a counsellor. I was always working. I was so often exhausted and swallowed whole by mum guilt but also filled with fire and inspiration. I knew I had to keep going. I had grandiose ideas about changing the world and so many moments of utter imposter syndrome when I wanted to run away from all of it. I learned how to live my life as the only adult in my home for the first time ever. I got over my fear of spiders. I got two tattoos. I wondered if I was having a midlife crisis. I sang and ran and yoga’d for the joy they gave me. I found some peace with my diet and body image. I sat in a church in Edinburgh surrounded by so many of the wonderful souls sobriety has brought into my life, less than a month after my marriage break up, and let my dear friend’s heavenly singing voice bring much needed tears to my eyes. I rode my bike through the trees in Delamere forest feeling so free I could almost fly away. With a lot of excellent therapeutic support I faced that unboxed demon down and learned that there was a solid core within me it could never touch. I learned I was stronger than anything that could ever happen to me.
My word for this year was TRUST and I needed to. I’m glad I did, because it was worth it. Because I was being supported, throughout it all. And I came out the other side stronger and happier. And so much more me.
Year 4 – the year of healing.
This was the year when the Universe had other plans for us all. Even as late as my third soberversary, on 19 February 2020, I had no clue what the year ahead held. None of us did. If my old life blew up in year 3 then my whole world blew up in year 4 (along with everyone else’s). And I have been so privileged. I had the joy of the virus in November but my parents are safe and vaccinated, my income increased if anything (I think a lot of people had to face up to a problematic relationship with alcohol in 2020 if my book sales are anything to go by), my kids are young enough to not be hugely affected by having a lot of time out of school. In a lot of ways it has been like a year long yoga savasana, during which I could absorb all the benefits of the previous three years’ worth of growing and stretching. It was also really fucking hard. I have been simultaneously lonely and overwhelmed by lack of alone time. Bored and stretched to breaking point with stress. I had to double down on self care. I grimly ran and sang and yoga’d because I felt like shit if I didn’t. I started writing my second book. I reconnected with Soberistas. I joined Laura McKowen’s The Luckiest Club and started attending several online recovery meetings a week. I progressed my counselling training. I summoned all my courage and came out as bisexual on social media. I mourned the structures of my life, I missed the vital support of face to face human connection. I developed a love-hate relationship with Zoom. I cried a lot. I found a source of unshakeable balance and peace at the core of my being. I found joy in the tiniest things. I was reminded what really matters and I held on tight to it. This year has opened my heart, taught me to listen better and reminded me of the world shaking power of our stories. In the telling of them, in the listening to them.
My word for this year was ENOUGH and thankfully it was. My life was. I was.
Year 5 – my word for this coming year is NURTURE. I think, I hope, it will be a year of growth. Slow grow style, without drama. Real growth, right from my roots. Growth within me before growth without. I also hope, like we all do, that it will be a year of opening out to the world, of new places and experiences. Of feeling awe again. Of seeing people again. Of travel and connection. Of continuing this journey of opening my heart and discovering my purpose and joy, but out in the world instead of safe at home, filtering life through my laptop screen.
Brené Brown talks of living life with a strong back, soft front and wild heart. That’s where I feel like I am now. That’s what the last four years have given me. A strong back, forged in the fire of my early sobriety and fortified by all the experiences I’ve had and the wonderful people I’ve connected with along the way. A soft front, still squidgy and vulnerable, so recently released from the armoured shell it lived in for so long. Capable of great love, no longer living in abject fear. Hopeful that the world will be kinder to it than it is cruel. And a wild heart, curious and bold, trusting of its own longings and ready now for whatever the future brings. I know it will be terrible and I know it will be wonderful and I know it will be everything in between. I’m here for it all, thanks to my sobriety.
Wherever you are on your own path, I hope you can take this from my sober story so far if nothing else: keep going. It’s not all easy. It definitely won’t be painless. But it’s life changing, in the best way, and I for one can’t wait to see where the adventure takes me next.
