One Year Sober

August 31, 2020. Today I am one year sober/alcohol free. I’ve known this day was coming and I’ve felt uneasy about it. Mainly because I feel like this isn’t a milestone I am worthy of celebrating. Not because I haven’t actually been sober for a full year today. I have. But because I don’t feel like my voice belongs in the sober community. Because I wasn’t the poster of someone hitting rock bottom and a raging alcoholic. I feel like my voice isn’t powerful.

So, I hesitated writing this, or most anything about my decision to stop drinking alcohol. I also think there’s a part of me that knows this will be judged. That there will be assumptions made. Or that I’ll somehow offend someone by the words I’m about to share. But I read this quote today and knew that I had to write this out: “Being transparent and sharing your story can save someone else.”

So here’s my story. Or part of it.

My decision to stop drinking alcohol was years in the making. Yesterday I was searching my emails for a blog post I’d previously written and stumbled upon an email to my best friend in 2015: “No panic attacks here since I've stopped drinking.  I sadly think there's a correlation!” I started drinking again sometime soon after that email. I don’t remember why. But for a long time, in the back of my head, I knew there was a chance my panic attacks wouldn’t stop unless I cut out alcohol for good. Every single time an attack would hit, I would tell my husband I just needed to stop drinking. I never would. Or would until the next social gathering. Or mom’s night out. Or Tuesday night. Or work event.

The truth was that the thought of being a non-drinker horrified me. I didn’t want to be that girl. I didn’t want to be different. I liked red wine. I loved tequila. And I didn’t see myself as having any sort of negative relationship with alcohol. Sure, there are holes in my memories from the many nights of blacking out – mainly in college and law school – but that’s like anyone that age, right? Playdates with mimosas were a regular occurrence. My son’s first birthday party had a football tailgate theme with a full bar. The fridge was always stocked. But it was a legal indulgence that everyone I knew participated in. I had no problem continuing with my drinking. I’d still be doing it but for the panic attacks.

What finally happened? What made me stop? One year ago tonight, I had one of my worst panic attacks ever sitting on the couch with my husband after our anniversary dinner. I had had 3 drinks that night. I was finally done. I sat there on that couch and told him, this is it. I’m not drinking anymore. 366 days later and I have kept my word.

Have I had a panic attack in that time? No. Even with the global pandemic and scary fucking world we are living in, I have not had one full blown panic attack. (I have had anxiety but I’d like to meet one person who hasn’t had any anxiety since March…). This can’t be a coincidence. There’s without a doubt a connection. Whether my panic attacks were caused by the alcohol itself, or I had created such a mental connection between the two, I may never know. But a connection it is.

So where does that leave me? My goal, that I never shared with anyone, was to make it a year and see what happened. So here I am. Should I celebrate with champagne and see what happens? No. Although a part of me wants to.

A part of me hates being the one who doesn’t drink. A part of me is mad at myself for not being able to just be “normal” like everyone else. A part of me thinks maybe the panic attacks weren’t that bad (news flash: they 100% were). A part of me wants to test the waters again. This is all the part of me that cares too much what other people think. The part that wants to simply blend in. The part that wants life to be easy.

The bigger part of me suspects I should never touch alcohol again. At least not anytime soon. Because if I am honest with myself, there’s not one damn thing I missed from not drinking for a year. Literally zero negative effects from being sober. Instead there is so much that I gained.

I learned that it’s not alcohol that makes an event or evening enjoyable. It is the people you are with. My favorite people are a joy to be around when they are stone cold sober. It’s the people. Not the booze that makes something fun.

I learned that I don’t need alcohol to feel comfortable around other people. I used to think I needed to chill out my nerves with a cocktail in order to not be awkward around other people. Turns out, I tend to talk a lot regardless and animatedly with my hands at that. I am kind of awkward. That’s ok. It’s me.

I learned that nobody else gives a hoot about whether or not I’m drinking. We are all so self conscious about whether or not we are fitting in ourselves, that we don’t have energy to focus on what anyone else is doing.

I learned that I’ve never woken up and regretted not drinking.

I learned that kombucha in a wine glass feels as indulgent as a glass of red wine. I learned that non-alcoholic beer tastes just a good as real beer and allows me to not feel different when I’m wanting to just blend in. I learned that it was the ceremony of having a special drink that I enjoyed more than the alcohol itself.

I learned that alcohol is everywhere. EVERY.WHERE. After runs at 6am. At baby showers. In conversations about how hard a day us moms are having. In texts about how it’s never too early to start drinking. In movies. In TV shows. In books. Everywhere. We are living in a culture where drinking is not just embraced, it is encouraged. It is marketed to women as the key to surviving motherhood. Fuck thriving. They tell us we must dull our senses with alcohol in order to simply survive the mundane life we’re living. This marketing to moms about alcohol is everywhere. And I bought in to it for years. It’s a lie. Full stop.

I learned that feeling all the emotions, even the really hard ones, is better than covering them up with alcohol. As Glennon Doyle said, “There’s only one thing that would be worse than feeling it all, and that is missing it all.” Alcohol isn’t helping you parent or cope with life. It’s likely contributing to any anxiety or depression you’re having.

I learned that I must listen to myself above all the noise. I knew that I needed to make this decision for a long time, but it took me years to actually get here.

I learned that I don’t have to have the answers for what happens tomorrow. Or in a month, or a year or five years. I simply need to focus on today.

Today I don’t drink alcohol.

Today I am alcohol free.

Today I am really fucking proud of making that one decision every single day for a full year.

This isn’t meant to convince anyone of anything. It’s to remind myself that I am capable of more than I thought possible. That sounds pathetic. That I thought so little of myself that I didn’t think I was capable of abstaining from alcohol for a full year. But as confident as I may seem to most people, I have insecurities and inner dialogues that tell me I’m not enough. Just like most people. I’m working to be my best self. And this past year proved a lot to me about who I am.

If you do want to chat, I’m an open book. There were a few women this past year that helped me believe in myself on this journey. I’d be honored to extend that same grace and support to someone else.

So cheers to me. Cheers to this milestone. And cheers to being true to following our own path in life, regardless of what anyone else is doing or saying.