After waking up in a bed shared by a stranger a few days later than my birthday on 28th of July I took the decision to quit drinking alcohol. It wasn’t the only time I’d woken in a strange apartment following an evening of drinking and the guilt I felt was severe satisfying to prompt me to make a change.
Within the 5 years that have passed since that hangover in Brooklyn the city has changed. A little background information: I’m a young person who was raised in a culture of work-hard-play-hard. When my exterior were impressive – excellent grades and a healthy body, active social life – it was a sign that I was fine also. However, I wasn’t; actually, I wasn’t. I had low self-esteem as well as disordered eating and a mind which told me that nothing I accomplished would ever be worthy sufficient. Alcohol was my solution to my anxiety. My first drink at the age of 16 was an exhale of a colossal size and a relief from my raging inner monologue.
You’re already aware of the direction this is heading. My drinking got messier. I often blacked out I lost wallets and got into fights with friends. I was embarrassed by hookups with drunken friends and shivered when I looked over my phone log and text messages the next day. I efforts to limit my drinking habits and made the rules regarding my consumption that included wine only and no shots, and drink water between drinks but it was impossible to achieve. At last, in the midst of a crisis I was able to change my ways. You can call it what you like alcohol dependence disorder or addiction, a problem with drinking. It doesn’t matter. I had gotten addicted to an addiction that was not serving me any longer.
I relapsed slowly and at the same time. It was a quick process to quit drinking I snubbed social hours, and then filled a box with shot glasses from the past which I hid in a closet, behind the rainboots. Recovery however began to creep in. On the suggestion of a therapist, lived my life by dividing my time in 24 hour increments: one day at a. I refilled your kitchen’s wine with a bag of licorice, and in moments when I thought a cocktail would sound appealing, I ate a piece of sweets to satisfy the craving for sugar. I watched many TV and drank six-packs of seltzer, and reaffirmed that my desire to drink would probably fade. The next day, it never did. Also, I found it useful when I “play the tape forward.” I would make that I was in a film of having my first drink, followed by the next, the third, etc. until awakening the next day with a headache that was splitting. Connection is said to be the antithesis of addiction and finding a community of sober people through meetings for recovery in my town was effective in the initial few months.
After a couple of months of hibernation I reemerged to the outside world. There were plenty of celebrations to attend like weddings, engagement parties birthdays, holidays, and birthdays I was determined not to skip out on any of them just because I was no longer drinking. But those first events after a clean slate were tough. At a friend’s engagement celebration, I sat down to a glass of water in order to appear as everybody else. I was in the bathroom of an event until the it was time to go out and was not sure if I could trust the champagne that was flowing freely. I felt like a nerve that was raw that was exposed and conscious of each passing minute. It was a bit confusing. I was surrounded by my friends and family members, and I didn’t know how we connected.
My discomfort was short-lived. After a couple of months my desire to drink virtually disappeared. I was beginning to enjoy the advantages of a alcohol-free lifestyle. I felt clear-headed and well-rested and less bloated. I was also extremely calm. I was extremely proud of myself for enduring the path of sobriety. I began to recieve confidence in myself. Where my bubbly confidence was always gone the new confidence I gained did not seem to fade away.
In some ways, participating in events early in sobriety offered an entirely different kind of high. Every single thing that I attended, from Friday night dates to dates seemed fresh. I felt like a doe-eyed newborn deer, a little shy but eager. I strolled through my alcohol-free beginnings as an anthropologist, taking note of the habits I’d forgotten during the haze of my drinking. Since I wasn’t always obsessed about the next glass of wine, I became engaged with my friends and asking inquiries about their life. I made sure to bring birthday cards to birthday dinners and assisted my mom cook the Thanksgiving desserts. At a wedding of a close friend I shed genuine tearful tears. I’ve cried at weddings prior to becoming drunk, however it always was towards the end of the night, when I was drunk and sloppy. I was also alone. Then, I realized how to truly celebrate my friends without the need to drink to mask or enhance my feelings.
However, while happy events haven’t enticed my to drink alcohol, I did have still occasions in my life that I wished I could forget. For instance, grief. As I was grieving the loss of both my grandparents within a year I cried non-stop for what seemed like months. The deaths of my grandparents seemed premature; they both had young bodies and died quickly. My grandparents resided in France and, due to COVID restrictions my family was not able to meet in person for their funerals, or even hug one another as we grieved. In my emotions, anger sorrow, and resentment were a mess of ugly and obnoxious. My envy was of others who were able to sooth their sorrow with a glass of vino which made me feel awkward to speak out.
In my twenties, when I was constantly drunk and self-absorbed, I went years without going to see my grandparent’s. When we did get as a couple after I was sober I made the most of my absence over the past decade, and refocused happy moments with them, such as browsing through old photographs and listening to stories from their childhood. When I went on a trip by myself to see them, instead of getting a buzz from wine during lunch my grandmother and I laughed as we ordered another plate of fries. A few days prior to my grandfather’s passing when I boarded an international flight to France in time and without an alcohol-related hangover, so that me and my father could be able to say goodbyes. We stayed up late clearing their house exhausted and jetlagged with tears of laughter as we discovered old photographs and old memories. I sat in my dad’s glass of wine at the end of every long day, and was a little curious about what it would be like to reduce the intensity of those particularly awful emotions. However, I was also content to be sober and present. It was at least a sign that I was there in my grandparents’ sofa one last time.
Before my decision to get sober, there was an endless list of things I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle without alcohol. The loss of a loved ones had been just one. My honeymoon was a different one; everything seemed to be based on drinking cocktails on the beach with your love of your life. I feared that nobody would ever want to marry someone who was sober, and that I would look boring. The thought of it was suitable to keep me in the habit for years, despite the fact that I had no boyfriend, and certainly not that I was planning a honeymoon.
When I was married in 2004, my long-awaited vacation finally arrived. As we landed in Hawaii I realized that I was right There was alcohol waiting for me everywhere. An alcoholic welcome drink at the hotel, cocktails menus at the beach, complimentary champagne during dinner. However, I saw everything differently than I had previously thought. My honeymoon was a living testimony that quitting alcohol was the best decision for me. Through sobriety, I was able to build confidence in myself which enabled me to create an enduring, loving relationship and celebrate my friends and be present to my loved ones. At the end of the day my honeymoon was a most memorable trip of my life in ways I never imagined. We got up early to catch the sunrise, laughed with friends, laughed together and talked in bed before settling down to sleep eager for coming back the following day. With no alcohol fog I vividly remembered the entire trip, something that wouldn’t have been the case if I’d been drinking. I let go of the one thing I was avoiding – alcohol and received a lot more than I expected. Life, including its pina coladas, in all their virginity have never tasted better.
Sarah Levy is the author of Drinking Games, a new memoir in essays about her relationship with alcohol and how her life changed in sobriety, available now from St. Martin’s Press. She lives in Los Angeles.
