Lululemon was my first job outside of a bar or restaurant. When I was hired, I was 28 years old, fresh out of college, and had just moved from my hometown of Waco, Texas to The Woodlands in North Houston. I’ve proudly been rocking my high-end yoga pants for nearly three years now – both in The Woodlands and New York City. This job has been a consistent support system for my sobriety and my coworkers have been some of my most enthusiastic cheerleaders. Here’s how the unique work culture has played a key part in my recovery:
Tag: alcoholic
500 Days of Sober
I’ve been sober for 500 days, y’all! It feels surreal sometimes. There are moments when I still feel like that 20-something party girl who was dancing on bars and taking body shots off of strangers. I have moments where I ask myself, “Am I really a sober blogger?!?!”. Yes I am! And I fucking love it. While recovery has its ups and downs, I’m grateful for it every single day. These 500 days have been full of happiness, heartbreak, anger, new adventures, and personal growth. Here’s 5 of my recent favorites memories in my first 500 Days of Sobriety:
I Heart Therapy
I started seeing a therapist in August 2016 when I was 9 months sober. I was prepared to be Goldilocks and shop around, looking for the therapist that was juuuuuust right. I lucked out and found “the one” on my first try; I’ve seen her every Wednesday ever since.
The first 9 months of my sobriety, or as I like to call it, BT (before therapy), I talked about what I was going through to anyone who was willing to listen. That was usually my therapy-advocating roommate. She listened to me, gave excellent advice, and found graciaous ways to sneak in the whole “you should see a therapist” message. I’d get annoyed, then after the 100th time, it finally sunk in. I realized that my neuroses weren’t so cute after all. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw circa season two of Sex and the City.
Sober in the City: How I Found a Whole New Sober World on Broadway
Back in my party girl days (years, actually), I went to a few concerts. Dozens. More like hundreds. I loved getting drunk and singing along with my favourite bands and musicians. I’d think to myself “OMG! Mick Jagger is like, right there!” Or when I was stoned, I’d think “Man… I’m breathing the same air as Dylan.”
While my passion has always been rock n’ roll, my taste in live music has ranged from bubblegum pop to intense hip hop. There was just something about being around live music that made me alive. And by “alive,” I mean “intoxicated.” I’d drink before, during, and after each concert. Since the lines for drinks were so long, I’d often order two beers at once, proudly “double fisting.”
Sober in the City: Bad Days Happen
Today was exhausting. I worked 8 hours on my feet at my retail job in SoHo. As much as I love people, it’s emotionally taxing to be “on” for 8 hours straight with a smile on my face. Towards the end of my shift, I was pretty grumpy. On my train ride home, my grumpiness continued when I realized the train had no seats left - like always. I had to stand for twenty more minutes, shoulder to shoulder with stinky strangers. I acknowledge that these are prime examples of first world problems. But as someone in recovery, the slightest thing can put me over the edge.
I stood there with my eyes closed, picturing myself taking a bath while drinking a glass of wine. This delusional thought was so relaxing, I may have even smiled. When the train slammed on its brakes to let me off at my stop, I was brought right back to reality: I. Can’t. Drink. Wine was never even my drink of choice, I was more of a Jack Daniels straight from the bottle kind of gal (#classy).
7 Lies I Told Myself (So I Could Keep Drinking)
When I was struggling with admitting the truth about my drinking problem, I spent a lot of time in a magical place called Denial. It was a diverse, overpopulated place filled with delusion, ignorance, and fear. I didn’t just camp out there, I moved in. I paid rent. I unpacked. I decorated. Living years in denial was expensive. Financially. Emotionally. Mentally. And physically. I lied to myself daily. I told myself that I was fine. I told myself that I was happy. The thought of addressing my drinking problem, giving up alcohol, and living a life without booze sounded next to impossible.
I didn’t know anyone who was sober. All I knew about sobriety was what I saw on TV or in movies: someone who’s lost everything and they have to go to AA to rebuild their lives. I told myself that I wasn’t one of “those” people. It was nice to pretend that everything was fine and that I had a healthy relationship with alcohol. That was a big fat lie. Here’s a few other lies I told myself so I could keep drinking…
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When Being a Party Girl Stops Being Cute
(This article also appeared on Huffington Post.)
The photo above is me passed out in the grass at 3am. I was 27 years old. While I don’t remember anything about the celebrations from that night, I remember telling myself that I “needed to celebrate” being back home after a 3 day weekend in LA. I blacked out completely. I somehow ended up in my front yard. I vaguely remember my roommates picking me up and carrying me to my bed. We laughed about it the next morning. One of my roommates sent me this photo and I posted it on Facebook because being a party girl was, like, soooooo cute. I continued to drink this way for two more years.
Some would argue that being a party girl (or boy) is never cute and I’m sure they have valid reasons for that. I would argue that - in moderation - there’s nothing wrong with having a phase in your life where you have a few too many drinks on the regular, act silly with your friends, and hook up with someone you barely know… as long as you’re safe about it. Yes, you read that correctly. This sober woman supports others getting drunk, safely. My toxic relationship with alcohol has nothing to do with other people’s relationship with alcohol.
My body was clearly giving me signs that the party girl lifestyle wasn’t for me anymore. These are some of the red flags I ignored for years, and wish I hadn’t:
Scare Your Soul - I Survived Wendy’s
Back in my fitness instructor days, my Instagram account proudly endorsed the #eatclean movement to the point of annoyance. I, like many other fitness professionals, thought that this hashtag would inspire people to make nutritious food choices. While it may have inspired some, I’m finally realizing that using phrases like “eat clean” could be down right insensitive and borderline damaging.
In case you missed my last post, I recently participated in Scare Your Soul, a challenge that encourages you to live outside of your comfort zone for 3 days. On day 1 & 2, I tackled my body image issues. I wanted day 3 to remain on the same body positivity path, but I was stumped as to how to go about it. My roomie / editor, Alisson, suggested that my third and final challenge should be eating processed foods for a day, every meal. I cringed and said “Nope. No way. There’s no way I can do that”. Then I realized that’s exactly what I needed to do. She encouraged me to do this because she thinks I’ve become a pretentious food snob (this is how we talk to each other, we’re very close) who only eats artisanal, organic, hipster foods. She suggested that maybe eating like I used to will remind me where I came from, and get me back in touch with my roots.
Feedback taken.
Challenge accepted. Let’s eat dirty.
Contributor Piece: Blackouts & Bourbon by Rich Binning
I don’t remember my last drink, but I think it was bourbon.
I was proud of the alcohol tolerance I’d built up through the beer soaked college years and continued to build through my mid to late twenties. I eventually graduated to manhattans and martinis. Or maybe I should say, “Graduated to manhattans and martinis when I was out on the town and also accompanied by cheap vodka hid in water bottles to assist with sleep, stage fright, social anxiety and increasing general drunkenness while on a budget”. I bragged about my high tolerance in the company of friends and they enjoyed trying to keep up with me.
The final night I drank, I was in mixed company and I was hyper-aware of how I did not want to be perceived. Ya know…like an alcoholic. I always counted the number of drinks everyone else had and was careful to have them think I drank the same amount. This often lead to me pre-gaming at my apartment before going out, sneaking to the bar and ordering quick shots for myself while out, and night caps once returning home.
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How to be Sober at a Wedding
I was worried about being sober at a wedding, especially in my hometown where I spent half of my life in a drunken haze. My former self saw weddings as a guaranteed path to intoxication and finding a hook up. Everyone else is going to be hammered, you can be, too! Make sure you get a bottle of Jack Daniels in case the reception is beer and wine only. Oooh…we can pre-game with the whiskey!
While most of my blog posts are written for a general audience, this one is specifically written with people in recovery in mind. Here’s a list of tips for attending a wedding sans booze: