I’m here to spill the tea (the SobrieTea) on some common sobriety myths. One of the many reasons I avoided sobriety was because I thought that giving up booze automatically coincided with how society and the media portray a booze-free life. Turns out there are no pre-requisites for getting and staying sober other than the desire to stop using. My story is atypical AF. Here’s how:
This is one of the most common questions that I’m asked. Looking back, I’d say that I knew I had a drinking problem when I started questioning my relationship with alcohol. The years leading up to the day when I quit drinking were filled with sporadic breaks from booze…just to prove to myself that “I didn’t have a problem”. Those years were also filled with Googling questions like, “Am I an alcoholic? Do I have a drinking problem? Should I quit drinking?”. I did a series of mental gymnastics in an attempt to convince myself that since I didn’t NEED alcohol every day, I was fine. I looked at how the media and Hollywood discuss addiction. I didn’t relate to any of those stories, so again, I was fine.
I’ve taken a step back to observe how two years of blogging has resulted in me finding my voice as a writer while simultaneously distracting me from writing. Listicles, branding, image, oh my!
At age 14 I wrote articles about progressive topics for my local newspaper, loving the fact that my voice was being heard. Even if it pissed people off. In high school I studied broadcast journalism, loving the prep work and screen time of being on the morning announcements. In my early twenties I “interned” (hung out unpaid) for a radio station, loving the platform to talk about music and current events with interesting people. I’m currently the music editor for NY Yoga & Life Magazine. I love chatting with musicians about their yoga practice, yogis about their playlists, and any other way the two worlds can intersect. I took a similar approach to sobriety: journalistic and explorative.
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 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.
Back in my party girl days (years), I went to a few concerts. Dozens. 100+ actually. I loved getting drunk and singing along with my favorite 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 Hanson to Britney Spears to No Doubt to Pat Green to Velvet Revolver to Lady Gaga to Snoop Dogg. One time I found myself barefoot in the mosh pit of a Limp Bizkit concert during “Break Stuff”. I eventually got elbowed in the face and decided to go back to head-banging in the comfort of my friends. And beer.
There was something about being around live music that made me feel 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”. Depending on what artist I was seeing I’d throw weed or coke in the mix, too. I’d get so drunk/high that I could barely remember the actual shows. I’d forget the songs they played, the people I met, and how I got home. Apparently “feeling alive” meant feeling nothing at all.
To live a sober life I had to change certain aspects of my lifestyle. Throughout all of these positive changes, something felt like it was missing. Drinking tea and reading books and laying low and avoiding bars was nice, but I wanted to feel the way I felt when I was at a concert. Ya know..that “aliveness”. That rush of live entertainment. Then I found Broadway.
My first Broadway experience was three months into recovery. I saw Misery in the Winter of 2015. I tried to suppress my starstruck groupie instincts, but it was tough. OMG! Laurie Metcalf and Bruce Willis are like….right there! I absolutely loved it.
Many of the things I loved about concerts (live entertainment, flashy performances, elaborate costumes, sharing a room with famous people) were available to me in a brand new way. Shortly after Misery, I saw Blackbird. OMG! Michelle Williams! Then Fully Committed. OMG! Jesse Tyler Ferguson! I found my new, safe addiction: live theater.
After seeing a few plays, I was ready to see a musical. OK, I’m lying. I was actually scared to see a musical (Yes, I’m serious). Even though I loved The Sound of Music, Grease, and Across the Universe, I didn’t think I was smart enough to follow a live storyline that randomly broke out into song. Insecurities are sooooo fun. I eventually got over myself and challenged that voice in my head telling me I was stupid.
For my birthday a few months ago, my aunt took me to see Wicked. I was excited to pop my musical cherry while simultaneously seeing my buddy/former co-worker Michael playing Fiyero, the male lead. After the show, he gave us a tour backstage. A few weeks later, I saw The Color Purple. Then Kinky Boots. Then School of Rock. And this week I saw Sunday in the Park with George. OMG! Jake Gyllenhaal!
I still go to concerts, just not as much as I used to. It’s hard for me to be in that setting and not feel tempted to drink alcohol. I find attending Broadway shows to be safe and relatively trigger-free because it’s a new activity I embraced in my recovery. I don’t have memories of being wasted at a Broadway show; I’ve only known it sober. Nobody’s shoving one another to get a better view. Beer isn’t spilled on my shoes. Joints aren’t being passed through the audience. At concerts, I’d bond with my friends over shots and beers and screaming the words to songs we loved. At a Broadway show, I bond with friends in silent appreciation of live theater.
The magic created on Broadway has opened my eyes to a world I knew nothing about. Growing up in a small Texas town, theater wasn’t discussed too often. I was in choir in 5th grade and I loved it. Then I learned it wasn’t “cool”, so I didn’t pursue it the following year. Kids at school made fun of anyone who was in theater, choir, or band. So instead of doing what made me happy, I joined the bullies. I just wanted to be part of something.
It bugs me that my relationship with alcohol has somewhat ruined my relationship with live music, but it is what it is. Sobriety has taught me that it’s OK to be less Sex, Drugs, Rock n Roll and more School of Rock. And that f*&%ing rocks.
As I continue into my second year of sobriety, I decided to follow my passion of personal growth. I chopped my hair off, enrolled in Spanish classes and sketch writing classes, and even went on a couple of dates (that’s a pretty big deal for me, but more on that next time).
This week continued down the path of new experiences when I took my first improv class. I’ve flirted with the idea of improv for awhile now, but the thought of emitting that amount of vulnerability scared me to death. I used to hide my vulnerability by binge drinking a ton of whiskey, but this year, I’ve decided to face it head on. I found a class at The People’s Improv Theater called ‘Improv Your Public Speaking.’ I hesitated, but finally signed up for the February 13th class as a Galentine’s Day gift to myself.
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).
This past Friday night, I attended a Yoginis Only (aka Women Only) yoga class at SWEAT Yoga in TriBeCa. This vigorous, heated flow was taught by the lovely Sarrah Singer. She guided a diverse group of students through an hour-long practice while we rocked out to an all-female playlist: 4 Non Blondes, Madonna, Meredith Brooks, Lady Gaga, and of course, Beyonce.
Back in my party girl days, my Friday nights consisted of pre-gaming (drinking in preparation for more drinking), getting dressed up to impress potential hook ups, hopping from bar to bar, then driving home drunk at 2:30am. My Saturday mornings, predictably, were full of headaches and regret.
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(This blog post originally appeared on Growing in Jersey City)
I used to drink a lot. Like…a lot. I’d spend so much money on alcohol and have nothing to show for it other than a hangover, random bruises, cringe-worthy Facebook photos, and way too many transactions being posted in my bank account. Since I’ve stopped drinking a little over a year ago, I’ve found a few ways to have fun here in Jersey City without booze: