My addiction to personal development started small, just like my issues with substance abuse. I didn’t think getting stoned on the weekends in high school would turn into a 13-year lifestyle of binge drinking and excess. In the same vein, I didn’t think that reading self-help books would lead to a three-year downward spiral of searching for “the best possible version of myself.”
Hi. I’m Tawny. And I’m not an alcoholic. I’m not powerless over alcohol. I don’t have an incurable disease. I don’t subscribe to any of society’s blanket labels for people who choose to live a sober lifestyle. So if I’m not those things…what am I? Well, like I said. I’m Tawny. I’m powerFULL. I’m a writer who loves music and tattoos and boys and political discussions that ruffle feathers. I used to abuse substances to avoid dealing with reality. I was a party girl who danced on bars, driving (and living) recklessly. I didn’t think much about anything; I just did everything. At age 29, I realized that I wasn’t living up to my full potential. Alcohol was wasting my time and money. So, I’m Tawny…and I’m sober.
Comfort zones…the enemy of most people in the self-help world. The way some people talk about comfort zones, you’d think they were akin to the plague. I’m going to do something bold here. I’m going to talk about the beautiful importance of staying inside your comfort zone. Yes, you read that correctly.
Over the last few months, I’ve compiled a list of “notes to self” in my phone while sitting on the subway. I wrote these reminders for my own sanity. They help me calm down when I feel a spiral of self-loathing coming on. This list isn’t always pretty, but it’s grounded in a reality that I’ve learned to accept. Call them mantras. Call them affirmations. Call them maybe.
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.
I did it. One year sober. Holy shit. I can’t believe it. This has been a really hard year. And being sober has made it harder in some ways. I’ve had to actually face my problems instead of getting drunk and pretending that they don’t exist. But now, I can’t imagine being any other way.
Being sober is hard, but it’s totally worth it. Here’s a few things that I accomplished this year that I don’t think I could have without sobriety:
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.
