Tiny Buddha

Tag: alcohol

  • When the Person You Love Is Disappearing into Addiction

    When the Person You Love Is Disappearing into Addiction

    “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and myself at the same time.” ~Prentis Hemphill

    I thought I had seen the worst of it. I thought I knew what it meant to watch someone you love disappear into addiction. My mother taught me that lesson long before I was old enough to truly understand it.

    Growing up, I saw her sink deep into heroin. I learned to read the signs before she even spoke. I knew when she was high. I knew when she was lying. I knew when she was gone, even when she was sitting right in front of me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was just a child, powerless in the shadow of a disease that stole her piece by piece.

    Now, decades later, I am living that heartbreak again. Only this time, it’s my husband.

    It’s a different substance—alcohol instead of heroin—but the same slow disappearance. The same unpredictable moods. The same sense of walking on eggshells, wondering which version of him will walk through the door. And the same helplessness, watching someone I love unraveling, knowing I cannot save him.

    But there is one thing that’s different this time: me.

    The Moment That Broke Me Again

    It was just another night that should have been nothing. That night we had gone out to a comedy show, and at first, everything was great. Good times, laughing, reminiscent of the old times, and yes, drinks were flowing, and everyone was in good spirits.

    But as the night went on and he had a few too many, things shifted. He started acting out a bit—being loud, joking in ways that felt disrespectful. There was a couple sitting in front of us, the woman also drunk, and her partner looked embarrassed and frustrated.

    Somehow, he and that couple’s energy fed off each other, and before long, he started flirting with her right in front of me.

    Later that night, when I brought it up and told him how hurtful it was, he said, “Why are you upset? None of this matters.” He explained that it didn’t matter because, in his mind, I wasn’t going to do anything about it anyway—that I wouldn’t leave or hold him accountable.

    That was the moment that really broke me, because it showed me exactly how little respect or value he placed on my feelings and boundaries.

    Those words stopped me cold. At first, rage flared, hot and bright. But then something in me shifted.

    I heard not just the words, but the pattern behind them—the pattern I’d been ignoring.

    I realized this wasn’t the first time he’d humiliated me, embarrassed me, or disrespected me. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten drunk, lashed out, and expected me to sweep it under the rug. And it wouldn’t be the last—not unless I changed something.

    Boundaries, Therapy, and the Pushback

    We are still together, but the way we are now is not the way we were before. We are doing the work.

    Therapy has been instrumental in addressing the root cause of his alcoholism—unpacking generational patterns and confronting the reality of what we’d normalized.

    For me, it meant recognizing that many behaviors I tolerated weren’t love but survival mechanisms shaped by my childhood. For him, it meant accepting that seeking help wasn’t weakness but courage.

    The first hurdles were admitting the problem and agreeing to seek help—both met with pushback.

    As an African American man, my husband struggled with the stigma around vulnerability, especially regarding mental health and addiction. Generational beliefs had taught him that asking for help threatened his sense of strength.

    Early therapy sessions were marked by defensiveness and silence, but patience and difficult conversations slowly shifted his perspective, especially when his mother told him that he was mirroring his father. She began telling him stories of how his father’s drinking affected their marriage. Even though she stayed with him, if things were different, she would have left.

    She also told him that I am not her, and if he doesn’t make a change, I won’t stay because I don’t have to. He realized that he was choosing alcohol over our relationship, but he didn’t know how to separate it from himself, as it has been a part of how he functions for so long.

    It is an inner struggle he is facing, but with honesty, strength, and dedication, he will continue to fight to become the true man he and I know he can be.

    The Work We’re Doing

    Therapy has helped me understand that contrary to what I experienced growing up, love without respect isn’t love at all.

    On my end, it’s been about patience and empathy, without excusing harm. On his end, it’s been about acceptance, accountability, and a willingness to face the truth, even when it’s ugly.

    We’ve set clear boundaries. If he crosses those lines, there are consequences.

    One boundary he must not overstep is respect. I love my husband, but I love myself just as much. I also told him if it comes to separation, just know I didn’t leave—you did when alcohol became more important than our relationship.

    We both understand this is a difficult situation that requires understanding and compassion, but consequences are final and forever life-changing. This mustn’t continue because this isn’t living. It’s just existing, and I choose to live.

    The progression is day by day. We still encounter stalemates, and we embrace them and push through them together. I know he truly wants to get better, not just for us but mainly for his own well-being.

    We have agreed that the cycle stops here, even if it means rebuilding everything from the ground up.

    Choosing Myself Without Leaving

    Choosing myself doesn’t mean walking away right now. For me, it means staying without losing myself. It means protecting my peace, even in the same home. It means no longer excusing disrespect just because it comes from someone I love.

    I am not the same person who silently absorbed my mother’s chaos. I know now that I can’t heal someone else by destroying myself.

    Some days, it’s still heavy. Some days, I still see my mother’s shadow in the bottom of his glass. But I’m learning to separate his fight from mine.

    I love him, but I love myself too. And I am finally learning that those two things can exist together—as long as I hold the line.

    If you are in a relationship touched by addiction, know this: you are allowed to choose yourself. You are allowed to demand respect. And you are allowed to break the cycle, even if you stay.

  • More Energy, Less Regret: Your Guide to a Sober Summer

    More Energy, Less Regret: Your Guide to a Sober Summer

    “Believe you can, and you’re halfway there.” ~Theodore Roosevelt

    We are used to people talking about Dry January or Sober October but rarely a Sober Summer. That doesn’t seem to be a thing—but what if it was? What if it could be your reality this year?

    I knew I wanted my relationship with alcohol to be different at many points in my twenties, thirties, and forties, and in the summer of 2017, I decided, “This is it—I am going to choose a different path.”

    That day in June left me with a terrible hangover the next morning. I didn’t parent well, I ate all the foods I wouldn’t normally, I underperformed at work, and I went to bed early in a fog of regret, shame, and guilt.

    I’d love to tell you that was my last drinking day, but it wasn’t. It took me another two and a half years from that point to get to the start of my sober life. One thing holding me back was thinking about all the things I was going to miss out on. I knew I could do a month of not drinking—I’d done that before—but three months, six months, a year… that felt like a big deal.

    January is sometimes seen as a reset time of year. Perhaps finances are a little tighter, maybe you already drank enough over the winter period, and a break from alcohol is seen as ‘socially acceptable’ in January.

    October has gained traction over the last few years as another ‘break from alcohol’ month. It fits neatly in that point between summer and Christmas and lends itself to a month of non-drinking because we might need a reset after the excesses of the vacation period.

    What I now know, after more than five years of being a non-drinker, is this: We don’t need to be confined to other people’s expectations of when it’s a good time to have a break from alcohol, and also, it doesn’t have to be for a fixed thirty days. We are allowed to make our own rules, challenges, or well-being experiments when we want to and for however long we want to.

    When I initially decided that I was going to set myself an experiment and choose not to drink for one year, I really worried about all the summer fun I might miss out on. I usually switched my regular drinks around for the summer. Red wine and heavy cocktails were out, and rosé wine and spritz cocktails were in… in abundance.

    That first sober summer I worried about how I would navigate a friend’s wedding without champagne for the toast, how I would do a festival without a bottle of beer, and what other people would think of me if I didn’t bring a bottle of wine to a BBQ.

    It all seemed like too much to process and too much to try and work out. In the end, I decided to come up with some strategies to support myself. I had worked for over twelve years in a local government role, supporting people with their substance use and misuse, and it was time to start listening to my own good advice.

    I realized I needed some compassionate self-talk, some scripts to use for other people’s comments, and some practical steps to follow to navigate events where alcohol was going to be served.

    If a sober summer sounds like a good idea for you, then here are five pointers (and some journal questions) to support you in finding your sober serenity.

    1. Be intentional.

    Don’t see drinking as inevitable. Give yourself plenty of joyful thoughts, feelings, and choices around being a non-drinker.

    Choose: How would you like to think about alcohol?

    Examples: I chose to see alcohol as an unnecessary addition to this day. I know that alcohol won’t help me connect authentically with those around me today.

    Choose: How would you like to feel about alcohol?

    Examples: I feel empowered in my choice not to drink today. I feel joyful about being hydrated and clear-headed through this weekend.

    Choose: How would you like to behave around alcohol?

    Examples: I behave in a neutral way around alcohol; I neither want it nor think about it. I behave as if alcohol has little meaning to me.

    Picture it all in your mind’s eye, write it down, and talk to yourself about it. This will support you to make it your reality.

    Know that you are likely to enjoy some physical benefits from a sober summer quite quickly—think improved sleep, better cognitive function, clearer skin, and more.

    2. Have answers ready for social situations.

    What will you say to other people when you arrive at social events, and they ask why you’re not drinking? Do you need to say anything? Will you make it no big deal that you’re not drinking?

    Perhaps you’ll just say, “Thanks, I’ll have a ginger beer,” or “Thanks, I’d like a sparkling water.”

    Do you need or want to say anything at all? You will never owe anyone an explanation for your behavior around choosing not to drink.

    What you drink when you get to a party/gathering/dinner might feel important to you. Is it an event where you will have to choose from the drinks on offer, or is it an event where you can take your own? If you know the answer upfront, you can decide on a plan.

    Want to know what is super important about answers to questions like these? Planning them and then following through. It will do wonders for your self-esteem and confidence to arrive home from a social event knowing you can rely on yourself to follow through on what you decided.

    3. Avoid summer stress and overwhelm.

    What can you do to simplify your life this summer? Can you reassess the social activities that you were thinking of? Can you say no to some invitations that don’t fill you with joy? Can you do more of what you really like doing?

    See this time as an experiment. If you are not 100% sure about what you love doing in the summer, now is a great time to explore and find out.

    The emotional space created by removing alcohol allows you to reconnect with yourself and identify which social situations truly energize you versus those you merely tolerate with a glass in hand.

    4. Find your peace or your emotional middle point.

    So often we drink in the summer to relax, distract, numb out, or relieve boredom. You can find better habits that support your emotional, physical, and spiritual health in other ways.

    Are you going to enjoy a meditation practice? Are you going to spend more time outdoors? Are you going to start journaling?

    Will you recognize what you want to distract or numb yourself from? Will you recognize why you might need alcohol to make events feel more fun or exciting? What are the things that feel uncomfortable for you?

    5. Try these ideas as an experiment.

    You don’t have to commit to quitting drinking forever if that feels wrong or too difficult right now. Just enjoy what is ahead for the next couple of months. See how you feel doing a sober summer. See if you feel more serene and then reassess in autumn.

    Experiment and explore new drinks. How about a ginger beer, a lime cordial and club soda, or a Shirley Temple? The alcohol-free beers, no-alcohol sparkling wines, and botanical drinks are worth exploring too.

    A sober summer can serve as a conscious experiment in intentionality. It doesn’t have to be about permanent abstinence but rather creating space to re-evaluate your relationship with alcohol on your own terms. Enjoy!

  • How to End Problem Drinking: The First Steps

    How to End Problem Drinking: The First Steps

    “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” ~Marcus Aurelius

    It’s 3:00 a.m. I lie awake knowing I have a busy day ahead of me, but my mind is racing. I had a few drinks last night, and I know that this is why I am awake at this ungodly hour. “Why did I drink when I knew I had to work today? You are a fool. You are weak. You are useless.”

    This is how I used to talk to myself most mornings, perhaps with riper language, and the process would repeat itself when I had to get up and face the day.

    I wasn’t anything like a bottle-of-spirits-a-day drinker, but I knew that even a couple of beers and a glass of wine with dinner would ruin my sleep and leave me feeling well below par. And it all added up over the week to a level of consumption that I knew had long-term health implications.

    Then six o’clock would roll around, and I would talk myself into having a drink again—I was stressed and needed to relax. Heck, I deserved it, didn’t I, after such a busy day?

    This is the cycle that keeps so many of us trapped in a drinking habit. That negative self-talk is a manifestation of the internal conflict that is going on inside our heads, which psychologists call cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance arises when we encounter a situation where we have conflicting beliefs and attitudes or exhibit behavior that contradicts those beliefs and attitudes.

    When we experience cognitive dissonance, we feel discomfort or stress and will try to find a way to reduce that. Our choices are to change our behavior, change our beliefs and attitudes, or come up with a story that papers over the cracks and hides the disagreement in our minds.

    As someone who had been drinking all my adult life, I was terrified of changing my behavior. I was caught in the bind that most regular drinkers face—the barrier to change seemed very high because of how many times I had tried and failed to moderate, but worse, I didn’t even want to become a non-drinker! I thought life would be boring, socialization would be impossible, and I would be miserable.

    As I write this, six years after my last alcoholic drink, this mindset seems bizarre, baffling, and illogical. As L. P. Hartley wrote: “The past is another country; they do things differently there.” My life is now infinitely more rewarding and less stressful, and I don’t miss alcohol in the slightest, but my past self would never have believed it!

    Habitual drinkers know that changing their behavior is hard, but most of them don’t know why or are in denial about it. The reason why moderation is difficult is simply because alcohol is an addictive substance, and if we have been drinking for long enough, the reward pathways in our brain are exerting pressure on us to get the stimulus the brain has learned to crave.

    So not only do we suffer from cravings, but when we drink, the alcohol passes through the blood-brain barrier and suppresses the prefrontal cortex, which is the part of the brain that cares about the long-term—our health, our relationships, and that good night’s sleep we need before we go to work the next day. So the effect of alcohol on our brain makes the single drink we have promised ourselves turn into a few.

    For this reason, problem drinkers find it difficult to change their behavior and must find another way to resolve the cognitive dissonance by telling themselves stories.

    I used to downplay the health risks because I had read an article that said a glass of wine a day is good for you (conveniently ignoring the fact that I had a lot more than a glass of wine a day) and downplay the risk to my relationships caused by drunken arguments. After all, alcohol helps us bond, doesn’t it?

    Another story I would tell myself was that drinking was the lesser of two evils; life without alcohol would be boring and stressful, so it is better to put up with all the downsides of being a booze hound.

    The problem is that, on some level, we know this is BS, so we constantly feel the stress of cognitive dissonance. Of course, there is a quick fix for this, which is to have a drink. That immediately scratches the itch of the craving, and soon the alcohol will have a sedative effect and subdue the conflict in our minds. And so on to rinse and repeat the following day.

    The other thing I found was that not only was this negative self-talk keeping me drinking, but it was also seriously damaging my self-esteem.

    Shortly after I became alcohol-free, I went on a yoga and fitness retreat. There were some great workshops, which I enjoyed, but I started to feel uncomfortable whenever someone would mention “self-love.”

    Not only did I not love myself, but I also didn’t even particularly like myself. Years of calling myself every name under the sun and beating myself up every day had left me believing my inner voice—I was worthless, weak, and pathetic.

    If this sounds familiar to you—and it might be for some other habit than drinking—then you might benefit from what I have learned about fixing how we talk to ourselves.

    1. Treat yourself with compassion.

    The first step is to put down the weapons of blame and shame we have been using against ourselves. They haven’t worked in the past and won’t work in the future. You know this because if they worked, you would have this under control by now.

    The first step is to treat ourselves with compassion and understanding. We have a problem. We might wish that we didn’t, but that is not the world we are living in. We’ve fallen prey to an addictive substance, just like millions of other people in every culture and from every possible walk of life. We are taking responsibility for solving this problem, but we are not going to keep blaming ourselves for being in this predicament.

    Just take a moment to think about how you talk to yourself. If your best friend spoke to you like that, would you stay friends with them? Would you talk to your friends like that? I hope not!

    Once you have noticed how you talk to yourself, try to catch yourself when you are being unkind and replace what you said with a more positive frame. For example, if you drank last night and you want to beat yourself up for it, try something like, “OK, I drank last night and I said I wasn’t going to, but that’s OK. I recognize that I have a problem, and I am doing something about it. There are bound to be some bumps in the road.”

    2. Be honest with yourself.

    As you notice the way you talk to yourself, also become aware of the stories you are making up, like the ones I mentioned earlier, that alcohol wasn’t bad for my health or my relationship with my wife. When we do this, we realize that we have been lying to ourselves.

    Deep down, we know these stories we have created to justify our drinking are complete BS, so we may as well admit it to ourselves openly. By doing this, we start to untie the knot of cognitive dissonance we have tied ourselves up in, and our stress starts to unwind.

    One of the most powerful things I did when I was deciding whether I wanted to quit drinking was to make two lists: all the benefits of drinking versus all the downsides. I can tell you that the first list was much shorter than the second.

    I also challenged the listed benefits to see if I was 100% sure they were true. For example, I had put down that I needed alcohol to socialize. While it was true that I had often used it for that purpose, I thought about the times that I had enjoyed the company of others without alcohol. Also, it was undeniable that some people have relationships and social lives without drinking.

    I found that nearly all the benefits could be challenged, or at least qualified. For example, I noted that I liked the buzz I got from drinking, but when I paid attention to that the next time I had a few drinks, I noticed that I enjoyed the buzz for the first half an hour or so, but then I would be chasing that high with more alcohol that just made me fuzzy and distant from the world.

    3. Tackle the underlying problem.

    Once I had seen through my own stories and understood the harm that I was doing to myself, I found that the answer was obvious—I needed to quit. However, even though I could see that this was the only way forward, it still seemed daunting to face forever without a drink.

    My experience was that I would quit for a few weeks, and then I would have a wobbly moment, like going to a gig and trying to do it sober, and I would go back to drinking. I did this three times over a period of a few months until the last time when it stuck.

    Here’s where I would recommend doing things a little differently than I did, which is to get some support. That will look different depending on how much you drink, how long you’ve been drinking, and what works for you. If you’ve been a heavy drinker for a long time, you need to take medical advice, as withdrawal from alcohol can be very dangerous.

    As well as getting support, I recommend giving yourself a defined period without alcohol rather than saying it’s forever, which feels scary. Try taking a month or two and see how you feel, but be aware that the full benefits of going alcohol-free may take several months to become apparent.

    For example, I found I had so much extra time once I had stopped drinking, and it took me a few months to find ways to fill that time. Now, I am incredibly fulfilled by my hobbies in fitness and music production and am rarely bored, but that was not the case in the first few months.

    Becoming aware of how I talk to myself has been seriously life-changing for me. I now have much better self-esteem, and the relief from getting rid of all that cognitive dissonance about drinking has been immense. So be nice to yourself—it might well change your life.

  • Dry January: How It Creates Space for a Better Life

    Dry January: How It Creates Space for a Better Life

    “I think this is the start of something really big. Sometimes that first step is the hardest one, and we’ve just taken it.” ~Steve Jobs

    I’ve had a dysfunctional relationship with alcohol for almost as long as I’ve been drinking. I was mostly a binge drinker through college and into my twenties and thirties. I could drink “normally” sometimes, but I never really knew if I would stop at two or ten. Two felt okay, but ten would land me blacked out and barefoot on the bar, which was never a good look for me.

    It scares me now to think about all the things I did after too many Crown and cokes, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Everyone was drinking heavily. It was part of the culture of the people I surrounded myself with. Hangovers were badges of honor, and blackouts, provided nothing horrible happened, became funny stories to tell the next day over greasy fast food eaten to soak up the vodka from the night before.

    It wasn’t until I got into my forties that I really started to question my relationship with alcohol. In 2016, shortly after turning forty, my drinking went off the rails. At the time I was raising four young children in a blended family, and I was trying to stay afloat in a job that expected more of me than I was capable of giving.

    Despite the stress, by all appearances, I had it all together. Good job, healthy family, a roof over our heads, and a minivan in the garage. But on the inside, I was deeply struggling with depression and anxiety, both worsened by the extent of my drinking.

    As the year went on, things got steadily worse.

    My weekend drinking morphed into drinking one, sometimes two, bottles of wine every night. The hangovers started to last days, taking me out of work and keeping me from showing up for my family. My blackouts got scarier and more frequent, once landing me walking down MacDill Avenue alone and barefoot in the middle of the night with no memory of it the next day. My depression and anxiety became completely unmanageable, to the point that I made attempts on my life twice that year, both times incredibly drunk.

    I tried multiple times over the course of 2016 to stop drinking. But each time, in the back of my mind, I was, as Laura McKowen talks about, looking for the third door. I was sure there was an option between drinking like I was and stopping completely. I wanted so badly to be able to drink “normally,” but every time I stopped and then tried drinking again, I went straight back off the rails.

    Interestingly, it was an ordinary night (or day, really) of drinking in early January 2017 that finally brought me to my knees.

    On January 1, 2017, my husband took the kids to the pool so I could recoup from a cold that I’d been fighting. Instead of resting, I sat on the back porch and drank two bottles of wine. Nothing terrible happened, but I woke up the next morning with a deep knowing that something had to change. I was, quite literally, sick of my own bullshit.

    I once heard John Mayer talk about getting sober, and he said that he asked himself, “Ok John, what percentage of your potential would you like to have?” He decided he wanted 100%, and that couldn’t happen if he kept drinking.

    That January morning, after an ordinary night of drinking, I asked myself the same thing, and it became clear that I was only living up to a fraction of my potential because I spent so much of my time drinking, thinking about drinking, and recovering from drinking.

    I lay in bed that morning for hours with tears of fear and relief streaming down my face. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to stay sober but so relieved that I was calling myself on my own shit. I was finally ready to be done for real.

    Because I was ready at that point, I threw the kitchen sink at it. I journaled, meditated, moved my body, stayed close to quit lit and podcasts on living alcohol-free, and so much more. I made it my number one priority.

    For a while, nothing got as much attention as my recovery. Not my husband. Not my kids. Not keeping up with housework. Nothing. I focused all of my energy on saving my life for several months. And there was guilt around focusing so hard on myself at the expense of giving attention to my family, but, as I look back now, I’d do it again the same way. My husband and my kids have so much more of me now than they did when I was drinking.

    Dry January doesn’t have to be just a month of not drinking; it can be the start of something bigger. It can be the start of building a life that you love. A life that doesn’t have room for alcohol because it is so much better and brighter without it.

    I was able to see this process of getting sober as additive (adding in the practices that support and nourish my whole being) rather than just a subtractive process of giving up alcohol. And this is how I encourage you to look at it. As an opportunity rather than a life sentence. As something joyful and meaningful rather than something punitive. As a chance to build a life you don’t need or want to numb out from.

    Choosing to stop drinking is one of the most courageous decisions you can make. But courage alone isn’t enough; it takes tools, support, and a willingness to try new things to truly thrive.

    If you’re reading this and thinking, “That’s me,” I want you to know you’re not alone. The road to living alcohol-free isn’t easy, but it is possible—and it’s worth every step.

    When I started my journey, these tools became my lifeline. They gave me the structure I needed to reclaim my life, and they can do the same for you.

    Find Connection

    Johann Hari famously said, “The opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety. It’s connection.” Go to meetings (and there are so many options other than AA these days, my favorite being an online meeting platform called The Luckiest Club founded by Laura McKowen).

    Find a sober friend to help you stay accountable.

    Search for sober Facebook groups in your area and post a query for anyone wanting to meet for coffee.

    Lean into the love of your family and friends who may not be sober but support your journey.

    Whatever connection looks like for you, find a place where you can talk about your decision to not drink. Find people who know what it’s like to navigate a world soaked in alcohol without drinking. Talk about the challenges and talk about the triumphs. Whatever you do, don’t keep it inside.

    Find Support

    There are so many avenues for support these days. You can reach out to a therapist or coach. You can engage the help of your primary care doctor. You can find medication-assisted therapy and talk therapy online.

    It’s important to reach out to professionals who can help guide you in the right direction. With so many ideas and recommendations out there for how to quit, it can be incredibly helpful to talk with someone who can help you sift through your options and figure out what will move the needle the quickest.

    Try New Things

    Dry January is the perfect time to try new things. If something sounds interesting, give it a go.

    I tried watercolors, knitting, pulling tarot cards, every type of meditation known to humans, and so much more. Not everything stuck, but trying out different things occupied my time, challenged my mind, and gave me some useful distractions for when cravings hit. The things that did stick (Muse Headband meditations, journaling, and pulling tarot cards) are still the things that I credit with keeping me sober today.

    Meditate

    Meditation has been a game-changer for so many in recovery, and there’s a good reason for that. The smart and rational part of our brain (our prefrontal cortex) largely goes offline when we’re drinking excessively. Meditation is the best way to regain access to this part of the brain that makes healthy decisions.

    There are so many techniques to try. Emotional Freedom Technique, binaural beats, biofeedback (MUSE headband or the like) meditations, guided meditations…just to name a few. It doesn’t matter how you do it, just that you do it. Aim for three to five minutes to start and build from there.

    Educate Yourself

    There are tons of amazing books on sobriety these days. Memoirs and “how to” guides abound. Two of my favorite books for early sobriety are This Naked Mind by Annie Grace and Quit Like a Woman by Holly Whitaker. There are also some great podcasts out there (a quick Google search will point you in the right direction).

    It’s important to hear stories of other people’s struggles and successes. It’s useful to learn about the effects of alcohol on the brain and body. We all know that knowledge is power, and knowing the truth about alcohol very often gives you the power you need to be done.

    As you move into January this year, remember, it’s not about what you’re giving up but what you’re making space for. This month could be the beginning of a deeper transformation, one that helps you uncover the best version of yourself. The tools, support, and determination you need are within reach—this is your moment to take a breath and leap.

  • Liberate Yourself: 5 Reasons to Share Your Truth

    Liberate Yourself: 5 Reasons to Share Your Truth

    “When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write the ending.” ~ Brené Brown

    Do you ever feel like a character in someone else’s play? More so, a victim in your own story?

    I spent many years of my life this way. I was so consumed with what others thought about me, I didn’t even know how to be myself. I would put on a show I thought everyone else wanted to see. I’ve learned we don’t have to perform in life; we just need to be ourselves. Speaking with openness and honesty from the heart is our most valuable tool for living an authentic life.

    Growing up, I was a ‘sensitive’ kid. I was ridiculed often for simply having feelings. I learned pretty quickly to shut down, numb, and medicate.

    I began to have struggles with anxiety and depression. I didn’t really know this was what it was until it progressed into something much more unmanageable. I tried to talk about my feelings and was often questioned and shunned for them. Eventually, these feelings manifested into a pretty significant eating disorder.

    No one recognized my eating disorder because being thin was ‘in.’ However, to put it into perspective, I was tracking 500 calories a day, working out one to two hours a day, and purging anything I put in my body.

    I was confronted about this by two friends in college. I remember feeling relieved but also ‘found out.’ From my perspective at the time, I thought I was functioning well in life. I was going to school and working full-time while maintaining friendships and a new relationship.

    Even during this intervention, I found myself justifying the behaviors. Keep in mind, they were only confronting me about the eating disorder, not the daily binge drinking I was also engaging in.

    Fast-forward five years. I found myself married and divorced in under a year. Prior to the divorce, I was hiding my drinking of one bottle of wine a night. I was functioning in one area of my life but falling apart in all the others.

    Surprisingly, my addictive patterns never impacted my career. I was living a dual life, providing therapy to others while hardly treading water personally.

    In 2010, I found myself with my first DUI. I never did anything real to rehabilitate from this. And I concealed it to the best of my ability, hoping it would just go away. However, experiences tend to repeat themselves until we learn what we are supposed to learn. I got a second DUI in 2013. After that, I did a bit of rehabilitating but still didn’t stop the drinking. I was just no longer driving after the drinking.

    I paid $10,000 in legal fees simply trying to plead my case of being not guilty when clearly, I was guilty. This was such a moral conflict for me.

    I applied for my therapy license in 2016 and was denied approval. While I was being honest with the board about my recent DUI, they learned I was dishonest with my current employer about my initial one. My integrity was completely destroyed. I was looked at as a liar. I was living a double life, and I was exhausted.

    When the board exposed the truth, I felt shame and liberation at the same time. They showed me that my insides were not matching my outsides.

    I made a commitment to myself then to never hide the truth again. That day, I got sober from alcohol and have been sober for eight years now.

    Recovery taught me to be honest and to focus on doing the next right thing. So I became brutally honest in all areas of my life. More so, I learned if people are uncomfortable about my story, it’s not my problem. I started to see everyone had problems. I also saw a blessing in being open and honest because it created space for others to do the same.

    I’ve been told often that I am “courageous and brave,” but I was simply tired of being ingenuine. I was healing out loud because I nearly died in silence.

    When I decided to be honest, my life became better. I didn’t have to remember my story anymore. All the shame dissipated, and I was able to start making better life choices. People around me respected me more for owning my story. If you tell the truth, no one can hold it against you. The power was lost. The best part of it all was that I began attracting beautiful, like-minded people.

    Many people struggle with authenticity and truth-telling because they are holding onto the fear of judgment. However, sharing your truth also unlocks the potential for self-growth, discovery, and connection. This could lead to profound personal transformation and the development of more meaningful relationships with others.

    This is a game changer. It allows you to say what you want, ask for what you need, express your emotions, and celebrate your achievements. Every time you do, you expand that sense of confidence, growth, and joy. Soon, you’ll see vulnerability as a strength, not a weakness.

    You have the power to change your life, one step at a time. Here’s what will come from you being brutally honest:

    Self-acceptance/Authenticity

    You will learn to no longer run from the painful parts of your story. Your story may be the hope someone else needs. You don’t have to live a double life where you keep changing hats depending on who you are around. You can simply be you.

    Empowerment

    You’ll be able to use your experience to gain autonomy and self-determination. You will be able to give others the tools and resources to do the same.

    Resilience/Growth

    You will continue to strengthen your internal muscle to adapt and recover from challenging life experiences. You can’t gain resilience without walking through hardships.

    Connection

    Your relationships will shift from surface level to a deeper emotional connection. You will take the lead by sharing feelings and being vulnerable, and you will gain a stronger sense of understanding with others.

    Inspiring Others

    You will lead by example. You will be able to impact and create a positive environment. This can be contagious and encouraging to others. You may become a catalyst for positive change.

    Life is a collection of stories, a unique narrative that each of us creates with our experiences, challenges, and choices. Your story is a reflection of your journey. This implies your wins, losses, and everything in-between.

    Owning your story can be daunting because it does require that vulnerability. You will have to look back at your past, which may be uncomfortable or painful. You will have to look at your mistakes, choices, and imperfections. This goes against a culture that often emphasizes perfection and success. Moreover, sharing your story means the possibility of judgment or rejection from others.

    However, embracing your own past allows you to shape your own narrative. You are able to turn adversity into strength. You can recognize your self-worth by forgiving yourself and being more forgiving of others. You learn to love yourself and appreciate your mistakes for what they taught.

    Offer the most precious gift of all—your authentic self—rather than trying to be all things to all people.

    “Owning our story and loving ourselves throughout that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” ~ Brené Brown

  • Lost, Scared, and Broken: How Self-Awareness Saved My Life

    Lost, Scared, and Broken: How Self-Awareness Saved My Life

    “The first step toward change is awareness. The second step is acceptance.” ~Nathaniel Branden

    I felt lost. I felt broken. I felt scared.

    As I sat alone in that cold, dark jail cell, I felt like I had hit rock bottom.

    My feet chilled against the cold stone floor. The creaky wooden bench, stitched together with narrow strips, tormented me.

    Inmates shouted all around me. Their voices echoed in the dark. It was like the noise of the outside world had finally caught up with the noise inside my head. I just wanted to scream.

    I was sixteen, but I felt as if my life was already over. Shame and regret filled my heart as I wondered: Is this really all there is? Is this the path my life has taken? Who am I becoming?

    For the first time, I faced a truth: I was becoming the person I despised most—my father, a man consumed by addiction and destruction.

    My father’s absence was a constant presence in my life. Only occasionally, when he was off one of his benders and attempting to get clean, was he around. But usually, he would drink a lot of alcohol at the house.

    I hated him. I hated that man so much for the pain that he caused my mom. The sweetest woman that I have ever known in my entire life. She is the person in my life who taught me about true strength and resilience. She is one of the reasons that I know single mothers are some of the most daring and powerful people.

    Despite all the anger and hatred I carried toward him, I was walking the same path, making the same choices.

    I’d started drinking and smoking weed at thirteen, began selling drugs soon after, and was eventually caught with varied substances, lots of cash, and a scale.

    I was becoming no good, like my father. In fact, I was doing the exact same thing I hated him for—causing my poor mom so much pain.

    The weight of that realization was crushing. I felt as though I was drowning in the results of my actions and choices.

    I thought of my mother, a single woman. She did all she could to raise us. She had sacrificed so much for me and my siblings. And here I was, her middle child, sitting in a jail cell as the police smashed our house because they thought I’d been running a big drug operation. I was expelled from not just a school but an entire school district.

    I pictured her at home, staring at the smashed windows and broken-down doors in hurt and disbelief. The shame of that tore at me. I wanted to be the man who made her proud, the man who helped her, not another weight on her shoulders. I had let her down. I had let myself down.

    And at that moment, I knew—I couldn’t keep living this way. Something had to change.

    The Moment That Changed Everything

    In that cold, uncomfortable jail cell, I asked myself: Who am I becoming? Is this the man I want to be? Is this my future? The fear, shame, and regret were suffocating. I had no tools or mentors to help me through them. But even in the darkness, something clicked.

    This was my wake-up call. I had hit rock bottom. I had two choices: continue down this path toward self-destruction or take control of my life. It was now or never.

    When I got out, I made a decision to change. I did everything I had to do. I completed my community service. I attended a wilderness program. They put a group of troubled boys together and had them camp on islands for a month. I followed all the rules.

    It was one of the places where I first learned to face my fears. Because we were climbing a mountain one afternoon, and it was a steep one.

    I had a fear of heights (still do), and I forgot that I had told them this earlier that day or at the start of the program. Honestly, I can’t remember exactly.

    That day, I looked up at the mountain we were told to climb and decided to push through my fears. So I climbed. I was breaking my barriers and overcoming limiting beliefs. One instructor said something I can’t recall any teacher or peer telling me back then.

    “Look at you overcoming your fears, Eddy. I’m proud of you.”

    To be real, I forgot about that moment until now. Writing this blog has brought tears to my eyes.

    None of it was easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It took everything I had. I had to change my habits, face my limiting beliefs, and distance myself from those who wanted to bring me down.

    In fact, one of the hardest things then was that my “friends” abandoned me. None of them were there for me when I got out. None of them reached out to me. Still to this day, I haven’t heard any word from them.

    But it was the only way forward.

    Lessons in Self-Awareness and Reflection

    Looking back, I realize that the moment in the jail cell was the turning point of my life. It was the hardest, most painful experience I’ve ever had. But it opened my eyes to the power of self-awareness and reflection.

    Self-awareness isn’t about acknowledging your mistakes. It’s about knowing your core self. It’s about seeing the patterns in your life that hold you back. Then, you must choose to break those patterns.

    Through self-awareness, I discovered that I had the power to change the course of my life. And that’s what I want to share with you.

    How Self-Awareness Can Change Your Life

    1. Create space for reflection.

    You don’t need to hit rock bottom to start reflecting on your life. Take a few quiet moments in your day. It can be five minutes in the morning or ten minutes before bed. Ask yourself, “Where am I heading?”

    Journaling is an excellent tool for this. It allows you to get your thoughts out of your head and onto the page where you can look at them objectively. Journaling has been the saving grace of my entire life.

    When I lost one of my best friends to pancreatic cancer, I went backpacking and filled a whole journal.

    When I decided to make a big decision and take a risk career-wise, it was through journaling.

    When I had to make a decision or process the pain from a relationship, it was through journaling.

    If journaling feels overwhelming at first, start with one question: What do I need to let go of today? I ask myself this question every morning. Write down the first thing that comes to mind without overthinking it.

    2. Face the truth, even when it hurts.

    Real change starts with honesty. Be brutally honest with yourself. Look at your life—your habits, your choices, your relationships—and ask, “Is this serving me?” This level of honesty is uncomfortable, but it’s the first step toward growth. Growth’s largest leaps stem from stepping out of our comfort zone.

    3. Start small, but be consistent.

    You don’t need to make drastic changes overnight. Instead, focus on making small, meaningful changes in your daily life. Whether it’s improving one habit or letting go of one toxic relationship, these small steps will create lasting change over time.

    I learned this from a mentor of mine and James Clear’s book Atomic Habits. Starting small seems pointless to most of us. That change needs to come in one big, massive swipe. But that’s not how we work as people. That kind of change returns us to our original state.

    My mentor taught me that if we only move a millimeter to the left or right when driving, it will seem like we’re in the same spot at first. But a week, a month, or a year down the road? You will be in a completely different place in life than you would have if you went straight.

    4. Reframe your struggles as opportunities.

    I learned a big lesson: Our failures and mistakes are our biggest chances to grow.

    When you face challenges, ask yourself, “What is this teaching me?” Reframe your failures as lessons and use them to become stronger.

    So often people believe that their pain or the failures they’ve experienced in the past are what’s holding them back when actually it’s their perspective.

    These moments in our lives are actually our breakthrough moments. The moments when what was once a should or sometime later becomes a must.

    Almost all breakthroughs or massive moments of growth in our lives come from these failures, obstacles, or challenges. Whatever word you want to use. Mine had a significant impact.

    —

    That cold, dark jail cell was the lowest point of my life. But it was also the moment that saved me. Through self-awareness and reflection, I was able to take control of my life and change my future.

    For me, the journey started small—taking accountability for my actions, cutting ties with people who held me back, and focusing on one habit at a time. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, and I stumbled many times along the way. But each step, no matter how small, brought me closer to the person I wanted to be.

    You don’t need to have all the answers right now. Take the first step.

    I urge you to embrace your moments of stillness. They may come in peace or struggle. Use them to reflect on your life.

    Don’t wait until you’ve hit rock bottom to ask the hard questions. Take time to reflect on who you are, where you’re heading, and what changes you can make to live a more authentic, fulfilling life.

    Next Step

    If you’re struggling with where you are right now, take a moment today to pause and reflect. Ask yourself, “What can I learn from this? How can I use this to grow?” Embrace the power of self-awareness and start taking small, meaningful steps toward a better future.

    Take it from somebody who has been there—small steps do lead to big changes.

    So, go grab yourself a pen and paper and begin reflecting, reframing, and moving that millimeter in another direction. You’ll be amazed at how much your life will transform.

  • Celebrating Six Years Sober: Here’s How I Did It

    Celebrating Six Years Sober: Here’s How I Did It

    “I chose sober because I wanted a better life. I stay sober because I got one.” ~Anonymous

    Seven years ago, I never thought I would be able to say that I have been six years sober! I didn’t think I was physically addicted. I never got the shakes, never morning drank, never drank daily unless on vacation, never got a DUI (even though that was lucky), and never lost a job or a relationship because of drinking. I was, however, incredibly emotionally and mentally addicted.

    I am fifty-six years old and started drinking in high school. Except when pregnant, I drank 90% of all weekends from the ages of seventeen to fifty. I never did anything socially without drinking. If I couldn’t drink, I just didn’t go. If I had to go, I got out as soon as I could. My whole life was built around my weekend drinking.

    I loved drinking in my twenties. We would go out every Friday with our friends, get pretty wasted, have a ton of fun, wake up Saturday with a small hangover, wait for it to go away, and then party again on Saturday.

    Sunday was for eating crappy food, recovering, and getting ready for the workweek. I spent my weekdays going to college to get my teaching degree and then working as an elementary school teacher. I loved my life!

    I loved drinking in my thirties. I had two beautiful kids, a great teaching job that I loved, a pretty decent marriage, and great friends.

    We moved into a brand-new neighborhood with lots of new families and quickly made plenty of drinking friends! Every weekend we went to block parties or got together with neighbors, drinking while the kids were playing. The kids were having fun, we were having fun, no one was judging my drinking, and nobody had to drive—perfect! I was still great at my job, felt pretty successful as a mother, and was happy!

    Things started to shift in my forties. I think the biggest thing that changed was the severity of my hangovers. They were getting out of control. I was still having fun when drinking, and there was no way I was giving that up, but the hangovers were becoming two- to four-day events that just crushed me.

    During my forties, I started making deals and promises to myself. I spent hundreds of hours reading self-help books about drinking less, spending entire summer breaks trying to figure out why I could not cut down, adding thousands of pages to a journal and hundreds of entries to my blog. I could write a book!

    Why was I starting to drink on Thursdays (Thirsty Thursday) and on Sundays? Why would I find myself waking up at 2:00 every Saturday and Sunday morning with extreme anxiety, heart palpitations, and nausea and mentally torturing myself about how I hadn’t kept my promise to myself and yet again drank too much?

    I was starting to have more instances of embarrassing behavior, where I basically lost it while drunk. I would wake up so ashamed of myself, so disappointed in myself, making promises to myself yet again but also not understanding why I was having such a hard time keeping them.

    I mean, I wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t like my father. Now he was an alcoholic—losing many teaching jobs, requiring us to always move and me to attend six elementary schools, going completely off the grid on a bender, getting DUIs, losing his family—choosing alcohol over us. That wasn’t me.

    I had a great job, great family, great friends, and a great credit score, and I was a responsible, loving, caring human!

    I remember reading once that people who struggle with alcohol might feel like they’re standing on a burning bridge, trying to figure out why it’s burning instead of just getting off the damn bridge! I spent years on that bridge while the flames were destroying me. I hated myself while also keeping up the facade that everything was fine.

    I spent at least five to seven years in this pattern—drinking Friday and Saturday at least, having extreme physical, mental, and emotional hangovers Sunday through Tuesday, beating myself up, and promising myself that I would not drink the next weekend.

    I would feel so firm about that decision until Wednesday night, when I convinced myself that I was not that bad, that I didn’t need to stop, that I could control it, and then I’d spend Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday planning my drinking for the weekend.

    I would plan a party, a get-together, or an outing so I could say, “Well, I can’t stop drinking this weekend.” Over and over and over. I felt like I was on a torture hamster wheel, experiencing Groundhog’s Week every week for years. It was exhausting!

    I was just dumbfounded as to why I couldn’t figure this out. I am an intelligent, loving, caring woman who is not an alcoholic! I have a master’s degree, for God’s sake! Why couldn’t I keep my promises to even drink less?

    Here is how I finally did it.

    One Saturday, June 10, 2018, I was at my sister’s house, drinking, of course, even after promising myself I would keep it under control. I was probably on my second bottle of wine playing cards at around 11:00.

    My husband wanted to leave, and I didn’t want to stop. He left, and my brother-in-law drove me home around 1:00 a.m. Of course, I woke up feeling terrible. I felt like such an embarrassment, such a failure. I just wanted to take some pills that I had left over from a surgery. I almost did.

    I didn’t want to kill myself; I just wanted that day to be over so I could stop feeling so bad. I just wanted to go to sleep to stop thinking about what a miserable POS I was, but I couldn’t sleep because I was sweating and nauseous, my heart was racing, and my mind would not stop beating me up.

    My husband, who had always supported whatever I wanted to do, probably to the point of enabling, never got on me about my drinking or hangovers. He just wanted me to be happy, whatever that meant. He supported my drinking or quitting.

    He said to me that day, “Either quit drinking or be an alcoholic—you choose.”

    He was pissed, and what he said devastated me. How could he say that to me? Couldn’t he see the personal hell I was already living in—how much I was already beating myself up? How could he be so mean to someone suffering so much?

    Somehow, I got through the day of crying and anger and misery and made it to Tuesday, and guess what? I wanted to drink again the next weekend! What the hell! What is wrong with me?!?!

    All day Tuesday, June 13, and Wednesday, June 14, I had the most intense internal battle I have ever had. One voice reassuring me, “You are fine; you just slipped up. You are strong, not an alcoholic, and you can do this. Just try harder! You have a little drinking problem that you can beat. It is all about moderation management and harm reduction.”

    The other voice was pleading, “You need help!!! You can’t do this. You have been trying for years. You are getting worse. Make the misery stop! Make the call. Call the doctor. Reach out. Get out of your own head. Get help!!!”

    On Thursday, June 15, I made the scariest phone call of my life. I was sobbing when I said, “I need to make an appointment because I think I might have a drinking problem.”

    They asked me some questions, determined that I did not need to be admitted for detox, and made me an appointment in two weeks. Two weeks! How was I supposed to go that long without drinking?? I wasn’t sure I could, so I just stayed home, probably in bed, terrified about what the future held.

    Was this the right decision? Did I really need to get this extreme? Was this really necessary? How would I ever have fun and enjoy anything in life ever again without drinking? This was stupid! I was just going to cancel the appointment. I was not that bad! I didn’t think I wanted to stop. I didn’t think I’d ever be happy without drinking.

    But somehow, I made it to the appointment. I told the doctor what I was going through and that I didn’t think I was an alcoholic. I thought I had an alcohol use disorder.

    The doctor asked me, “Have you tried to stop and cut down? Have you been unable to?”

    My answer was yes.

    He said, “Call it what you want, but you are an alcoholic, and alcoholism is a progressive disease that will just get worse. You need professional help.”

    I sat there in shock, much like when my husband said that to me.

    I just said to him, “That wasn’t very nice,” and he said, “Sometimes the truth isn’t nice to hear.”

    That took me days to process. Could he have been right? Could I have been fooling myself? Could I have been in DENIAL??? What? Not me! Would I just get worse? Would I become like my father, who lost everything and eventually died from the disease? I was so confused.

    I finally came to the truth. I did have a problem. And I was physically addicted as well.

    I was a mess, and I had been for a long time. I was so dysfunctional in my relationships and with my behavior, and I was finally able to see that alcohol was killing my soul.

    All the embarrassing moments, the broken promises, and the time spent feeling horrible about myself were destroying me. I was living my own personal hell inside my brain, which I fiercely protected because I didn’t want anyone telling me I should stop drinking or judging me. I decided to take the next step.

    I signed up for outpatient therapy with group support meetings three times a week and individual therapy once a week. I like to think of this time period as when I walked out of the fog.

    All of these people, who were clearly worse than me (lol), with their DUIs, their court-ordered attendance, and their multiple relapses on heroin or opiates or alcohol, had the exact same thought processes as I had been dealing with for decades.

    I was overcome with wonder, awe, and curiosity that the addicted brain tells all of us the same lies no matter how “bad” we are, what our drug of choice is, or how bad things have gotten. We all had the same addicted voice torturing us, begging us with all types of rationalization to not stop feeding it.

    When they spoke, I felt like it was my own voice. How could this be?

    I couldn’t get enough of the metaphors (riding the craving waves or watching the clouds pass by) and the personal stories.

    I spent those six weeks completely immersed in my own recovery, much as I had spent the past ten years completely obsessed with controlling it and the previous two decades in love with drinking. Alcohol had been my lifelong obsession, bringing the best and worst of times.

    I was diagnosed with OCD and general anxiety disorder. Well, that was no surprise to me! I tried antidepressants, but they gave me brain zaps, which scared me, so I stopped. I often pondered the “chicken or the egg” question. Was I self-medicating, or did the alcohol cause these struggles? But again, the burning bridge…. What difference did it make?

    I am not overly religious and did not attend any AA meetings, but many of their sayings, which I used to think of as so cliche, really stuck with me. One is “one day at a time.”

    That became my mantra because thinking about how I was going to do holidays, weekends, parties, and vacations without drinking was impossible to even comprehend and had led me to many a relapse.

    Thinking about how much the future was going to suck without alcohol made me not give up alcohol for way too long. I just focused on one day at a time.

    Each of those sober days under my belt built up my toolbox and strength to get through another weekend, event, or vacation. I was strengthening my sober muscles every day that I didn’t drink.

    That first year was not easy. I cried, had debilitating anxiety attacks, isolated myself, and pretty much lost contact with all my friends. While I was so proud of myself and felt so much better, I was also pretty sad, lonely, and scared.

    The last five years have not been a walk in the park either. It isn’t all rainbows and unicorns now that I have stopped drinking.

    I still struggle a great deal with anxiety. I am struggling with a terrible case of an empty nest. I miss my kids so much! I miss them needing me.

    I miss the joy and anticipation I used to get from planning my next weekend, vacation, or drinking event. I have a hard time looking forward to things. I don’t have a lot of friends because I am scared everyone will just want to drink. I am not tempted to drink, just a little jealous of how much fun they are having, so I would just rather not attend.

    When I overcome the social anxiety that I medicated with alcohol and actually do attend a social event, I am glad I went, and I find it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated. But, more often than not, I decline.

    I have learned that I am an extremely sensitive and insecure person. I can be overbearing and a bit controlling. I have built a life on what others think of me, putting up this facade that everything is perfect, trying to be the perfect version of myself, and hiding all of my insecurities and obsessions with external validation.

    I am not great right now and am going to go back to counseling to deal with some of these issues. At least I can see myself more clearly.

    But I do not for one single second regret quitting drinking! I learned that I miss the anticipation of drinking more than the drinking itself. I absolutely do not miss the hangovers and beating myself up about broken promises or drunken behavior.

    I, without a doubt, would have been worse today in my addiction than I was six years ago had I not stopped. I miss the high highs but do not miss the low lows. It just isn’t worth it. The pain of stopping was better than the pain of continuing.

    I am so much more present now. I can have conversations with other people and not have it always about me or when would be a good pause to refill my glass.

    I had become pretty self-absorbed, and, while I still struggle with that, it is so much better. I can be there for people when they need me. I don’t have to plan my whole life around when I am going to be able to drink. I have learned, shockingly, that many people don’t drink. I am still amazed at how many people in a restaurant aren’t drinking. I thought everyone drank!

    I am so much better at managing my emotions and trying to always be a better version of myself. My negative self-talk, while still there, is much better. I have also gotten so much better at understanding that everyone does not see the world the way I do, and it is not my job to convince them to see it my way, as if I am always right.

    I feel I am better at stepping back, being an observer, and not living in this constant state of trying to control everything.

    I am also recently realizing that I bring chaos into my life. I have remodeled a house, sold a house, cleaned out my mom’s house, built a house, moved across the county, bought a condo, and had four different teaching jobs in the past six years. Am I trying to replace the chaos of drinking with other chaos?

    I have a long way to go in terms of being mentally healthy, but at least I can see my shortcomings a little more clearly, a little more objectively, a little less emotionally charged, and a little more rationally so that I can work on them without self-medicating.

    Most of all, I am so stinking proud of myself! I did it! I didn’t think I would ever stop drinking!

    I still have drinking dreams, especially when stressed, but they remind me how far I have come, how much work I did, how proud I am of myself, and also that I will never be cured, and that’s okay.

    While not perfect, I am absolutely a better version of myself. I can rationally see my struggles without blaming them all on alcohol, and I can try to deal with them.

    I am so grateful that I did not lose my loving, supportive family, my career that I love, or my own life to this terrible, devastating disease called alcoholism that I do accept I have. I am so proud to say that I am a recovering alcoholic.

  • What I Know About Healing Now That I’ve Ended Contact with My Mom

    What I Know About Healing Now That I’ve Ended Contact with My Mom

    “Not all toxic people are cruel and uncaring. Some of them love us dearly. Many of them have good intentions. Most are toxic to our being simply because their needs and way of existing in the world force us to compromise ourselves and our happiness. They aren’t inherently bad people, but they aren’t the right people for us.” ~Daniell Koepke 

    If someone had asked me a year ago if I would ever cut contact with my mom, my answer would have been a definite no.

    After reconnecting with my dad in 2020 (we didn’t speak for over eleven years), I decided to handle this parent business differently.

    Part of me strongly believed that if I was healing and doing this inner work right, I would be able to find a way to coexist in a relationship with my parents, and that I had to do that at all costs.

    My mom and I were always very close. Although our relationship was toxic, we had a bond that I believed was unbreakable.

    She used to say that I was a rainbow baby since she lost my sister to a shooting accident before I was born. After my sister died, they told her she would never have more children. One year later, she got pregnant, and I was born. Everyone was saying that she was beside herself, and I believed it.

    Although there was a lot of abuse and violence happening in our household, I saw her as someone who was fighting for her life to move beyond the trauma of her past while losing it to a bottle of vodka to numb and escape.

    I believe this is why I always had this unsettling drive not to give up and be defined by the past while never shying away from addressing it. I saw the consequences we face when our souls are unhealed and how unaddressed trauma drives everything.

    The first time I clearly saw how toxic the relationship with my mom was and how it affected me was when I read the book Silently Seduced: When Parents Make Their Children Partners by Kenneth M. Adams, in 2020.

    It was the most difficult but revolutionary book that I had ever gotten my hands on. I remember times when I had to put the book down and take deep breaths to stomach the deeply confronting truth I saw myself in. Reading this book marked a breaking point for me when the dynamic between my mom and I started to change.

    As the years went on, her alcohol abuse became uncontrollable. I think she lost any desire to fight her addiction, which she always had before. Although we live on two different continents, I began to wake up to Facebook messages from her attacking me and calling me names while demanding I send her more money.

    Therefore, in December 2023, after pleading with her repeatedly to seek help and threatening her that I would stop talking to her if things continued the way they were, I decided to act on my word. I ended my contact with her for the first time. Since then, we haven’t been in touch. Here are four things this decision and reflecting on it periodically taught me about healing.

    1. Pain doesn’t always subside.

    Someone once told me that the pain that I feel regarding my mom will eventually subside. Although I am doing a much better job at dealing with this situation internally, I understand that pain of this sort doesn’t always subside. I must learn to carry it with grace.

    When we look at the person we love destroying themselves while not being able to do anything, how can we let go of the pain we feel? This pain comes from love, not from others doing us wrong. And those, to me, are two different types of pain. Although learning how to deal with our emotions is up to us, when we love, we also hurt.

    The two most empowering practices that have been helping me are accepting things I can’t change and allowing myself to release what I feel without stuffing it up. I don’t try to hold my emotions in or lie to myself that I don’t care when, in fact, I do. I choose not to shy away from the emotional discomfort and to take time to reflect on how I am progressing with this no-contact situation as I move through it.

    I also see my pain as a sign of the deep love I am capable of. Understanding that my capacity to feel pain reflects the capacity to feel love helps me ground myself and, in a way, befriend the pain instead of rejecting it.

    2. It’s important that we honor our healing.

    There is no right or wrong way to heal. It is one of the most complex and imperfect paths we will ever walk, and honoring every step of it is the only thing we “should” do.

    For all those years, I felt immense guilt that I couldn’t help my mom. I felt like a failure, working with women from all over the world to heal themselves while being powerless to help a woman who gave birth to me.

    Only those who have ever dealt with an addict close to them can understand the pain this brings. After some time, we realize that the only thing left to do is to sit back and watch the tragedy unfold, as if we are watching some heart-aching movie, while understanding that only an addict can help themselves.

    It took me many years to start accepting that I couldn’t fix this situation while paying attention to the pain I felt.

    Often, when a person struggles with alcohol or drug abuse, the focus is, understandably, on them. However, people around them are affected as well. For as long as I can remember, I battled with the desire to turn my back on my mom while shaming myself for wanting that.

    Eventually, I started to pay attention to the effect this had on me and stayed away from people who said things like, “But it’s your mom.” I was and am fully aware that this is my mom, whom I love deeply. I am also mindful that these remarks come from people who’ve probably never stood in my shoes.

    As Brené Brown said, “You share with people who’ve earned the right to hear your story.” This is especially true when it comes to our stories of shame. There were times when I thought about how easier my life would have been if my mom died and I didn’t have to deal with her alcohol. A few moments later, I felt paralyzed by shame, judging myself for having had these thoughts.

    Today, I choose to own my story of shame and work on forgiving myself. I understand that these thoughts come from desperation and a desire to escape her addiction, which, in a way, I did when I moved to the U.S.

    Recognizing the source of it while offering myself compassion and forgiveness helped me work through my unmet expectations of her recovery while becoming more resilient to face our dysfunctional relationship.

    3. Sometimes we have to love people from a distance. 

    One of the hardest lessons I learned on my healing journey was this: love doesn’t equal presence. Requiring presence to love is attachment.

    Eventually, I understood that I could love my mom while choosing not to be around her because it isn’t healthy for me. This, of course, came after a series of inner battles, and it certainly stretched me beyond my comfort.

    The biggest battle for a person who is in contact with an addict is to choose when to leave or when to keep fighting for them. This often comes with doubts because we don’t want to give up on them, and we constantly question whether we did everything we could to help.

    But when we choose to distance ourselves while keeping love in our hearts, we are honoring our mental health while still loving those who struggle. We understand that their paths are not ours and that our mental health, healing, and life matter as much as theirs.

    4. We heal better when we choose to understand. 

    One thing that helped me while healing my relationship with my mom was looking at her life from a place of curiosity and understanding.

    At first, I used this understanding to excuse her behavior while holding lots of anger and resentment toward her. Although I would call her every day and send her money every month, I resented her for the mother she was. As I progressed in my healing, I realized that I could only understand her actions and heal the pain from my past if I honored what was true for me. And that was to distance myself and go no contact.

    It helped me to look at her with more compassion while considering everything she had been through as a child and the fact that she had done no healing work (coming from the era where mental health was taboo). It also helped to recognize that she really tried. I know she did. And I think knowing that hurts the most.

    Reflecting on my mom’s life and understanding her while healing myself helps me to detach from her actions while knowing that whatever she did, it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t because she didn’t love me but because she didn’t know how to handle her own demons.

    It also shows me the importance of making healthy choices for myself. In a way, I am learning to hold her in my heart while, at the same time, holding my well-being there as well. It teaches me that there isn’t a right way to heal while navigating through our recovery.

    At the time of this writing, my mom and I haven’t spoken in seven months. As I am preparing to come home for Christmas, I am planning to reach out to her to meet and talk face-to-face.

    Although I have no idea how the conversation will go, I know that whatever will be true for me at that moment, whether to reconnect or keep things as they are, I will obey what my soul tells me.

    Because listening to what we truly feel and then honoring it, regardless of what it looks like on the outside, is the only thing that heals us and sets us free.

  • How I Healed from Addiction One New Belief at a Time

    How I Healed from Addiction One New Belief at a Time

    “Recovery is all about using our power to change our beliefs that are based on faulty data.” ~Kevin McCormick

    I struggled with what I would consider a disconnect with myself from a very young age. I was born a free spirit, curious and interested in so many things. I was also very shy and sensitive. I was not the type to be put in a box or expected to conform to the norm. That just wasn’t me. I needed to be accepted and supported for who I was.

    Instead, my well-meaning parents attempted to “domesticate” me, especially my father. I experienced severe mental abuse by him and was told repeatedly that I was no good, that I would never amount to anything, and that I was stupid, as well as many other negative statements. Due to his behavior, I rebelled in every way.

    Unfortunately, I believed everything he said to me, and I struggled for many years with feeling that I was not good enough and not worthy of anything good. I honestly thought something was wrong with me. I tried to be and do what was expected, but it was not who I was. Quite frankly, I did not know who I was.

    At age fifteen, I discovered drugs and alcohol. Using substances helped me get out of myself, my pain, and numb all my feelings and check out. I had created beliefs about myself that simply were not true, and I continued to live from the faulty belief that I was not good enough.

    Well, that didn’t work out well for me, as you can imagine. It seemed to be a great solution at first, or so I thought because I didn’t have to feel, but things continued to spiral out of control.

    I chose men that didn’t always treat me well, and I didn’t excel to my potential because I did not believe I deserved anything good or that I was good enough or smart enough to do anything great with my life.

    I had to work very hard to overcome my addiction and then heal my life as well. It took a lot of work with therapy and life coaching to help me heal and accept myself for who I am. I had to work on getting to know my “real” self and to learn how to like and then love myself, which meant working on changing beliefs that were stored in my subconscious mind without my realizing it.

    Someone once asked me why I was abusing drugs and alcohol, and I told him that I didn’t like who I thought I was, which was true, but my thoughts and beliefs about myself were not true.

    As I progressed in the work I did on myself and through my studies, I learned that my thoughts and beliefs were not set in stone, and they were most likely someone else’s beliefs, things I’d heard as a child and identified as my own. When I realized that I could decide for myself what thoughts I wished to think and, therefore, what beliefs I chose to live by—that I could make my own rules—well, that was an eye-opener and a game changer.

    I stopped using drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes. I went back to school to expand my knowledge, to obtain a degree to become a drug and alcohol counselor, and to focus on understanding the root causes of addiction. The drugs and alcohol were simply a way to avoid getting to the deeper issues and healing my whole self.

    Today, I can honestly say that I have a healthy relationship with myself. Was this an easy journey for me? No, it took work and perseverance. I worked with a counselor who was in recovery, I attended AA meetings, and I worked through the twelve steps of the program, which I continue to use today. I then discovered life coaching and hired a coach, which was how I learned to examine and identify my beliefs about myself.

    At first, I was afraid to look at myself and my life. I was afraid I would not like what I found inside. But once I began to see things unfold and learned that my thoughts and feelings stemmed from my faulty belief system, which I developed at a very young age, it helped me put things into perspective.

    I began to enjoy the journey of learning who I am and have continued to learn and grow every day. I became curious and began to identify and create my own belief system. I learned to pay attention to what I was thinking and feeling.

    Today, I have tools that support me on my journey, such as gratitude, focusing on my goals, identifying fear-based thoughts, understanding my triggers, connecting with my higher self, practicing self-love and self-care, journaling, and living in the present moment. I’ve learned to appreciate each day and have the utmost gratitude for all that I’ve been through because my life experiences have brought me to where I am today.

    I continue to study every day, as there are still so many things to learn. After all, we are all here on this earth to learn, experience life, and grow.

    If you too are battling with addiction, practice self-awareness around your struggles so you can get to the root of your issues. I like the quote, “Life is happening for us, not to us.”

    When you can look at a situation objectively and with curiosity, you are much more equipped to make good, healthy decisions instead of harshly judging yourself. This is how we heal—by empathizing with ourselves and all we’ve been through and supporting ourselves every step of the way.

  • How I Ditched Alcohol (Again) and Lost 30 Pounds

    How I Ditched Alcohol (Again) and Lost 30 Pounds

    “Setbacks are simply reminders.” ~Alison Schuh Hawsey

    The nightly wine was back. This time with a vengeance.

    It began in late October, when I was happily organizing the bathroom of my new home. The phone rang, and everything changed. My beloved friend/soulmate/ex-boyfriend/twin flame was in the hospital. Three days later, he passed over the veil.

    This was also the day I began completely giving up on any continuation of clean eating, drinking, and living. That evening, I downed three dirty martinis on an empty stomach after a long spell of not drinking. Throwing up in my driveway was a new low. Soon after, my dear friend Kristen helped me to bed.

    For the next several months, a ritual evolved. I would pop into the grocery store around 5 p.m. to buy one—just one—bottle of wine. I had no interest in the 10% savings on a case because I clung to the hope that tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, I would be strong enough to manage the emotional pain without wine.

    Alcohol for me was a choice. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I was someone who abused it when my emotions were too much, or to celebrate, or to alleviate my social anxiety, or simply when I was bored.

    More than a year went by.

    About fifteen months later, my father, days before passing over the veil himself, commented, “You need to cut your hair… and you drink too much.”

    Humbling, to say the least.

    Looking back, I was lost, depressed, and the heaviest I had ever been. I no longer fit into the “regular”-sized clothing and had to venture into the plus department. I hopped on the scale at my parents’ house, and the number was so shocking I couldn’t even cry. So I laughed.

    That was a turning point for me. I let go of the guilt and embarrassment when people did a double take after not seeing me for a while. I let go of the shame that erupted when friends and loved ones had heart-to-hearts with me about how worried they were.

    I knew the forty pounds, inflammation, achy joints, low energy, lack of productivity, anxiety, and depression were completely blocking my intuition, connection, and contentment.

    The most ironic part was that only three years earlier, I had created my own program to help other people drink less.

    Who was I? How had I lost track of myself? When would this cycle end?

    Then, of course, like any synchronicity, she popped in unexpectedly.

    By “she,” I am referring to Elegant Evelyn.

    My muse was born several years earlier, as I sat at my kitchen table with a notebook writing down the names of people I admired. As I listed their favorite qualities, I began to cry. Many of these people had passed over, yet I could feel them right there with me.

    I now understand that this deeply emotional and personal moment was the gift of a lifetime. The qualities in my notebook were also hibernating within me, ready to burst forth like the first flowers of spring. Just as rain births the first vibrant daffodils and fragrant hyacinths, my tears bring forth my muse.

    Just like magic, the name “Elegant Evelyn” sang through my ears and heart.

    The name came from my grandmother’s best friend, who was also my mother’s godmother. While I didn’t know her well, I admired her from afar.

    Evelyn was the closest thing to Coco Chanel in my small hometown. As she served scrumptious appetizers on silver platters at her parties, I would admire her chic way of dressing, the way she held herself, how she spoke, how she ate, how she made others feel comfortable, and, of course, her fabulous way of decorating.

    Years later, when she was ill, I had a vivid dream. Evelyn in capri pants, ballet slippers, striped boatneck top, floppy hat, and her signature red lipstick. Riding a bike with a baguette and bouquet of flowers in the basket. As she rode in front of me, she smiled, waved, and cheerfully said, “I’ll see you soon!”

    The next morning, I woke and shared the dream with my mom. She replied, “Meg, she passed over last night.”

    That dream and the inspiration she evoked within me stayed tucked away for years, just like a valuable and delicate gift waiting to be opened at the perfect time.

    When my life, body, work, home, intuition, and sense of spiritual connection were at their lowest, Elegant Evelyn came knocking, and thank goodness I answered.

    Channeling her, I was able to slowly turn the ship of my life in the right direction. It’s a never-ending journey, but the ship is no longer sinking.

    I owe everything to her, or, in essence, I owe everything to myself.

    There are parts within you that are begging to be unwrapped in your life. Perhaps you feel a sense of embarrassment thinking about being the person you daydream about being.

    Please believe me when I share that playing dress up as your muse is not pretending to be someone else. It is, in fact, coming home to yourself.

    How Does One Craft Their Muse?

    Imagination. Tap into your creative self and daydream like you did as a child. What would make your heart sing, and, most importantly, who must you become to allow the space for your heart to sing the song?

    How Does One Learn from Their Muse?

    Channeling. Once you have an image of your muse and a name, ask them to work through you. You can do this by asking them questions and journaling the answers, or by simply standing in your closet and connecting with them on what to wear. Walk into your kitchen and ask them what feels good to eat! Soon, you will begin to see that what feels restrictive is a “no” and what feels expansive is a “YES!”

    How Does One Become Their Muse? 

    Embodiment. This is basically looking at your vision board, Pinterest boards, or list of goals and then pulling the energy from them, absorbing it into your being, and becoming that person, that energy, that feeling right here, right now.

    For example, would Elegant Evelyn spend the day in sweatpants even if she is working from home? Absolutely not! Would she eat standing up at the counter? How absurd!! 🙂 Would she use profanity? How dare you even ask!

    Yet in my funk, I absolutely did all of these things!

    Let’s take a pause and let this sink in.

    The art of embodiment is a deeply personal experience. There’s no one else like you in this world. There never has been, and there never will be. So perhaps working from home in sweatpants is when you do your best work.

    Profanity? I have a friend who swears like a sailor and is one of the most successful leaders I know.

    The beauty is, when you embrace the parts and qualities within that feel expansive for you, life becomes an adventure. Not everyone resonates with Elegant Evelyn, and that’s a good thing! The results I’ve had embodying her, however, may inspire you to craft your own muse and make your vision board a reality.

    Transformation arrives when we choose what works for us. You are the guru of yourself. It’s really that simple.

    1. First, take stock of your mindset.

    How are you speaking to yourself? How are you speaking to the tender little child within? What would it take for you to radically shift this, and, most importantly, how would that feel?

    I realized I had abandoned my little girl. In response, she was begging to be healed and got my attention by taking over my life! Overdrinking, overeating, overreacting, and shaming and guilting me.

    It wasn’t until I embodied Elegant Evelyn as this little girl’s mother that things changed. In this role, I practiced loving discipline like, “Darling, let’s have some kombucha for dinner instead of wine. Sweetheart, it’s time for bed. Love, it’s time to wake up and get outside to play. Yes, you have to go to school!”

    2. Next, focus on your environment.

    I had Evelyn get to work on cleaning up the clutter of laundry and this and that around my apartment. The real Evelyn would never allow laundry to pile high like that, and she certainly would go through her mail in a timelier manner.

    Surroundings hold energy and play a huge part in raising your vibration. Cleaning, organizing, and maintaining your living space can be a sacred ritual that creates a foundation of love as you work through emotions and change. When in doubt, always opt for fresh sheets and fresh flowers!

    3. Lastly, get clear on the big changes you want to make.

    This was the tough part. Intuitively, I knew I needed to cleanse my body of processed foods and alcohol by replacing them with clean water and home-cooked meals of plant-based protein, veggies, and fruits.

    It’s difficult, however, when your body is on a rollercoaster of sugar highs and lows. The cravings were unbelievable. So I reached out for support from a friend and decided to do a parasite cleanse! I won’t get into the details, but I will tell you what kept me on track was the thought, “I will not let those little buggers win!”

    The cleanse required herbal supplements along with a way of eating I always dreamed of and, of course, no alcohol. The first three days were difficult, but after that, I was on a roll.

    Feeling back in sync with clean living can literally change your world for the better in so many ways.

    So now I ask you: Who do you want to be in this world? What gifts do you possess that your friends need? What is stopping you from becoming that person? What will it take to emerge from the shadows and into the light?

    If you struggle with igniting inspiration from the questions above, that is great! Because you have your divine team waiting with bated breath to assist you!

    Ask your muse, your guides, your higher self, spirit, God, or the Divine to work for you and through you. Allow yourself to quiet the noise of addictive patterns in your mind and body, and you may be surprised by the answers you receive. 

  • Why I Love My Sober Life: Everything I Gained When I Quit Drinking

    Why I Love My Sober Life: Everything I Gained When I Quit Drinking

    “Sobriety was the greatest gift I ever gave myself.” ~Rob Lowe

    I tried and failed to have a fabulous relationship with alcohol for many years.

    When my children were tiny, I drank far more than was good for me, thinking I was relaxing, unwinding, socializing, and having fun. I’d seen my life shrink down from a world with lots of freedom and vibrancy to a socially restricted void, and I wanted to feel normal. I wanted to join in with everyone else.

    All my birthday cards had bottles of gin or glasses of fizz on them, all the Friday afternoon memes on social media were about “wine o’clock,” and I wanted to be part of that world.

    The opening of a bottle in the evening had me thinking I was changing gear, moving from stressed to relaxed, and treating myself to some self-care. Nothing could have been further from the truth; the alcohol made me wake during the night and gave me low-level anxiety and an almost permanent brain fog.

    I’m not proud of the drinking I did when the kids were small. I now feel a deep sense of shame about that time. I’d created such a happy life for myself—lovely husband and kids, nice house in a great town, wonderful friends. What was I drinking to escape from?

    On the outside I looked like I had it all, but I didn’t—I had overwhelm.

    I was a wife and family member, a mum to two small children, an employee, and a freelancer… I had all the roles I’d longed for, and yet it was all too much.

    I didn’t know how to let go of some of my responsibilities, and I didn’t know how to cope with everything that was going on in my life. Alcohol felt like the treat I deserved. It took me a while to figure out that alcohol was the common theme in my rubbish decision-making, tiredness, and grumpiness.

    I’d spent a long time feeling trapped and stuck. I knew I wanted to stop drinking, but I was worried about what others would think of me, how I would feel at parties without a drink in my hand, and whether I’d be able to relax properly at the weekends.

    I kept going back and forth, deciding I’d stop, then changing my mind, thinking I wouldn’t or couldn’t. It was a hellish merry-go-round. When I was forty-one, I finally made the decision to quit alcohol for a year as a little life experiment. I wanted to see how I would feel without it for an extended period of time.

    I decided to take a bold action in autumn 2019. I told a group of online friends that I was not going to drink alcohol for the whole of 2020, and once I had said it out loud, I knew I would have to do it.

    This step toward accountability really helped me to move forward with my sober mission. I started to count down to 2020 (still binge drinking), wondering how this experiment was going to go!

    Toward the end of 2019, my mindset began to shift. Instead of dreading the start of 2020, I started to look forward to it. I made plans that I knew would lead to a successful sober year. I read books about quitting, listened to inspiring podcasts, and watched films or documentaries that didn’t show alcohol consumption in a glamorous light. I followed people who were a few steps ahead of me on their sober journey. I asked questions and I followed advice.

    I had my last drink on Dec 8th, 2019—nothing monumental, out with a few friends and no hangover the next day. It was a total non-event!

    I wanted to have a year without alcohol to know if life would be stressful, lonely, or boring like I’d led myself to believe, or if it was possible to relax, connect with others, and have fun without a drink. The hangovers and brain fog were getting worse. In my late thirties and early forties, I just couldn’t get away with it like I had in my twenties.

    I wanted to be a more patient parent—no more selfishly rushing the kids through bedtime because I wanted to get back downstairs to my drink.

    I wanted hangover-free weekends to enjoy my time away from work.

    I wanted to maximize my nutritional choices—no more rubbish food choices dictated by low-level hangovers, or high-level ones for that matter.

    I wanted to sleep deeply and wake up feeling rested and ready for the day ahead.

    I wanted to know I was giving myself the best chance at not getting high blood pressure, heart disease, liver disease, cancer, dementia, or a compromised immune system.

    I went through the whole of 2020 without a drink. There were some tough days to navigate, some challenging events to negotiate, and awkward conversations to have with friends, but I did it all, and I did it all sober.

    When 2021 rolled around, I knew I wasn’t going to go back to how I’d drunk before. I had changed my relationship with alcohol for the better. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually a different person, and I didn’t want to go back to numbing my feelings.

    It’s easy to name all the benefits to our bodies and minds when we cut alcohol out—deeper sleep, clearer skin, better mood, more energy, and less anxiety, to name a few—but for me, the real shift has come a couple of years down the line. I feel more spiritually open than I’ve ever felt before, and I cannot wait to see what unfolds next for all of those of us on this sober-curious journey.

  • 10 Reasons and Helpful Tips to Make It a Dry December

    10 Reasons and Helpful Tips to Make It a Dry December

    “The very best thing you can do for the whole world is to make the most of yourself.” ~Wallace Wattles

    In all my years of drinking, I never thought I’d hear myself suggesting a Dry December. Nor could I have predicted that the month I’d eventually decide to embrace my sober curiosity would be the holiday month.

    Before I decided to give an alcohol-free lifestyle a chance, I had completed many Dry Januarys, occasional Sober Octobers, and even one Dry July. (Dry July was the hardest for me because I really felt like I was alone in trying to embrace that one.) But now I see any month as a great choice to choose less alcohol and see the physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits in all their glory.

    Here is what really helped me in my very first Dry December and some pieces of advice that might help you too.

    1. I recognized that within my social calendar at the time, December was the booziest month of the year, and I decided that if I could successfully complete December without a drink, then all other months of the year would be easy in comparison. The same could be true for you.

    December meant several office parties, neighborhood drinks, dinner parties with friends, nights in bars and restaurants with other friends, and then the Christmas Eve, Day, and Boxing Day entertaining. There were a lot of places to be, a lot of socializing to do, and with that came an expectation (both external and internal) to drink.

    No wonder we are happy to talk about a Dry January—we’ve often had enough alcohol at that point! Aim to feel good about this holiday period without alcohol. You are not depriving yourself; you are doing yourself a huge favor.

    2. December could really work for you from a goal/intention setting point of view. Why not rethink New Year resolutions and have year-end resolutions? 

    What if we started the upcoming year clearheaded, more emotionally stable, physically feeling better, and with more cash in our pockets? That would be an amazing start. If we’ve already tucked a sober month under our belts by the time Dry January comes around, we are going to be feeling like we’re one step ahead already.

    3. You could use December to prepare yourself for the gentle wintering you might need.

    Imagine enjoying the holiday break feeling relaxed and restored. I know it sounds strange, but it is possible, I promise. Some of my most relaxing Christmases have happened since being sober.

    4. A Dry December could help you make the most of the season.

    In the northern hemisphere, winter is for hunkering down. It’s about cozy fires and warm blankets. It’s also the time for bracing walks in the fresh air. It’s a delight in color and texture. A break from drinking means no hangovers, which means you’re better able to enjoy the season.

    5. You can treat yourself with the money saved from not drinking.

    Get into a new habit of spending your alcohol money on what you might want or really need. Is it a monthly massage? Is it some delicious alcohol-free drinks? How about a personal trainer? What about a new book? Or a sober coach for support? You are worth every single penny. Spend it wisely.

    6. Discover alternative drinks to your usual holiday favorites.

    There is an array of wonderful non-alcoholic options available. Whether it’s experimenting with mocktails, alcohol-free beers or gins, infused waters, herbal teas, or flavorful juices, you’ll find alternatives that will still allow you to enjoy a long cold drink without the added toxins.

    Use your fancy glass, get the ice, and clink your glasses. The atmosphere, the people, and the conversation matter so much more than what is in your glass.

    7. Create new traditions and rituals.

    Replace your drinking Christmas traditions with new ones. Traditions come and go, they change at various points in our lives, and that’s a lovely thing to embrace.

    8. If you are finding December to be emotionally charged, seek out previously tested ways to soothe yourself and/or experiment with some new ways.

    Perhaps you could explore some new and different communities for support. This really helped me during my first Dry December.

    9. Use Dry December as an excuse, if you need one, for friends and family.

    Say you’re joining a revolution and reclaiming December as a month without excess alcohol as a fierce act of rebellion! You can say I’m taking a break because NOW is as good a time as any. Then gently roll into Dry January feeling altogether calmer, more peaceful, and empowered.

    10. Find and take note of all the positive glimmers as you go through the month.

    Use a journal or an app on your phone to keep a record. Does your brain fog lift a bit? Are you sleeping more deeply? Do you notice you have a few extra hours in your week? Do your eyes look a bit brighter? Where can you see the benefits? Use those pieces of great news to propel you further through the month.

    When Dry January rolls around you’ll feel like an expert, and your friends and family may even ask you for advice and tips. Enjoy the ripple effect!

  • 181 Days Teetotal (And Counting): All I’ve Gained Since I Stopped Drinking

    181 Days Teetotal (And Counting): All I’ve Gained Since I Stopped Drinking

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post references an account of sexual assault and may be triggering to some. 

    “When you quit drinking you stop waiting.” ~Caroline Knapp, Drinking: A Love Story

    I’m now at 181 days teetotal. I prefer teetotal to sober. I say sober sometimes, but teetotal feels lighter, airier, and I feel lighter and airier these days.

    For the life of me, I can’t remember when I took my first sip of alcohol. It probably came from a grownup’s glass.

    What I can remember is being sixteen or so, half waking up from a blackout with a friend’s hand down my pants.

    Or being eighteen, head in a toilet, while a guy I didn’t know followed me into the bathroom to “help me hold my hair back”—and instead helped himself to my body as I cried for help from a girlfriend who eventually came to my rescue, kitchen knife in hand, and forced him to leave.

    Or many a morning waking up with a blinding headache, ashamed of what I might have said, done, or was afraid I let happen the night before.

    I can remember that exposed, unsafe feeling, and thinking to myself, “Never again.”

    I can also remember (and well) the little voice that come late afternoon would say, “A drink will make this better.”

    And it did. And then (surprise!) it didn’t.

    Although this article isn’t about sexual assault, I want to mention that this has happened to me sober as well, and to acknowledge that a person letting their guard down doesn’t amount to an opportunity given. Seizing vulnerability and framing it as invitation is predatory, period.

    With that said, my adventures in drinking after I turned twenty-five tended to be less extreme. I became more careful about where I drank and who I drank with. Par for the course were physical and emotional hangovers, and those I learned to deal with. The tradeoff was worth it to me. Everyone drinks. It’s what we do when we get together! It’s fun and it’s fine, and you can always apologize the day after if things get out of hand, and maybe no one will remember anyways.

    And if you drink alone… well, that’s okay too! No need to apologize for anything.

    But something happened around three or four years ago. Friends I’d enthusiastically drank with, or who I knew cracked a bottle open to unwind at the end of the day, decided to go dry. Hand on my heart, I was happy for them, but hand on my heart… not for me.

    Booze, namely a glass (and then another, and then another) of very cold rose on a warm evening outside, or if I was feeling creative, was at the pinnacle of my pleasure pyramid. I loved chatting and drinking, playing music and drinking, writing and drinking, dancing and drinking, anything good and drinking, really.

    Give that up? I don’t think so.

    Last summer, I packed up my life of twenty years living in Brooklyn and moved, alone, to a hill near Florence, Italy. Don’t be fooled by the cliche of a thirty-something straight, white woman moving to Tuscany, though. It’s been a heavy and wild couple of years, and life on this cypress-peppered hilltop’s often been more Werner Herzog than Nancy Meyers.

    This chapter of my life, hugely marked by the choice to estrange from my mother and navigate the grief that’s come with that—not to mention in isolation, in what used to be a convent in the backwoods of a country I know no one in—has been, in one word, rough.

    They make wine here; did you know that?

    Really good wine. Really good, cheap wine too. The weather and setting are also great, so that pleasure pyramid pinnacle I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it beckons all the time, and being that I’m alone a lot and still know very few people, reaching for a bottle’s been a no-brainer and… a surefire ticket to the emotional rollercoaster from hell.

    On that morning 181 days ago, I woke up hungover with a body like a bucket filled to the brim with sadness, anxiety, fear, and nausea. Slosh, slosh, slosh. Nothing new.

    A few weeks earlier, one of my sober friends had come to see me, and what struck me most about her manner was that, far from being overwhelmed with emotion (which, as I understood, was one of the “costs” of sobriety: FEELING A LOT), she seemed so even kilter. So damn okay.

    It looked incredible.

    Around that time, it occurred to me the reason I’d made all these changes (the move, the estrangement, other things too) was to enter a new phase in my life. One that was more even kilter, more okay. I’d made all these moves, really hard ones, but I was still resorting to the coping mechanism I’d employed to tide me over in my previous life: Drinking. What throughout my twenties and into my thirties had been coupled with pleasure, relief and connection was actually keeping me stuck, sad and isolated.

    So there I was, in my front yard, actually weeping as the world spun, waiting for my dog to pee, when something welled up from inside me and said (and meant), “No more.”

    No more?

    No more, Melanie.

    And so it was, and here’s the most surprising but not surprising thing I’ve learned since.

    Empty calories, empty emotions.

    The hangovers and subsequent emotional manholes I’d have to crawl out of virtually weekly left me under the illusion of processing what felt like a bottomless well of despair. I was doing the work, right? That’s what it’s all about, feeling the discomfort. Feeling the trauma. Being in the hole. Grieving. Aching. Sticking with it. Right?

    Well…

    I’ve read that drinking doesn’t necessarily make you pack on weight, but your body burns the calories from alcohol first. So rather than using what you eat for fuel, when you give your body booze, it’s the booze it runs on and the real nourishment that gets stored.

    For me, it wasn’t just that way with the calories, but with the feelings too. Even a little alcohol (and it was rarely a little alcohol) created a synthetic emotional experience I had to overcome that took precedence over my very real emotional surplus and felt like labor. Like doing the work.

    But that wasn’t my real labor, my real pain, my real trauma, my real unmetabolized feelings. Turns out my real ones are of a completely different quality. Even when they’re hard, there’s an ease to them, a naturalness to them. Even when they’re heavy, they’re lighter. There’s a purity to them, a pulling up rather than down. An unburdening that registers fully, a clearing like the sky after a downpour. The relief of a healthy morning poo rather than being covered in shit.

    The work of healing has not only been a constant in my life; I made it my job. Oh, the humbling irony in realizing a good 70% of the emotional hellscape I was trying to overcome, not to mention my lack of clarity, energy, and zeal, was pure ethanol.

    Alas, all the positive feelings I’d tried to get through every avenue other than choosing water over wine have cropped up and grown robust in 181 days (that feel like 181 years considering how full they’ve been). Feelings like inner peace, inner safety, well-being, courage, honesty, efficiency, self-trust, joy, and resilience are finally setting in.

    Now we’re cooking with gas.

    In many ways, drinking became a way I kept myself from healing in the way I allegedly wanted to. A way to postpone the well-being I didn’t feel entitled to. A way to remain tethered to the drama I’d become so used to trying to overcome. A manifestation of my skepticism that what I was looking for might actually exist—in me, no less!

    I’m lucky. Every morning upon waking fresh as a button, especially on weekends or Mondays, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude at this inner leveling. Almost every day, I reach out or hear from my two teetotal close friends, and 99.9% of the time we don’t discuss how hard or boring life without alcohol is, but how much better, easier, brighter, richer, and solid we feel. How happy we are to have gotten out of that cul-de-sac.

    There’s a lot of shame and shaming stitched into the drinking dilemma, and I find it such a hindrance. For me, this hasn’t been a journey from shame to pride, and I’m completely convinced that had it been, it wouldn’t have stuck for more than a couple of weeks.

    Pride can be so brittle, so about the shame in the end, like the ‘after’ looking at the ‘before’ with a smug superiority. That doesn’t sit right with me.

    This has turned out to be tender, a pleasure, a streamlining of emotion, abundance, self-giving, taking, daring to receive, and giving from a full well. I sleep like a baby, say what I mean, mean what I say, know what I want, and know I have the energy to execute it. And as it happens, I have a personality that’s not bottle-of-wine adjacent, and I love her. 

    This isn’t a badge; how dead, how bland. This is a delight, alive and fluid and not for tomorrow—not to deserve something better now that I’ve quit that I didn’t deserve before, or to be better than people who haven’t quit. Hell no. This is my experiment, a treat from me to me.

    Have there been added bonuses? You bet. I’ve processed more trauma, melted more limiting beliefs, felt my nervous system unwind more, and even had bigger breakthroughs in my work in these past few virgin months than I did in decades before, and with far more ease.

    What changed for me that February morning wasn’t so much that I was done feeling those super low lows, but that for the first time in my adult life, I felt worthy of feeling myself. Just myself. And wow. Pretty cool.

    I won’t lie to you, sometimes around sunset, when the breeze is blowing and the crickets are singing and the company’s good or a favorite song comes on, I do think, “Dang, a cold glass of vino would make this even better.” But so far, the fresh mornings after, the healing that’s unfolded in this untampered space, and how much more present I feel for the sunset and the breeze and the crickets and the company and the song, has been kicking that thought’s ass.

    I’ve committed to a year of not touching the stuff, and I’m taking it a day at a time, but I don’t know, this is really good. It’s hard to imagine giving it up. Hah! Who’d have thought?

    Thank you for reading. Whatever relationship you have with alcohol, wherever you are with anything you’re struggling with, no judgment. Really, truly, no judgment. And to any person who’s experienced sexual assault, drunk or sober, you were never at fault.

  • How I Embraced Alcohol-Free Living: 4 Things That Made It Easier

    How I Embraced Alcohol-Free Living: 4 Things That Made It Easier

    “What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself.” ~Abraham Maslow

    A few years ago I decided to take a break from alcohol, and I also decided I would probably be lonely, miserable, and boring for the duration of my break.

    I’d allowed a lot of social conditioning to affect me, and I was sure people who didn’t drink either had no friends, had hit a drastic rock bottom, or had no fun. I didn’t know if I was going to find happiness or even contentment on the other side of my drinking career, and this worried me.

    I began to examine those thoughts and feelings around my drinking and brought my behaviors into a sharper focus. It led me to…

    Awareness (of my drinking habits)

    I look back and can now clearly see that I was, for a very long time, a gray area drinker.

    A gray area drinker is someone who falls into the bracket between never drinking and physical alcohol dependency.

    Society tends to view problematic drinking in black and white terms. “You’re an alcoholic and you need to be fixed, or you’re not an alcoholic and are therefore okay.” Well, I think it’s more nuanced than that. There’s a spectrum between the extremes of rock bottom and every now and again drinking, and it’s a long spectrum.

    A gray area drinker could be consuming a couple of glasses of wine each evening or could be someone who binge drinks on the weekend or someone who can abstain for a month at a time to prove they haven’t got a problem.

    I was capable of any of those behaviors, and, looking back, I fit the description of a gray area drinker very neatly. I wasn’t physically dependent on alcohol, but I might have been emotionally dependent. I used it to help me alter my state of mind into relaxation/fun on a regular basis.

    This can be a confusing place to be when you first start to see alcohol for what it is. I’d say, “But I’m not doing anyone any harm. I’m sinking a couple of glasses of wine on the sofa, and then I’m going to bed—what’s the problem with that?”

    In the past I moved along the gray scale; different ages, different friendship groups, different jobs, different circumstances, different seasons, and different living arrangements all led to different drinking patterns. Apart from the periods in my life where I was pregnant or breastfeeding, I didn’t ever choose to have a really extended time (more than thirty days) away from alcohol.

    Acceptance (that I wanted something different)

    I came to realize that the more I moved along the grayscale, the more or less colorful other areas of my life became. If my joy was a rainbow, the vibrancy of that rainbow either faded or shone brightly depending on how much I was drinking.

    I stopped myself from making a change around my drinking for a long time because I didn’t want anyone to define me as “having a problem.”

    The movies would have you believe that the end of your drinking career needs to be very dramatic, with a family intervention and a massive rock bottom, but this doesn’t need to be the case.

    What if you chose for your drinking days to end with a quiet fizzle out instead of a big firework or massive drama? That’s how it was for me.

    My gray area drinking changed shades of gray over a couple of years, and by the time I was ready to try my alcohol-free life experiment, I was moderating my drinking and never drinking more than two drinks at one time. However, the shades of gray no longer felt good, and I wanted a full-on technicolor rainbow, and I knew that to get one I had to do away with the other—so I did.

    Those gray clouds parted, and one by one all the other areas in my life that had, up until then, been a bit less than joyful started to shine a bit brighter.

    Action (taking steps toward what was next)

    Once I had made the decision to have a break from alcohol for one year, I took action steps to make it more likely to happen.

    I set myself up for success by choosing a time frame I wanted to work toward, educating myself on the harm alcohol does, downloading an app to help me to stay focused, looking for other inspiring people who were already doing what I wanted, and asking for support where I needed it.

    I had assumed that once I made the decision to have a break from drinking, it would be easy to execute, but I was surprised to find it wasn’t. I realize now that this is one of the reasons there are so many amazing sober communities out there—we need each other, and we want to look out for those who we can serve.

    I used to joke that the early days of sobriety constituted a full-time job because I got very focused on a morning routine that supported my needs, I read more than I ever have, I listened to podcasts, and I used distraction techniques in the early days. But actually it wasn’t a full-time job; it was simply learning a new way of being.

    Alignment (and a feeling of contentment or peace)

    Now that I don’t drink, I’ve had to face some truths. Some of them have been uncomfortable. Some have become less uncomfortable over time, and some, well, they are still uncomfortable.

    Deciding to have an alcohol-free year threw me into a bit of an identity crisis. I was mostly okay about changing my home drinking identity but really struggled with my social identity. Shared boozy experiences were a big part of my life and of who I was, or who I thought I was.

    I’ve ended up piecing together a bit of a new identity over time. I’ve reflected not only on who I had been but also on who I wanted to be in the future. I took time to explore what I enjoyed and also consciously began to move away from activities I had stopped enjoying.

    I also looked more closely at my relationships. Who did I want to see more of, and who did I need to move away from a bit? Some of the most surprising support came from the least expected places.

    I discovered that chaos had been a default position for so long that calmness was too unfamiliar. To start with, I had to move slowly toward the identity that I wanted. I’ve accepted that some friendships have changed and some have stayed the same. I’ve also made new friends since becoming sober and a business owner.

    Who am I sober? I’m just someone who chooses not to drink alcohol. I want that to be the least interesting thing about me.

    Who am I sober? I am an improved version of myself, more relaxed, more peaceful, more patient, kinder, and more content. These were not words I would have used to describe myself when I was drinking. Internal chaos reigned.

    Who am I sober? Well, probably the most surprising thing for me is to find myself working as a coach. I spent twelve years as a youth worker, and a large portion of my time was spent talking to young people about their substance use without ever considering my own. When I had gotten sober and completed my coach trainings and certifications, I couldn’t believe what I had achieved. None of this seemed possible a short time ago.

    I recognize now that a large part of the “woohoo, let me lead the charge to the pub/bar/dance floor” part of my personality looked like an extrovert but was indeed an introvert using alcohol as a coping mechanism in situations where I didn’t feel comfortable.

    I’m really happy to lay claim to my more introvert nature now—let me have all the fun, but please can it be in pairs or small groups, please can it be in the morning or afternoon, and please can I go home and have a lie-down afterward? Thank you!

    If you’re struggling to visualize/think about who the sober version of you might be, then follow good role models to get ideas—read books, listen to podcasts, and take action. If you’re thinking of taking someone’s advice, consider if they are currently where you might like to be. Have they been in a similar place to you now, and have you seen them act with care and kindness toward others they are helping?

    Sobriety hasn’t been a ‘one and done’ experience for me; it’s been a process over the last few years, and I’m so grateful to acknowledge that I’m still a work in progress, as I believe we all are.

    Bring awareness, acceptance, action, and alignment into focus as you go, and it might just make things a little bit easier for you.

  • Beyond Dry January: 5 Benefits of Extending Your Break from Alcohol

    Beyond Dry January: 5 Benefits of Extending Your Break from Alcohol

    “Define success on your own terms, achieve it by your own rules, and build a life you’re proud to live.” ~Anne Sweeney

    So many people make the positive choice to have a sober start to the year in January, whether it’s a New Year’s resolution, a detox, another wellness goal, or part of a fresh start program, but perhaps it’s worth considering prolonging the benefits further into the year ahead.

    A break from alcohol is always a good thing, whether it’s a few days, a week, a month, or longer, and the bigger the break, the more you get a chance to reconsider whether alcohol is helping you to achieve your plans, intentions, or goals in life.

    There are many benefits of extending your sober break beyond thirty days.

    You’ll get more (and better quality) sleep, which will lead to you having more energy, both emotionally and physically.

    As you get into better sleep habits and patterns, with extended periods of REM sleep, you will likely find your mood improving, and you may also find that you have more time for hobbies or projects that you want to focus on. I used to enjoy reading but could never find the time to do it; now I have time in the evenings to read, and time in the early mornings before the rest of my household wakes.

    You’ll find it easier to stay focused on your other health and wellness goals.

    You will find it easier to get hydrated and eat in line with your nutrition plans when you’re not side-lined by a morning carb fest or caffeine overload. I no longer need to drink sugar-laden drinks to give me energy, and I find that I’m much more mindful about what my body needs during an average day to fuel it efficiently, while enjoying what I eat and drink.

    You might have more diverse, fun experiences with friends.

    You can plan and enjoy lots of alcohol-free activities together throughout the spring. I’ve found that some of my newer friendships are not based upon drinking activities at all. We walk, we go for brunches, coffees, movies, and day trips to new places. All social activities I wouldn’t have thought about instigating when I was still drinking.

    You’ll see progress across all areas of your life by spring or early summer.

    The habits that you formed through the first quarter of the year will really start to pay off by the time the days are longer. You will have found new and different ways to relax, to have fun, and to process your emotions, which can positively impact your work and relationships, and you will be so glad that you did.

    You may be inspired to develop a list of things you want to enjoy through the year now that you have the time, energy, and money.

    There may be simple pleasures such as watching the sunrise, hiking, baking, or creating, or more ambitious plans to execute. Perhaps you’ll discover a new hobby or direction that fills you with pride and purpose.

    Alcohol feeds your short-term rewards system (it gives you a dopamine hit) but ultimately acts as a depressant. Your brain wants immediate gratification for the least amount of effort, and alcohol can provide this, but I urge you to find some balance or a more sustainable way of living.

    I spent a considerable amount of time drinking very little alcohol before I decided to have an alcohol-free year as a little life experiment to see how I got on, and cutting down my alcohol consumption was a brilliant introduction to a sober lifestyle. I found new ways to spend my time that I never would have considered before and rekindled old hobbies.

    I now get an amazing sense of satisfaction from achieving my medium and long-term goals—these are the rewards I work toward.

    Achieving my intentions helps me develop and maintain the habits I want to keep. I work toward the long-term goals by ticking off the short term ones, which gives me immediate gratification while helping me develop my purpose on this planet. Alcohol made me act on impulse; now I act on carefully made plans, good intentions, and bold dreams.

    A sober month is a good thing at any time of the year, not just January, but please remember, we don’t have to stick to neat months or rules. We can choose whatever chunk of sober time we like to enhance our lives and find joy in the alcohol-free corners of our worlds whenever we want to.

    This year I’m choosing another year of sober living, and I cannot wait to see what I get to achieve by the end of it.

    How about you? If you started the year with a break from alcohol, can you consider extending your  intention into the spring or even into the year ahead?

  • How I Got Sober and What I Now Know About the Impacts of Alcohol

    How I Got Sober and What I Now Know About the Impacts of Alcohol

    “Sometimes deciding who you are is deciding who you’ll never be again.” ~Anonymous

    May 13th, 2011. I finally surrendered to the fact that I had a drinking problem and desperately needed help. The comments from acquaintances, the concern from friends, the complaints from my flatmates, the intensity of my depression, the conversations with my therapist—they all culminated in the decision that I had to break the chains from my liquid abuser.

    It was one of the hardest decisions of my life, one that entailed waving goodbye to the life that I had led before and diving into a new one where I didn’t have any points of reference and safety handles to grasp.

    At that time, the only option I thought was available to me was AA, so I emailed their helpline on that Friday at 2:43 p.m. Only an hour later I received a response from someone who seemed to care and understood my turmoil and despair, who took the time to share some of her own story, which I could relate to.

    I began going to meetings right away, and my friend Federica held my hand for the first two. I felt blessed to have her calming and loving presence next to me while I was full of fear and confusion. I will forever be grateful to her.

    Stopping

    I stopped drinking as soon as I joined AA. I started going to three meetings a week. I was aware that my levels of drinking were quite below the average threshold of most of the fellowship members, but I was advised to look at the similarities, not the differences, so I did.

    My quiver was now equipped with shimmering new arrows: I had the strength of my resolution, my meetings to go to, the opportunity to mix and match them when I wanted to, a whole community of people I could connect with, and, very quickly, a steady group of friends to go out with after our regular meetings and on weekends.

    I had found almost everything I was lacking and more in the space of a few weeks. I know that finding those people was what made it so easy for me to stay sober, because we enjoyed each other’s company and everything we did was not alcohol-related; also, I was never physically dependent. I was an “emotionally dependent” drinker.

    What I didn’t know then was that this bubble I had created was a very fragile one because it lacked my personal foundations of sobriety.

    Nine months after I quit drinking, on a dating website, I met the man that would become my beloved life companion and husband. I made space for him in my bubble, and he opened up to me the portal to his life.

    I became part of an outside world that I had not interacted with and had unintentionally kept at distance since I had quit drinking. I started to feel like the odd one out, and I began to resent everyone else who “could” drink.

    I could recognize other people who were problem drinkers but had not made the same decision as me, and I felt it was unfair that they got away with it, that they were the ones considered normal, and that I was the one with the problem.

    I was a ball of anger that was seeping out toward everyone, but I didn’t know how to process it. I had also started a job that was very demanding, and most of the time I was out of my depth.

    Gradually, I convinced myself that I could revisit that decision I made on that day in May and that I was ready to welcome alcohol back into my life, but in smaller and more reasonable doses.

    The day I decided to drink again was so uneventful that I don’t even remember it. I know it was almost two years after I had quit and that I had a small glass of wine. I didn’t even enjoy the feeling of being tipsy, and I took that as an assurance that alcohol would have never turned into my nemesis, but a presence that I could keep at bay and out of my life when I wanted to. I was proved wrong. Again.

    Breaking

    After approximately six months, those synaptic pathways had been retriggered. I was self-medicating my stress and depression caused by a job that I could not stomach, and the familiar shortcut was in a liquor store.

    What I later learned is that I didn’t start drinking again because I had a disease. I started for the same reason that I was able to ride a bike years after I last rode one.

    On one hand, I had learned through repetition that the quickest way to find relief from my problems was to drink alcohol, and that the pleasure I gained from it activated the reward circuit in my brain; this motivated me to repeat that behavior over and over again by reactivating the neuropathways that had already been established many years before.

    On the other hand, I had not built new, healthier ways to address those problems, I had not created new habits, and that’s why I was back standing in the alcohol aisle.

    I don’t know how I managed to drink heavily, still holding down that job successfully and completing a one-year life coaching training program. But I did both, and when I moved from London to a smaller town on the coast, I solemnly promised myself and my husband that my drinking would change.

    I had left the job I hated so much, and I was studying, searching for employment, and living in a town that I loved. I had no more excuses this time. But, instead of decreasing, my drinking increased because I didn’t have the constraints and responsibility of a job, and that freed up more time.

    My Way Out

    This time around, though, I knew I didn’t want to resort to AA because I felt that it wasn’t the right solution for me. I saw AA as a Band-Aid to stem the bleeding of my alcohol use, and if it were torn off, the wound would start bleeding again.

    AA also did not delve into the reasons I was making these poor decisions, nor did it prepare the future me for an alcohol-free life. I also was not comfortable with the idea of being in recovery and going to meetings forever; I wanted to be free.

    I didn’t know what my solution was going to look like, but I was open to trying other ways. I made a decision to stop and contacted a local organization. I got myself an appointment, had a brief assessment, and was invited to attend groups and activities there.

    I attended a women’s group a handful of times, but I felt in my bones that it wasn’t an environment where my sobriety would have thrived. But by contacting them, I had made the official step to accept and see my problem in full scale before my eyes, and, in my mind, I could not backtrack after that.

    The second step was to educate myself on what alcohol really was, and I dove into anything I could find—books, podcasts, courses, videos, and online communities—like a fish to water.

    I learned the impact alcohol has on our physical and mental health; the extent to which it interferes with the neurotransmitters in our brain and affects our central nervous system; how, as a consequence, it causes anxiety and depression; how it kills our confidence bit by bit under the mask of giving us “courage.”

    I understood that it’s a solution to a problem, and that the problem can be different for any one of us. And that some people decide to suppress their problem with alcohol, others with food, shopping, or other substances.

    I learned that alcohol is a toxin, a carcinogenic psychoactive drug, and a highly addictive substance, and that the reason we get emotionally addicted to it is because it taps on the reward system in the brain.

    I came to understand that the effect it had on me was the result of a chemical reaction, not a disease, and it is explained by science, and that it developed into a problem because it was the easiest shortcut I had to solve my issue.

    The third step was attending to my emotional recovery and looking at the problems that alcohol had solved for me. This, for me, was the key where freedom from alcohol truly lay.

    Setting my sobriety against something that was outside of me and being dependent on a structure to maintain it was one of the things that pushed me away from AA. So, for me, there was only one thing to do. Go back to the source, me, and understand where the pull of alcohol came from.

    A few months before I stopped drinking, as part of my endeavor to find a career that had purpose and meaning for me, I had completed the EFT (Emotional Freedom Techniques) certification. As part of my training, I had to carry out practice sessions with other certified colleagues.

    I met a lady who introduced me to the concept of being a “highly sensitive person” and realized that I was one too. I finally found the validation of my being “too emotional,” “too intense,” and “too sensitive,” epithets that had been used to describe me and that made me feel wrong.

    In my sessions with her, she helped me to uncover layer after layer of emotions, thoughts, and memories that were connected to my drinking and to the pain that I was trying to erase with it.

    We started with the most superficial ones, then reached the deeper and most ancient, which is the safest and recommended protocol to use EFT.

    The work I did by myself, with her, and with other colleagues along the way helped me to relieve my cravings when I had them and release the triggers that used to make me run to the liquor store like a brainless bullet. It also helped me recognize when I’d started to believe that alcohol turned me into the confident and self-assured person I struggled and strived to be.

    I experienced numerous shifts along the way. One of them is that I no longer resent people who drink. I can still recognize when someone has an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, but instead of feeling like they got away with it, my perception has changed. I feel like I am the lucky one who got away because alcohol has no place in my life, and there is not one tiny cell of me that would ever want to drink again.

    I know that there is nothing positive that alcohol can add to my life and that all I need is within me.

    I would like to show this to people who struggle with alcohol and tell them how wonderful, rich, rewarding, fun, and relaxing life is without it. And that their body has the capability to do all of the above without it, and that the fun, the excitement, or the relaxation they find in it is short-lived, but the consequences are not.

    But I know that we all have our own journeys, and it’s not my place to interfere with theirs.

    I already told the most important person I needed to tell, and that is my younger self.

    When I went to find her in my memories, I told her that she didn’t need alcohol to be the amazing and lovely girl that she was. I told her that I loved her with all my heart, and that she had all the resources she needed within her to find her way back to herself.

    She cried, then she smiled and thanked me for reminding her and for believing in her.

  • Addiction Is Messy, But These Things Help Me Stay Clean

    Addiction Is Messy, But These Things Help Me Stay Clean

    “Staying sober really was the most important thing in my life now and had given me direction when I thought I had none.” ~Bradley Cooper

    I remember that exact feeling of shame that washed over me when I was filling Yeti water bottles with 100 proof vodka instead of water. Then I chugged it, all while knowing it was the worst idea. Yet, I couldn’t stop.

    Addiction is messy.

    My social outings were with the wealthiest in the town, always with plenty of other alcoholics in my midst. I surrounded myself with people who drank like me because why on earth would I want to associate with someone who doesn’t drink? It looked like I was living the life when, in reality, I was dead inside.

    The truth is, sometimes your soul has to die before you decide to actually be alive. My soul died, but my body continued living, and I wore a shield, defending myself from people. I wanted them to see the person I was projecting; the person I wanted to be.  

    I wanted to be all of the things that I was showing them, but I was truly depressed, anxious, troubled, and lost.

    My addiction started with a boy. I was addicted to him, to love, to the idea of love, and eventually, to his drugs. He became my dealer, my controller, my manipulator, and my life.

    He introduced me to hard drugs, and I immediately latched on. He completely stripped me of any sort of normal life.

    But I would do anything for him. The occasional use turned into daily use.

    At the time, I was in college, and I was still managing to do well. However, he got a job offer in another city thousands of miles away. He said if I didn’t come with him, we were done.

    I went into a depression I had never known before. I remember sleeping for days in my parents’ basement. The thought of being apart from this boy completely broke me.

    So I moved with him. My messy addiction was getting worse.

    It wasn’t long before he found someone in our new city who knew a dealer. I got excited knowing there was something else to try, so I dove right in. These drugs led to complete destruction. 

    I was now failing school. Me, a straight-A honor student. My mom came out to visit for my twenty-first birthday. She could tell something was off, but I had been lying for so long.

    I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.

    I knew I was only in the relationship because he got me drugs. I was scared to leave because he was my first love, and I didn’t know anything else. My life was a mess.

    I dropped out of college, claiming an “emotional breakdown.” I didn’t have a job. I had no idea what I was doing with myself.

    I was completely lost.

    A few months after my birthday, I called my mom and told her I needed to come home. Of course, the next morning I regretted it, but it was too late. My parents were on their way to get me.

    My soul finally completely died because of the mess I was in.

    I broke up with the boy.

    I quit drugs cold turkey. Looking back, I have no idea how I did this; I don’t remember withdrawals or cravings. I was determined to start cleaning up my life, but addiction is messy, cunning, baffling, and powerful. So I replaced drugs with alcohol.

    I always drank to get drunk. I felt that I had missed out on college life, and I needed to make up for it. I had been controlled for too long; I was finally free.

    I did what I thought was normal for someone in her early twenties. I drank every day, starting at 5 p.m. That’s what adults do, right?

    I didn’t think I had a problem until I realized how much more alcohol I needed compared to my friends. Every time we went out, they were completely hammered, and I barely had a buzz. I started bringing my own shooters in my purse so that I could have extra on hand.

    I would pour vodka into mini shampoo bottles so that it wasn’t evident that it was alcohol. I’d buy 100 proof to get the job done quicker.

    I thought it was fun. It was my secret, and I liked hiding it. It was like a game.

    When people saw me drink three glasses of wine, they had no idea about the water bottles filled with vodka that I had chugged earlier. I’d gauge how much I was drinking by counting the number of gulps I took or by seeing how many shampoo bottles were empty.

    I hid how much I was drinking very well. I was a functioning alcoholic. I had a great husband, amazing friends, and a stable job. 

    In my mind, there was no way I was an alcoholic because I had all of these things.

    There were several incidents that should have been the end, but I was never ready. It took years of looking at myself in the mirror, thinking, Ellen, this has to stop. You can’t continue drinking like this. So, I would try drinking a different way.

    Only wine during the week.  Vodka on weekends. Svedka instead of 100 proof Smirnoff.

    Anything.

    The only thing that stayed consistent was that I never allowed anyone to see how much I was truly drinking. I knew it deep down in my dead soul that I would either die drinking or that I would have to admit out loud that I had a problem.

    The day finally came, the day I had been putting off for years because I was so scared. My last drink.

    I learned later that my last day drinking was one of my “yets.” The things that make you convince yourself that you are not an alcoholic. “I haven’t gotten a DUI… yet.” Or “I haven’t lost my job… yet.” Mine was “I’ve never brought alcohol into work… yet.”

    My last drink was really a continuation of several days of drinking. I had finished everything that was hidden in the closet by 6 a.m. before heading to work.

    I took my lunch break early (like 9:15 early) and drove to the first liquor store. It didn’t open until 10:00. I thought to myself “only an alcoholic would be caught waiting for a liquor store to open; I can’t do that.”

    So I went to another one nearby. Yes! It was open!

    I went in and got my usual. The cashier rang me up and said, “Why are you here so early today?” I was so embarrassed.

    Little did he know I needed this to calm my shakes, feel better, and make it through the morning.

    I had basically woken up still drunk and was just continuing the drunk in order to feel okay. I was completely wasted by lunch.

    I knew I would be fired if anyone noticed. I had to get out of the building.

    I called my husband. I knew he’d be upset, but I have the most supportive and compassionate husband. He picked me up from work.

    He was scared, confused, and completely sad. Why was I wasted at work on a Thursday by noon? On the drive home before passing out, I finally knew that something needed to change.

    I knew that I was the only person who could make that change. I didn’t want to live this way anymore.

    For me. The only way getting sober works is when you realize you have to do it for yourself.  No one else can do it for you.

    And that was it. I started my journey in recovery that day.

    My sober life is amazing. Yes, I still have regular life problems, but everything is so much more manageable without the haze. I can do things now that I never did before, and everything makes a little more sense.

    I’m back to being Ellen.

    I have amazing things in my life that keep me clean and sober. Addiction is messy, but we do recover. First and foremost, I have a strong program of recovery.

    It wasn’t until I went to a rehab center that I learned that people in this world could teach me how to live a sober life and develop healthy coping mechanisms. I know how to soothe myself without substances and how to navigate this world without numbing myself.

    I work a recovery program that includes meetings, steps, and constant interaction with like-minded people. I have mostly sober friends and have cultivated lifelong relationships that matter.

    Secondly, I was able to get pregnant and start a family once sober; I have twins! I believe that the Universe had all of this lined up for me. I could never have done any of these things in any different order.

    Finally, I have good relationships with loved ones and peers. I am not lying to them every day, hurting them, and treating them terribly. I know I am loved, and I am not alone.

    Everything is perfectly in place the way it is supposed to be according to my journey. And now I can actually see that clearly.

    Addiction is messy, but it made me who I am today. Without this mess, I would not have this life. Now that I am clean, my soul has been brought back to life.

  • 10 Easy Responses to Use When People Ask Why You Aren’t Drinking

    10 Easy Responses to Use When People Ask Why You Aren’t Drinking

    Embracing the holiday season can sometimes mean embracing alcohol with gusto… or not. Fortunately for those who choose the former, “Dry January” has caught on over the years and it’s a fantastic concept. Going through a refresh is a perfect way to rid the toxins and melt the bloat away.

    I’d like to throw out a radical idea, or should I say a radical self-care opportunity!

    How would your holidays feel without alcohol?

    You might gasp looking for a chair to sit down as you frantically wonder how on earth you would get through the parties, relatives, house guests, and cooking without the comfort of your old friend Chardonnay or Mr. P (Pinot Noir!)

    Before you race to the fridge confirming you have enough Prosecco from the stress of the idea I just offered up, please stay with me! I’d like you to try an exercise my community members often call their favorite strategy in tweaking their relationship with alcohol.

    Imagine it’s Christmas Eve. What if you decided not to drink?

    How would you feel going to bed knowing you wouldn’t be waking up at 2am for water and aspirin?

    Would it feel inspiring to know the next morning would be one where perhaps you might see the sunrise or get up before everyone else to read or bake cinnamon rolls as a surprise?

    How marvelous would it be not to feel hung over, exhausted, and impatient with your loved ones? What would it mean for them to experience you as truly calm and present in conversations?

    I often say four hours of no-alcohol-infused sleep is far better than ten hours of drunk sleep. Yes, you may be tired in the morning even if you don’t drink, but oh my goodness, how good it feels not to layer on the fogginess and headache!

    Now, let’s flash forward to New Year’s Eve. Envision that instead of popping open another bottle of champagne at midnight, you created a sacred ritual for yourself and loved ones. A beautiful and energetically calm meditation space with candles, wishes written out for the new year, tea, treats, and cozy blankets.

    As the clock strikes midnight your wishes for the 2022 are released to everyone and everything in the universe as you breathe with eyes closed and smiles wide.

    You might be sighing with a sense of pleasure looking at this vision.

    The voices in your head, however, may be slowly speaking up the concern of “But what will everyone think if I’m not drinking? Will they put me on the spot in front of others, and what will I say? Will the events be boring or worse yet, will I be boring? How will I handle the overwhelm and/or social anxiety without my ever-faithful wingman called alcohol?”

    When someone in my community complains about certain friends or family being nosey about why they aren’t drinking, I smile and say, “it’s not about you… it’s about them.” It’s been my experience when people make the fact that you aren’t drinking “a thing,” it’s simply because something within them, consciously or subconsciously, is calling them to examine their own relationship with alcohol.

    I should know. Back when my drinking habit was a few glasses of wine every night in addition to a martini or two on the weekends, I was hyper aware of who was drinking, what they were drinking, and how many drinks they had had. It gave me anxiety when someone was still on their first glass of chardonnay while I had already gulped down a Manhattan and on to my second.

    When I decided to go on an extended break from alcohol during quarantine, it was easy peasy to sail through the weekends and happy hours pleasantly content in my nightgown with Netflix. It was not as simple, however, when the small outdoor picnic dinners with friends started that summer.

    I was thrown back into the “real world” for little bursts of time, and it was humbling. I experienced anxiety around the thought of people judging me, talking about me, wondering if I “had a problem,” and so on. I was worried life would be boring, or more importantly, that I would be boring.

    Little did I know the exact opposite would come to fruition. Life, and I, became more colorful, brighter, happier, calmer, and more present. Still, however, it helped to have a few scripts in my back pocket for when I was caught off guard with the out-of-the-blue question around my beverage of choice.

    Recently, I posted a list of responses for that awkward moment at a dinner party or event when someone says (oftentimes in front of others) “Why aren’t you drinking?” I thought my “Live More Drink Less” members would find them helpful for future use. Instead, I was happily surprised when the comments started rolling in about the responses they already use, which I must say are far better than the ones I created!

    The reality is, just because someone asks you a question does not mean you owe them a response. You do not need to explain anything you are doing for the well-being of your mind, body, and soul.

    However, if you are more into mocktails than mojitos and seriously dread the curious comments, here are some great comebacks that will end the discussion around your drinking, some that may bring a giggle to you and others in earshot.

    1. It makes me drowsy, and I don’t want to fall asleep in your arms right now.

    2. I’m driving.

    3. Alcohol is just not something I am attracted to at the moment because it wakes me up at 2am with a dry mouth and headache.

    4. I’m doing a self-care program and it includes the release of alcohol, and I don’t want a hangover stealing my joy tomorrow.

    5. It fuels my anxiety and steals my peace.

    6. I like to get up early to see the sunrise.

    7. It’s more fun for me to create alcohol-free memories.

    8. “Wine Face” is not my friend. (Otherwise known as dark circles under eyes, puffy face, bloodshot eyes, etc.)

    9. I make decisions for my Saturday nights based upon how I want to feel Sunday morning.

    10. Because… I… Am… Not… but thanks for asking, Nosey Posey 🙂

    If, at this moment, you are feeling inspired to do a hangover-free holiday, that’s your soul speaking to you. Are you ready to listen?

    Taking a break is not about taking anything away but instead putting so much more into your life. Even just a short break from alcohol can create a ripple effect of joy, success, and well-being throughout the year.

  • 10 Reasons Why I Ditched the Drink & What Happened When I Quit Alcohol

    10 Reasons Why I Ditched the Drink & What Happened When I Quit Alcohol

    “When I got sober, I thought giving up was saying goodbye to all the fun and all the sparkle, and it turned out to be just the opposite. That’s when the sparkle started for me.” ~Mary Karr

    Growing up I thought alcohol meant adulthood. As a child I eagerly watched the cacophony of advertisements, commercials, TV shows, and movies swirling, mixing, swigging, sipping, and smelling those delicious drinks that the beautiful and the sexy preferred.

    Alcohol was literally the forbidden fruit—a mystery and an abomination that not my parents, nor anyone in my family—really had anything to do with. I assumed this was due to my family’s lack of class or sophistication. Wine, beer, and spirits meant pairing with palates and inclusion in the upper reaches of society. It was beyond us, and it seemed foreign and fun. I couldn’t wait to try it.

    I remember my first full beer at around twelve or thirteen. I snuck away with my best friend Mimi to guzzle a couple of Coronas in the woods behind my house. It made my head spin and we giggled, but it left me feeling confused and dirty.

    Even as a teenager, alcohol failed to prove its glory. The glamour that I’d read about in Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Dorothy Parker’s Jazz Age novels never manifested in the desperate high school parties or back seat sessions I had available to me, so I gave it up, opting for other types of drugs like marijuana and LSD.

    Fill the Void

    I stayed busy striving academically during my years at university, so alcohol never played a starring role. I drank a few glasses of red wine on a Friday night when I cleaned my apartment and learned how to chug an Irish Car Bomb with my friends at our local pub, but it never disrupted my flow.

    It wasn’t until I graduated and started working in the “real” world that alcohol became my dearest friend. And looking back, I realize that I only get chummy with alcohol when I’m not feeling fulfilled or satisfied with life.

    I finished my degree in 2002, a year after September 11, 2001. The US economy was in a downward spiral, and I had serious doubts about my place in the world. It was hard enough being twenty-two, but twenty-two trying to find a decent-paying job with a BA in Historic Preservation was almost impossible. I landed a paying internship and then a part-time gig as an assistant archivist and filled in my extra hours working as a paralegal at my friend’s dad’s law firm.

    After a lifetime of school and four years of university, I couldn’t believe the adult life and the freedom I was promised consisted of desk work for eight hours a day that didn’t pay enough for me to move out of my parents’ house. The prestige and the career I assumed was waiting for me failed to be a possibility. My life was nothing but a rebooted version of monotony from my school age years, so I started drinking to escape it.

    I remember needing to go out during my early twenties—like needing it so bad. Staying home alone on a Friday night was akin to suicide. I had my weekend planned and sorted by Wednesday, my friends assembled, outfits purchased, and possible bars and clubs all picked out.

    I needed the release. I needed to ring out the chaos and the comfort and the elation those sixty hours away from work could bring me. I needed to dress up, go out, get as drunk and insane and wild as I possibly could to get all that balled up energy and anger out of me so I could stuff down my disappointment at life from Monday to Friday. Even when I worked a Saturday shift at a clothing boutique, I was either still drunk or hungover.

    I remember how being drunk made me feel. It made me feel alive, energetic, magnetic, magical, powerful, fun, charismatic, fearless, hilarious, untouchable, and sexy. Alcohol gave me what I could not seem to muster at all during the weekdays sober, but what I so desperately craved.

    Looking back, I see now that what alcohol gave me was an undiluted, raw version of myself. What was happening after two or three drinks was what should have been happening sober—I felt like myself.

    But years of child abuse and learning to people-please and put others first had forced my authentic self into the backroom. Alcohol was the only way I could feel like myself. But I didn’t know that then and I never stopped at three drinks. I stopped at stumbling, mumbling, passing out at 4am drunk.

    Alcohol was an escape from a life and a person I didn’t like, but nonetheless, both I had created.

    Finding Freedom

    At twenty-six, I did something radical. I cancelled my wedding to a lovely man and decided to leave the US and travel to Australia. After four years of steady alcoholism, I finally realized that the life I was living was a prison not a life.

    As soon as I made the decision to leave, I stopped drinking. I started working more and saving money. I had somewhere to go and someone to be. I wanted a future.

    By the time I was twenty-eight, I was married, in love, and pregnant with my first child. Happy and healthy, alcohol had no room in my life. It didn’t come to stay again until after my second child was born, and I realized my husband wasn’t happy. Then, alcohol settled in while I drank myself into ignorance as a mother, wife, homeowner, and business-owner who didn’t want to admit that she had again constructed a prison instead of a life.

    Alcohol kept me alive during my subsequent divorce. The pain was so severe that, looking back, I’m grateful I had something to numb it. But two years after my divorce I realized that I was thirty-eight and totally free.

    It was time to finally live the life I knew I wanted. I was old enough to know myself and know what I needed to feel creative, alive, and happy. So, on 1 April 2019, I made a list of all the things that were not actively contributing to my life. Alcohol was number one on that list.

    Now, two years after giving alcohol (and all other drugs and addictions) up, I can easily say that I am so much happier and healthier without alcohol in my life. I don’t miss it at all. In fact, I wish more people would jump on the sober bandwagon.

    If you think you might be keen to join me, consider these ten ways giving up alcohol changed my life for the better. I hope these reasons are enough to convince you to ditch the drink.

    1. I learned how to feel my emotions.

    Instead of numbing myself, I had to learn how to feel all the feels. This led to learning how to feel and clear emotions as well as deal with my childhood trauma head on. Healing my trauma was the best thing I ever did.

    When hiding my true self, I had invited alcohol into my life in an attempt to numb the pain I was carrying around in my body, but it also allowed me to be my authentic self without fear. Healing trauma allows you to present your true self to the world.

    2. I learned how to play.

    Not drinking alcohol leaves more space for you to be a kid again. Instead of sitting at the bar complaining about your problems, you are free to ride a bike, swim at the beach, splash in the pool, run, jump, explore, and learn because life becomes a wonderland again. Living alcohol-free just invites in more of those rare, beautiful, and innocent moments.

    3. I lost weight.

    Alcohol is pure sugar, people. There ain’t nothing good about it. Bad for your liver, bad for your insulin levels, and bad for your brain. Not one good thing. At forty, I am thinner than I was during my twenties when I was binging all weekend long.

    4. I balanced my hormones.

    As a female, I can attest to having very disrupted hormone levels. After quitting alcohol, my PMS symptoms drastically improved. Alcohol is sugar, which disrupts your insulin. Because it disrupts sleep, it also throws off your cortisol. Studies have also proven that increased alcohol intake increases your estrogen levels. If you want balanced hormones, say goodbye to alcohol.

    5. I slept better.

    Alcohol massively disrupts REM sleep. Take a few nights off from your evening wine and see how well you hit the sack. While we mistakenly believe alcohol relaxes us and eases stress, it actually has the opposite effect. Not getting proper deep sleep leaves you feeling worse and worse.

    6. I saved money.

    Alcohol is expensive, and when you’re drunk you want more and will stupidly spend it. Saving money creates the actual freedom you seek. Not going out to bars and sipping on fancy cocktails is one of the easiest ways to save money.

    7. I developed hobbies.

    Instead of using alcohol as a hobby, I started to play tennis, learned sailing, and started up a side hustle. As a result of not drinking, I’m much more interesting.

    Quitting alcohol sadly means losing a few friends. You’ll instantly notice which friends do have alcohol hobbies. But that’s okay. Having actual friends and real hobbies is much more rewarding.

    8. I’m happier.

    I’m not as stressed, tired, worried, or angry. Alcohol seems to take away the pain of life momentarily, but it comes back to bite you tenfold the next day. Alcohol is like a health and wellness credit card. You don’t have to pay now, but you will have to pay later, plus interest.

    Not needing alcohol to numb or feel comfortable in scary situations is such a relief. My mind is clear and calm, and that brings me immense pleasure and joy.

    9. I don’t need alcohol to talk to people.

    Instead of running straight for the wine at networking events, I just sip on water and make casual conversation. I am who I am. I also try to make sure that I ask interesting questions.

    No more “So what do you do?” I want to know who you are, what you’re about, and I dig around and see what interesting facts about you I can unearth. People become much more fascinating sober.

    10. I’m leading by example.

    My kids are witnessing firsthand that their mother does not need alcohol, so neither do they. I’m sure they remember when I drank, but I also want them to see me sober.

    While I don’t villainize alcohol and I know that they will most likely experiment with it, I want to be sure that they know that they can live a happy and fulfilling life without it.

    Bottom Line and Disclaimer

    I’m not advocating for the abolition of alcohol by any means. What I am advocating for is more responsible representations of alcohol in advertising, movies, and film. Being exposed to such blatant subconscious programming at a young age gave me the belief that alcohol would add something to my life that I felt it was missing.

    And while I know that I used alcohol as medication to treat my unhealed childhood trauma, I know that teaching kids why people use drugs and alcohol would be more effective. If someone told me during my teenage years that people abuse drugs and alcohol to cover up the pain they are in, that could have changed everything for me.

    I never sought out treatment from AA because I believed my consumption of alcohol was not irregular or excessive by society’s standards. Looking back, this greatly disturbs me. I needed help. What I really needed was to heal my trauma much sooner. It took many, many years to find the right help to heal.

    If you are consuming more than two glasses of alcohol on more than two subsequent nights per week, then you most likely have a problem.

    If you need alcohol or any drugs just to get by, then you have a problem.

    Drugs and alcohol are ways for us to cope with pain. The best advice I can offer you is to seek help for the underlying issue and heal the reason why you need to drink. I wish you all the best and know that you are more interesting, powerful, and fun sober.

  • He Broke My Heart But Taught Me These 5 Things About Love

    He Broke My Heart But Taught Me These 5 Things About Love

    “Sometimes the only closure you need is the understanding that you deserve better.” ~Trent Shelton 

    I’ll never forget the day we met.

    It was a classic San Francisco day. The sky was a perfect cerulean blue. The sun sparkled brightly.

    I ventured from my apartment in the Haight to Duboce Park to enjoy the Saturday. Dogs chased balls in the dog park. Friends congregated on the little hill. They giggled, listened to music, and ate picnic food. Kites flew high in the breeze. Adults tossed Frisbees in their t-shirts and bare feet.

    And I sat, bundled up in my scarf, zippered fall jacket, warm wool socks, and cable-knit sweater.

    This was summer in San Francisco. I had recently moved to the city at the end of May from the east coast with steamy eighty-degree weather, and now in July I sat on a hill and shivered. The famous saying fit perfectly, “The coldest winter I ever spent was the summer I spent in San Francisco.”

    I decided to venture to a nearby café, a French café called Café du Soleil (The Café of the Sun) and warm up with a hot beverage. I loved their outdoor seating.

    When I arrived, the café was packed. Every seat in the patio and the whole place was taken, except for one free stool at the bar next to a tall, handsome man.

    I sat down next to him with my hot chocolate and commented on how crowded the café was. He smiled and agreed, no longer interested in his salad or his glass of white wine. He was interested in me instead. His eyes sparkled.

    Fireworks!

    He was an artist, a photographer. He was a creative like me. Recently, he purchased his first house in Oakland, which included a lovely garden and was close to his work at a fine Japanese restaurant. Our conversation flowed easily, but from the moment I met him, I noticed a dark cloud over his head.

    “Are you married?” I asked.

    He jiggled his left fingers to show an empty hand.

    “No. No ring,” he said.

    “Kids?” I asked.

    “No,” he said, “but I would like some.”

    Our eyes locked. He sighed.

    “But… I’ll never have kids,” he said.

    I pressed my lips.

    “Oh, I think you’ll have kids one day,” I said in a lulling voice, looking sweetly into his eyes.

    He melted.  He really saw me. His eyes were full of adoration, love, and awe.

    We started dating immediately. It was fun and easy. He came to see me perform in Berkeley and I visited him in Oakland (in Fruitvale where he lived), where it was warmer and sunnier. He cooked me meals at his home with fresh fish and vegetables from his garden.

    Hummingbirds danced in the air when we were together. We drove to romantic rendezvous, danced, and he introduced me to the important people in his life: his best friend and his boss.

    The more time we spent together the sunnier and brighter he became, the happier we both were.

    Later, he admitted that he actually made most of his money selling drugs, followed by bartending, and that photography was only a hobby, not a profession. Also, he confessed that he had an alcohol and drug addiction. This was the reason his previous relationship ended even though they were both in love.

    I became sober before I moved to California. I overlooked the red flags because of our remarkable chemistry. Since I didn’t drink, he only drank one glass of wine with me at dinner and didn’t seem to want another. Because I didn’t do drugs, he never did drugs around me and he never talked about missing them.

    Everything was going perfectly, or so I thought. We never fought. Then Malik took his annual vacation to an event called Burning Man in Nevada while I stayed in San Francisco looking for a new apartment. Burning Man was very popular among the San Francisco locals and I was intrigued, but my sublet was up and I had to find a new place fast.

    Described as the “biggest party on earth” or “the only place where you can truly be yourself without judgment,” Burning Man was where people could party all day and night, dress up in outrageous costumes, see fantastic art and performances, and be completely uninhibited.

    When Malik returned from Burning Man, the storm cloud over his head reconvened above him and overshadowed him. He was jittery and paranoid. In fact, I didn’t recognize him; he became distorted and ugly. His eyes were glassy and darted back and forth like Gollum in The Hobbit. Hunched over, he tapped his fingers incessantly.

    “Everything happened too fast,” he blurted. “I told you, I don’t want to fall. I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t want to fall. I can’t sustain a relationship longer than two years. You want more than that. You should have kids. You’re getting older. You’d be a great mother. You need to have kids while you still can. You deserve that. You’re beautiful. There are plenty of handsome men in San Francisco. Why would you pick me? Pick one of them!”

    “Malik… we are having fun. I won’t let you fall. Let’s glide. Why are you talking about marriage and kids?”

    “You want more. I know it. I see it.”

    “We’ve never talked about the future.”

    “It’s not going to work. It’s over.”

    “Why are you breaking up with me? It makes no sense. Things were good before you left. We never fought. You were only gone a week. You mentioned having fun with a girl. Did you meet someone else?”

    His jaw hung open; his eyes bugged, and he took a large melodramatic step backward and gasped. He was shocked by my directness and accusation. But perhaps he was also stunned by my keen intuition.

    Sure enough, over the magical week, he met a beautiful redhead from Arizona, a single mother, who was interested in doing drugs with him in the desert, to escape her demons.

    They had so much fun together, isolated in a made-up city, laughing in the temptress of the sweltering heat. They experimented with Molly on the floor of his tent and “died together.”  Like Romeo and Juliet.

    I was devastated. Malik was no longer the person I thought he was. I had envisioned a life together. I had imagined traveling the world together.

    He told me he didn’t want me to text him any longer, and I didn’t. But the pain seared inside of me. and I held on for hope that he would see his faults and come back to me. How would he maintain a long-distance relationship with someone he did drugs with in the desert for a week? It made no sense. But that was how much he valued drugs over me.

    I never felt closure. I never felt that I was able to express all of my feelings. I wondered if I had been more vulnerable with him, if he knew how much I cared, if he would have had second thoughts and returned to me. He never came back. He never texted. It took me a long time to let him go. He was a big love for me.

    Looking back today (years later), I learned:

    1. Trust a soulmate connection.

    I felt it deep in my heart. I had met a soulmate. There was no denying it. Even though it didn’t work out, he opened my heart to love.

    2. See the red flags.

    I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I know that you can’t help anyone get over drug addiction. They have to want it for themselves.

    3. Don’t cling to love.

    Don’t cling in a relationship and don’t cling once it’s over for it to return. This was a hard lesson for me because when I love, I love hard.

    I have learned if you love someone and they cannot commit, do not hold on. If you love someone and they don’t want to be in a relationship with you, don’t think that in time, they will come to their senses and see how great you were and regret it and come back apologetically. People sometimes move on fast. Set them free. Holding on only hurts you. Allow yourself some peace too.

    4. Value honesty.

    A relationship without honesty is not a deep relationship. One shouldn’t have to drag it out of someone that they are dating someone else or that they have a drug addiction.

    5. Be with someone who has the same vision of the future.

    If you don’t have the same vision of the future, it’s not going to work. It shouldn’t be assumed that you know their wishes or that you have the same vision. It must be communicated.

    Meeting Malik opened my heart. Even though our time together was brief, it changed me forever. After overcoming the grief of losing a soulmate, it taught me not to settle, that I deserve better, and to trust that I will experience an even greater love next time.