Even though this blog began as a recording of days, I rarely talk about sobriety. Part of that is because while I’m abstaining from drinking, smoking and social media, but I’m still a fan of the green stuff. Another reason is, it just feels anticlimactic. When you’re immersed in booze life it’s easy to see how bad it is for you; the hangovers, coughing, sallow, aged skin, listless brain, lethargy, shit decisions. But once you have a week or two under your belt, you start to forget how terrible everything felt. That’s the dangerous part; when the roiling gut, pounding head, electric anxiety shooting through your blood, fades. When you can’t quite remember that heart clutching fear of what the fuck did I do/say last night?
I’m worlds away from the sphere I was in 6/30/2020 when I made the decision to quit. So many aspects of my internal landscape have changed as a side effect of being clearer. I have my friends to thank for a lot of it, ridiculously strong, powerful women who have taught me so much about myself and how I want to lead my life. I’ve done so much excavation into my own motivations and conditioning; I might not clean the house every weekend but I have spent the last 8 months exploring, inventorying and renovating my interior topography. I was always so afraid of just feeling things and delving into myself. I was terrified I was irreparably damaged, flawed and fucked up. It turns out my inner monologue wasn’t really my own, but an amalgamation of every dark critic; from my father to former partners to society’s preposterous ideas of what a woman should be. None of it was my voice. Figuring that out has been more freeing then any time I’ve ever jumped out of a plane.
I’m so eternally grateful for this ass backwards, tumultuous journey. I had no idea it was possible to feel so content within myself. I may not know where I’m headed, but the choice is solely up to me. I’m beholden to no one, for probably the first time in my life.