I'm grateful for warmth and comfort when it's frigid outside. I'm grateful for being shown how it's done from people with many more years of sobriety than myself. I'm grateful to be given the opportunity to qualify as it gives me the chance to dig more deeply into my past. I'm grateful for quiet, early mornings when it's peaceful and feels like I'm the only one awake. I'm grateful for letting go instead of obsessing. I'm grateful for the mental stability life affords in sobriety. I'm grateful for seeing others practice openness and vulnerability because it shows an introvert like me how it's done.
Maybe because my life is in a transitional phase I've been reflecting a fair amount about how I got to where I am. I'm from NYC, born in Queens. I moved out to SF for a while in my 20s where my drinking career truly took off, but then I returned after life became unmanageable. NYC in my 30s has been largely unpleasant. I'm turning 39 in a little over a week and so nearly rounding off a chaotic decade with a move to Colorado soon with partner and puppy in tow feels like a good time to take stock.
I entered my 30s living in SF with a lot of upheaval. I got out of my first long-term relationship where alcohol certainly contributed to the messy end. Travel-size shampoo bottles littered my pockets to ensure I could imbibe surreptitiously, especially in public situations where I couldn't take out the 1.5 liter vodka bottle nestled in my book bag. Making up fake tragic stories to friends about what's happening in my life ensured I'd elicit their sympathies rather than tell the truth about my drinking, which I myself didn't understand. How could I have a problem with alcohol when I had no language to define what that meant? I see pictures pop up in my Phone's timeline of me with beautiful California vistas behind, but my eyes are always droopy and my face clearly bloated.
In my mid-30s I continued to look increasingly hollow as I returned to NYC believing here I'll recalibrate. By this time I'd totally lost my outwardly successful career and was trying to start a business with some cousins. Nursing vodka in the mornings before hopping on the subway was the comfortable routine I needed to survive. Friends vanished left and right because the lies I made up about myself had finally caught up with me. My family had grown increasingly disgusted with my outlandish behavior. In the romance department I somehow recruited another victim who I was modestly into at best and strung that person along longer than I ever should have. I found no solutions anywhere except in vodka-assisted blackouts.
As my late 30s rolled around, I have been given the best glimmers of hope that I can attain a balanced life. I found AA, I found a sponsor, I am working the Steps. I found a healthy relationship. I found a home that isn't my old childhood room - first in Queens and now in Denver. I'm digging into how my mind works and trying to live a more honest life. I still have turmoil about my past, but I try actively to use those experiences to help others. With the gift of time it has been easier to think about what transpired and remind myself I was a very sick person and must show myself grace so I can stay in the light. Emotional sobriety is a daily goal. My spiritual practices and belief in a Higher Power are gradually molding into something stronger. I am starting to understand the importance of being kinder to myself and acknowledging that the mistakes I make even in sobriety are not the end of the world. I'm relearning how to engage socially without being inebriated - and actually enjoying the process. I'm surrounding myself with kind, funny, honest people who value living an informed life. All these realizations and milestones - plus more that I probably cannot yet grasp - are the culmination of what has been an arduous decade.
I don't know how successful I'll be in Colorado. Last time I made a move out West I was such a different person. A version of that person still exists inside me. Part of me misses that person a little - especially the intact hairline. Now though I am more mature and aware of what to do when life goes off the rails. I am hopeful that whatever happens I'll stay close to AA. I'll build a strong community of sober friends who'll teach me so much. I'll embrace my authentic self more and not be afraid to showcase it. Thank you life for not giving up on me even as I courted death more times than necessary. Thank you AA for giving me an opportunity to find myself again. Thank you Higher Power for the restart.