My Thoughts on Anonymity
Next month I will be coming up on 5 years of sobriety, and I find myself more and more inspired to write about why I stopped drinking. I have not been anonymous for a while about getting sober; however I have always been acutely aware of the stigma surrounding alcoholism and the unspoken rules of when and where this subject is an acceptable and appropriate topic for discussion. I also want to make clear that I respect other people's recovery and understand why it is never my place to share another person's journey or 'out' them to others.
Starting this blog a few years ago, created an outlet for me to share myself more openly with the world. In other forms of social media, I largely present a more curated image. My blog quickly became a space for me to write about the topics that I care most deeply about, and to share myself on a deeper level with others. I have shared about my recovery journey in bits and pieces but I have also been careful because of an awareness of the potential audiences that might be viewing my blog. This brings forth the concept of anonymity. If you were to ask me why I do not drink, I might answer differently depending on who you are and the environment that we are in. This blog is a sacred space for me; where I am choosing to be completely open and honest.
So here goes..
I am in recovery because I never had a healthy relationship with alcohol. I drank for the feeling, not the taste and once I started drinking I rarely knew when to stop. This resulted in multiple blackouts, a hospitalization, missed flights, lost personal items, unwanted relationships and reckless encounters. Ultimately, living a life where I learned how to not feel my feelings and instead numb them with alcohol. My drinking caused a lot of pain and fear to the people who loved me most, they worried about my well-being and what kind of danger I was putting myself in, but also the deeper issues and concerns about why I was putting so much effort and energy into such destructive behaviour.
Alcoholism wears many faces and looks different on every person it encounters. For the most part, my drinking was considered relatively "normal." I coveted my identity as a fun time, a party girl who enjoyed dancing, adventure and being the life of the party. Binge drinking was a learned behaviour in high school because as far as I knew, everyone was doing it. I never drank in isolation. I was not a daily drinker. I drank on the weekends with friends and colleagues, and for the most part I blended in with the crowd. But more often than not, I drank too much. I was the friend who would suddenly disappear from the party or bar, and wake up in a strange place with no recollection of how I got there. The friend who would come to the party and pass out early while everyone continued on with the festivities.
The reason that I got sober at 25 was because I felt so disconnected from the woman I was when I drank and I was so incredibly tired of carrying that shameful piece of my identity around with me. I was tired of hurting the people I cared about the most. I was tired of disappointing them. I was tired of having to pick up the pieces and apologize for losing control again and again. By 25, the part of my life that did not involve alcohol had become a fuller and truer depiction of who I really was. I developed a powerful desire to protect it. And I knew that the only way how was to stop drinking.
Stop drinking. I wish it was as easy as that. For me, getting sober was something that I could not do alone. I needed to be surrounded by other people who were dealing with the same struggles as me, who had come out the other side and knew an easier softer way. It is that community of people, whom I cherish deeply and will fervently protect the anonymity of. Stopping drinking alcohol, was just the beginning of my recovery journey. I had to learn how to surrender to the notion that I had no control over alcohol and that my coping mechanisms for dealing with life did not work. I had to learn how to feel my feelings, how to process my frustration, hurt and pain rather than try to escape it and act out instead.
I am so grateful for my sobriety, and for the community of people I have all over the world who know how hard it is to be sober in a world that glorifies and glamorizes alcohol and drinking. I am so grateful that I get to be with other people who are struggling too and connect with them in their struggle, supporting each other in navigating a way out. The relationships that I have made and mended in recovery are deeply special to me. At the end of the day, my sobriety is the gift that keeps on giving and the gift that I value above anything else. I hope that someday, I can speak openly about my sobriety to anyone without fear of it making them uncomfortable or thinking less of me because the irony in that is my sobriety is what makes me a better person.
If you are struggling in any way with alcohol addiction during this time of isolation. I hope you know that there is a way out, and I am happy to help you find it. Please feel free to reach out.
Starting this blog a few years ago, created an outlet for me to share myself more openly with the world. In other forms of social media, I largely present a more curated image. My blog quickly became a space for me to write about the topics that I care most deeply about, and to share myself on a deeper level with others. I have shared about my recovery journey in bits and pieces but I have also been careful because of an awareness of the potential audiences that might be viewing my blog. This brings forth the concept of anonymity. If you were to ask me why I do not drink, I might answer differently depending on who you are and the environment that we are in. This blog is a sacred space for me; where I am choosing to be completely open and honest.
So here goes..
I am in recovery because I never had a healthy relationship with alcohol. I drank for the feeling, not the taste and once I started drinking I rarely knew when to stop. This resulted in multiple blackouts, a hospitalization, missed flights, lost personal items, unwanted relationships and reckless encounters. Ultimately, living a life where I learned how to not feel my feelings and instead numb them with alcohol. My drinking caused a lot of pain and fear to the people who loved me most, they worried about my well-being and what kind of danger I was putting myself in, but also the deeper issues and concerns about why I was putting so much effort and energy into such destructive behaviour.
Alcoholism wears many faces and looks different on every person it encounters. For the most part, my drinking was considered relatively "normal." I coveted my identity as a fun time, a party girl who enjoyed dancing, adventure and being the life of the party. Binge drinking was a learned behaviour in high school because as far as I knew, everyone was doing it. I never drank in isolation. I was not a daily drinker. I drank on the weekends with friends and colleagues, and for the most part I blended in with the crowd. But more often than not, I drank too much. I was the friend who would suddenly disappear from the party or bar, and wake up in a strange place with no recollection of how I got there. The friend who would come to the party and pass out early while everyone continued on with the festivities.
The reason that I got sober at 25 was because I felt so disconnected from the woman I was when I drank and I was so incredibly tired of carrying that shameful piece of my identity around with me. I was tired of hurting the people I cared about the most. I was tired of disappointing them. I was tired of having to pick up the pieces and apologize for losing control again and again. By 25, the part of my life that did not involve alcohol had become a fuller and truer depiction of who I really was. I developed a powerful desire to protect it. And I knew that the only way how was to stop drinking.
Stop drinking. I wish it was as easy as that. For me, getting sober was something that I could not do alone. I needed to be surrounded by other people who were dealing with the same struggles as me, who had come out the other side and knew an easier softer way. It is that community of people, whom I cherish deeply and will fervently protect the anonymity of. Stopping drinking alcohol, was just the beginning of my recovery journey. I had to learn how to surrender to the notion that I had no control over alcohol and that my coping mechanisms for dealing with life did not work. I had to learn how to feel my feelings, how to process my frustration, hurt and pain rather than try to escape it and act out instead.
I am so grateful for my sobriety, and for the community of people I have all over the world who know how hard it is to be sober in a world that glorifies and glamorizes alcohol and drinking. I am so grateful that I get to be with other people who are struggling too and connect with them in their struggle, supporting each other in navigating a way out. The relationships that I have made and mended in recovery are deeply special to me. At the end of the day, my sobriety is the gift that keeps on giving and the gift that I value above anything else. I hope that someday, I can speak openly about my sobriety to anyone without fear of it making them uncomfortable or thinking less of me because the irony in that is my sobriety is what makes me a better person.
If you are struggling in any way with alcohol addiction during this time of isolation. I hope you know that there is a way out, and I am happy to help you find it. Please feel free to reach out.
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