Sobriety and Christmas

Stop Drinking

Dec 17

My last drinks were on Christmas, 2019. On December 26th, I’ll be sober for four years.

I don’t think about it a ton, but I do at this time of year. Perhaps it’s more present for me as I’m working at a bar on the weekends, and the level of piss-drunk, belligerence is at its highest… Perhaps.

It’s the whole “It’s the holidays! I’m on vacation! I don’t have to drive. I’m spending so much money! Parrrrtaaaaaay!” And then here I am, kicking people out. It was three last night, all at different times.

I’m used to the mass consumption here in New York during the holidays, and after a decade and a half of experiencing it, I will tell you that it doesn’t bring anyone any happiness. It feels sick after it’s over, like the emotion you have right after you cum from watching some nasty porn. You think to yourself “What… the fuck… did I… just watch?”

That’s this experience.

I had a wonderful guest in on Friday night who seemed genuinely interested in my sober story, so I thought I’d give it a rehash here, briefly, for anyone sober curious.

First, I had no intention to stop drinking.

I mentioned in my last email the story of “the airport,” and the incident that happened in January, 2018.

Often, I make the distinction between sobriety and recovery. My recovery started in January, 2018… but I didn’t stop drinking until nearly two years later.

I was your typical, stand-up, “I don’t have a problem,” “At least I’m not like those people” sort of drinker.

I was never late for work (I’m so punctual it’s ridiculous,) never lost a phone or a wallet, didn’t get assaulted, always managed to get myself home, and 99.9% of the time, into my pajamas and into bed.

I was “fine.”

And then, 2019 came. It was Christmas, and my ex-boyfriend (airport) was taking his ex-wife on a 10-day trip to Ireland. I thought I’d be mostly fine with this, as it was a gift for her because she nearly died that year. (Long story.) Except, apparently I wasn’t fine with it. That led to a day-long meltdown of crying and emoting and sloppy drunk feeling bad for myself on Christmas Eve.

Then came Christmas Day….

My father died a year prior, on Christmas Eve, 2018. Instead of dealing with the emotions of his death, I got on a plane to California and decided to take an almost two-week road trip from San Diego to Seattle. (It had been planned, and my Dad didn’t have a funeral.)

After the trip, I didn’t think much of my father… Not until that 2019 Christmas, when I would visit his house for the first time since his passing… The house I last saw him in while he lay dying, death rattle, eyes open, irises moving back and forth.

My stepmother during that visit took out a box of his watches. It was filled with ones I’d seen him wear through every “era” of his life. For some reason, that triggered an emotional tidal wave that didn’t stop.

I realized through those two meltdowns, back to back, that I didn’t have any healthy way to experience emotions. Instead of experiencing them, I “put them away,” and I didn’t fuck with feeling them… Until they became so big that I couldn’t force them down anymore, and they would erupt.

I basically ruined the holiday for my family, and my brother was not shy to tell me that. He didn’t use those words, but he did say that I have the right to my emotions, but I don’t consider how they affect others. …and I didn’t.

I was such a victim and things were so “hard for me” that I didn’t consider what a complete killjoy asshole I was to be around, all because I couldn’t get my shit together.

I decided I would give up alcohol until I “figured out how to have emotions in a healthy way.

Well, it’s almost four years later…

I never intended for sobriety to be permanent. I was going to “just do it until the end of the Whole Life Challenge” which I used to play four times a year. I had all of these “just until” dates in my mind… Until about three weeks in.

Three weeks into sobriety, I experienced a clarity and connection to myself that was nothing short of otherworldly. It felt like the “me” I had been missing, the superhuman unstoppable force that I was before all the shit got in the way.

I felt like the entire world was a gift, and I was so fortunate just to breathe air.

I remember January 2020, around that time of clarity, walking to a bar with Josh after we ran our usual Fred Lebow half in Central Park. (A cold January race which is always miserable but one of our favorites.)

I was telling him about the clarity, and he said “I think you’re done.”

“Noooo it’s just for now,” I said.

“No… I think you’re done.”

A few months later, people started dying of COVID…. And the first people to get sick in our city that *I knew* were people who worked in busy bars. I decided that there was no way I could risk going to a bar, and I wouldn’t poison myself during a global health crisis.

And… the rest… is history.

That was how the sober thing began. There’s more to it, which I’ll write about in the coming weeks if anyone is interested.

Sorry if this post feels less full than the others… I’m on a time crunch, off to go continue the charade for another night. Somehow I feel like a Robinhood when I go to this bar, taking this fat stack of cash and dumping it back into the world of helping people get the fuck away from the thing I’m selling.

Good karmic seeds, I guess.

Talk soon, and stay beautiful

Andee

As I wrote in my Substack post from 12/13:

I’m writing this to be of service but also to let you know that I help people with this thing for a living. I have a ton of knowledge and lived experience, and if you want to know what that looks like, go here, read, and fill out the form:

https://www.getthefuckoff.com/coaching

I’m not trying to create a false sense of urgency but I raise my rates every January 1 because… I get way better at what I do every year. And this year is no exception. So… if anything resonated… it’s just something to keep in mind. ❤️