I am 82 days sober and today was the first time I did not cry when listening to She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles. This either means I’m getting better or the antidepressants are working — or both. But I know the wine made me cry the most. The cider made me sleep. And the gin fed my nightmares until I woke in pain with the bedroom tailspinning into morning. The hardest lesson has been to un-cherish this.
It has been frightening to pull the feeling away from the alcohol; because the overriding feeling when sober and medicated is numbness. It is lonely to feel empty in order to function; yet, even then, each day is still a struggle to function. I have learned how much I overindulge myself — in fear, in drink, in binging, in hurting, in feeling everything intensely. Sobriety has taught me how much I vie with normality.
A drink with dinner became three every night, more if it was the weekend. A moment of stress or being overwhelmed began a spiral. A nightmare slipped into daylight so I wouldn’t leave the house. And scratching became picking — became drawing blood in order to feel soothed. I have habits, depression and trauma to process and reprocess. I have to forgive myself.
I am 82 days sober and perhaps I am finally forgiving myself because She Used To Be Mine did not make me cry. I to-do list my days otherwise I do not eat, I do not get dressed or shower, I do not do the simplest things. Every day since day 1 of sobriety has been uphill. I’m exhausted. But I can be forgiving and on my way, I hope to find places to rest too.