Day 2150 of Sobriety
Here’s what I’ve learned about social anxiety and alcohol use.
6 years ago, I was the kind of drinker who imbibed in several pre-event glasses of wine. In fact, I couldn’t imagine going out without it. And this from ages 18-36. I don’t math so I can’t tell you how many years that was. But it was more than a few. And I’d bet my firstborn fur baby I’m not the only one.
Modern day culture, and let’s face it, olden day culture, have led and bred us to believe alcohol and social gatherings are like peanut butter and jelly. Having one without the other will get you kicked off the cool kid table indefinitely.
If you dare to show up and refuse a drink, it creates an invisible tear in the social order, which threatens to bring the whole circus tent to the ground. If you separate booze from celebration, commiseration, holy communion, hatches, matches, or dispatches, there is something wrong with you, we are led to surmise. Either you have a “problem,” are an alcoholic, addict or any other of a number of debasing sticky labels, whose fixative aspects are slowly expiring. In any case, you are no longer a desirable entity of society. “You are the weakest link. You are dismissed,” cried out the poorly scripted game show hosts of the 90s from their particle board pulpits. It’s the same look inscribed on the faces of the ones we disappoint by not drinking with them at the bridal luncheon.
Standing up to the social norm should not be this hard. This kind of nonverbal shaming can be devastating to a sober curious sapling. A mom trying to find a supportive community to be a part of. Or a person who simply decides that drinking no longer serves their higher purpose. I believe it is the number one reason why people don’t choose this path. It’s like, if we want to belong, we don’t have a choice. Peanut butter goes with jelly. A jelly whose main ingredient happens to be the same one you pump into your car (ethanol). Thank you, kindly. But I am no longer willing to ingest rocket fuel in order to fit in.
It is our nature to want to belong. Encoded into our biology. You can no more shake this need than you can resist the urge to pee an hour after your second Big Gulp. Or resist the urge to run into the woods naked after an hour at LegoLand. We can’t resist the need to belong. But we can resist the desire to fit in with people who no longer behave like the people we want to be. The people we wish to become. We CAN RSVP “unable to attend” when we know the event will be triggering. Often, if we make the bold choice to quit or limit drinking, these invitations will slough off naturally. Like the popsicle left unattended in the summer sun. Until we are finally left with the stick at the center. The one with the silly joke or thing to remember. The solid thing. Which is us.
This is the hard way. There are some other, less abrupt ways to go about this, which I will outline for you now. Mantras, if you will. In case you’re not interested in standing on a street corner pushing a death to big alcohol sign in the air with the likes of myself.
For me, giving up alcohol was nothing more than a perspective shift that occurred as a result of data collection (I’m not a scientist, not yet; this is fancy speak for reading a book). Because of this experience, I believe in my bones, in the power of thought and it’s ability to shape our reality. So here’s the shift: set these in your phone as reminders to pop up at 4pm each day like I do.
Sobriety is an invitation to participate in life with all of your senses intact.
Sobriety is being fully present and awake inside each moment. Not missing a single thing.
Because you will wake up and remember everything the next day (excluding the names of new people). Including the genuine connections made. The juicy stories told. The uninhibited laughter shared. The smell of birthday cake. The way it felt when the ice cream melted on the tip of your tongue.
Sobriety is soulful reclamation.
Sobriety is you taking your power back.
Sobriety is reclaiming your connection to intuitive wisdom from a mind-numbing, body-snatching, soul-dowsing force. It is remembering that you have all the tools you need to make the best of the time you have left on this planet.
Remember: it’s completely natural to be nervous in social situations. This is simply a primal instinct unfolding to protect you from the unknown. Is this cheetah-looking thing safe? Do I feel comfortable enough to put my guard down yet? Are those fangs? Or just periodontal neglect? Being hypervigilant in new environments is not a weakness. It indicates evolutionary elegance at its best! Meeting new people is not always easy. And is undoubtedly harder for some than others. But somewhere along the way we got the idea that it’s supposed to be easy, or has to be. The truth is, it’s not supposed to be. But it DOES get easier the more you practice it!
Socializing sober, learning how to navigate and craft inclusive and engaging conversation is a skill. One that people might even appreciate MORE than the painting you did last week or your latest post on Instagram. However good. Who knows? Maybe you turn this new skill into your most enviable party trick. And when people see YOU doing it, they are more empowered to give this non-drinking thing a go themselves.
But at least initially, until the awkward kid dissolves back into the ether, the work here is:
Sitting in the discomfort of the unknown until your intuition kicks in and you know exactly what to do and can steel yourself to do it; until you can see how you fit into this new social order; until anxiety releases its chokehold.
Trust your instincts. You know what you need and when you need it.
Always drive your own car so you can get out and away quickly if you need to.
Mapping an escape route ahead of time is crucial, especially at the beginning. “I will leave if…”
I rarely ever ride carpool to parties. I’m sure outing myself like this ensures the ozone police are on their way to my apartment as we speak.
If you find yourself here, reading this today, maybe you let your mind wander into the unknown territory of having to find a new tribe. And maybe you find that the unknown, is exactly where you belong right now.
Writing Prompts:
1. Think back to a time when you were able to have fun without drinking. Maybe you have to think WAY back. What were some of the things you enjoyed doing as a kid? Building forts? Dancing? Making art? Playing with friends? When did that change for you? Can you remember the transition? Set a timer for 10 minutes and write.
2. Make a list of 5 things you enjoy that don't involve alcohol. After you write the list, look at it. Consider whether you could dedicate a few more minutes each week to doing 3 of these things. Even if it’s 10 minutes of playing guitar twice a week! Schedule the time into your calendar. And set a reminder so you don’t forget:)
I love your descriptions sooo much. Thank you for writing what so many of us feel and need to hear. ♥️