Trust God. Clean House. Help Others.

It's been four years of sobriety today. Therefore, the obvious has happened -  not one alcoholic drink consumed for 1,461 days  - no bubbly on my birthday, no red wine with my steak, no cocktails before dinner, no JD & Coke late at night when I probably should have should have stopped already.

I'm more consumed by the less obvious stuff today. The realization that I would have totally and utterly fallen apart had I not stopped drinking. That we do things or decide things in a moment (OK, let me try this not drinking thing) and they end up saving your life in some ways.

Prior to 2020, I would never have labeled myself an alcoholic. I'm not sure I would now. I'm fairly impulsive about a lot of habits, and I feel very "all or nothing" about a lot of things I enjoy. I grew up in England and the drinking culture and social nature of drinking means everyone I knew consumed way more than the doctor's recommended amount of units per week (I mean, have you even been to an English pub? It's delightful!) but I didn't know any alcoholics. (OK, maybe there was that one friend, but still...)

I read Matthew Perry's book last year. And it's heartbreaking. This good-looking, talented, funny dude is just totally consumed by his addiction. As fairly recently sober, I didn't read it thinking - oh gosh I'm so much better off than him, but rather thinking just how easy it sounded to descend into that kind of hell. Let's just say I'm glad I never got into drugs.

I don't think you have to be an alcoholic to startingly realize that you need to stop drinking. If you struggle with depression, it only makes it worse. Anxiety... the same. Eating disorders... the same. Insecurity... the same. Anger... the same.

By 2020, I really think I was done.  Exhausted and demoralized. Spiraling with negative thoughts and suicidal ideation. And because of this, everything felt harder. My spiritual growth had stagnated. My relationships suffered. Privately, I felt like a complete freak. Everyone else who "got" life and I just wasn't getting it at all. 

And the fact is, alcohol wasn't the actual problem, but it sure wasn't helping.

Absolutely, the temporary effects were good. It made me feel momentarily confident. Temporarily relaxed. I felt like after one drink I was my best self - a bit more funny, a bit more charming, a bit more flirty (I won't lie, for some time I did still miss the easy ways of tipsy sex - less self-conscious, more chilled) but I was also a bit more insecure, a bit more defensive, a bit more mean, a bit more inappropriate. Sometimes it's all good and ends in laughs but sometimes... the morning after I would lie in bed and just cringe. Why did you say that? Why did you pick that fight? Why did you let that person talk to you that way?

I don't miss any of that. 

But don't be fooled. Quitting alcohol, if you have been relying on it for confidence or security or using it as a crutch in any way, unmasks it all. The good, the bad and the ugly. It's not easy at all. 

I would say the years prior to quitting drinking were some of the loneliest years of my life. Some of the most confusing. I had not a clue who I was, what I wanted, what I believed in.

These four years since quitting? In many ways have also been the loneliest. So confusing. I'm still finding out who I am, what I want, and what I believe in. 

The difference is that I've been doing something about it for the last four years. Becoming sober gave me the space to uncover and work on the things I was concealing with my drinking. Deep insecurities. Legitimate and pressing stresses. I kept stuffing everything down - sometimes just with that innocent drink after the kids had gone to bed. "I earned it" I'd say... but then never give myself a chance to debrief from something really hard that had happened or situations where I felt lost and helpless.

I became complicit with my own pain every time I drank because it was my way of refusing to deal with stuff.

That stuff all comes up when you stop. That I was not expecting! During the honeymoon period (the first 6 months) I lost 30lbs without trying, felt amazing, on cloud nine. I could do anything! I'm on top of the world!

And then the real work began.

And I'm glad for it. I don't want to grow old carrying all of this stuff. But it is hard work. For some periods, it's been all I can focus on. 

I am hyper-aware that following Eliza's cardiac arrest last year, if I had still been drinking... well, I am not sure which way things would have gone. I already felt like I was drowning, and the trauma from that would have been almost unbearable had I been numbing with alcohol. I feel like stopping drinking has saved my life - not because my life was in danger, but because if your mental health is already suffering, if you're already facing pretty full-on hardships - alcohol is just going to compound them. I don't know how I would have coped with that.

I read a quote from the aforementioned Matthew Perry, and he said his mantra was "Trust God. Clean House. Help Others." I loved that. Such simple ideas. But so hard to execute - especially in trying times. It's even sadder knowing he's passed away - despite describing his encounter with God, how many people he helped become sober, and knowing full well what his addiction was costing him.

I got a very talented, creative artist on Instagram to make me the piece in the picture, and it hangs directly across my bed reminding me (goading me on bad days) to try for at least 1 out of 3 of these directives on any given day.

Keep giving it to God. Over and over. Trust that it's all for the greater good. I don't have to understand it, but I do have to keep trusting He has me through it all. I'm not alone.

Keep cleaning up my own shit - my environment, my friends, what I fill my head with. A messy house (literally or metaphorically) keeps me frozen in time... I can't see the next steps. Cleaning and editing makes space to move forward.

Keep trying to help others, even when - especially when - I feel like I can't even help myself. Just moving my focus over to something other than me else makes my struggles feel smaller. Like I'm part of a much bigger story. I like that idea.

When people say they're a work in progress I often sense a false modesty. They don't actually share what they are working on, or let me see the progress. Everything looks shiny and perfect on the outside. I just see what you want me to see. And you don't want me to see the real you. Because the real you is too messy! Too tired! Too overwhelmed! Too much!

But I am definitely a work in progress :) 1 day 'suddenly' becomes 1,461 days. I can't imagine what the next year will bring. All I know is it will be eyes and heart open, and I'm really and truly here for it. Not numbing anything. Feeling it all. Fumbling through some of it no doubt, but fully present. I don't want people to think it's "if I quit, it's fixed" because quitting is just the first step in fixing. And it's not all great, and not everything is resolved. But it's better than the alternative, right? Better to know you're drowning, so you can try a little paddling.

And a little trusting God. A little cleaning house. A little helping others. Day by day, little by little.

🤍