I’m not one to make a big fuss about holidays or birthdays, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t pause and reflect on a very important day for me … October 7 marked my 11-year sober birthday, or soberversary.
I usually post something about my soberversary each year and use a photo from my last night of drinking — October 6, 2012 — as a reminder to myself of how far I’ve come. How insecure and weak I was, even with friends. I still hope that someday they will understand that it was always about me, not them.
I won’t rehash the story. I won’t explain how, for years, I used alcohol as a crutch to cope with my anxiety and numb my PTSD pain. I won’t repeat how making the decision to speak out about it has cost me some friends. And I won’t apologize for my decisions, either. I’ll just share my post from 2021, the last time I wrote about it, so you can read it for yourself if you missed it the first time two years ago. It’s my truth, raw and real.
Interestingly, I didn’t write about my 10-year soberversary which should have been a bigger deal. I didn’t because, at the time, I didn’t have anything new to say.
Now I do.
The night of my son’s Homecoming dance was my 11-year soberversary. I didn’t even notice the significance of the date until, while at a parents’ HoCo party, I was talking to a guy who owns a distillery and I mentioned that I don’t drink anymore.
It was the ‘anymore’ part that got me.
These were mostly new friends, but I felt comfortable, sipping on sparkling water instead of wine. But at that moment, with this guy, I felt I needed to explain myself. Explain why I wasn’t drinking. Why I don’t drink at all anymore.
In that moment, I felt insecure. Not judged, exactly, but that I was different than everybody else. That I didn’t fit in. My social anxiety, which had been tampered all night until that very moment, came surging through and I felt like I needed to explain myself in order to belong.
For 11 years, I’ve owned my decision not to drink. Sure, for those first few years, it was awkward, always having to explain myself. But for the past three years, I haven’t felt that way. I don’t make excuses or apologize for not drinking. I’m a better person without alcohol and I know it. I feel it. But that night, for some reason, my insecurities got the better of me. For just that one moment. And I felt horrible.
Now I understand why.
Two days after that party, I saw a video clip of Brene Brown giving a lecture. In it, she said, “Fitting in is the opposite of belonging.” She then went on to explain how when you’re trying to fit in, you’re not being true to yourself so you can never really belong.
I swear the universe knew I needed to hear that message exactly when I did because that’s exactly what I used to do when I was drinking, and it’s what I was doing when I was explaining why I no longer drink. I was trying to fit in. To belong. I momentarily abandoned myself and forgot who I was: a person who (proudly) doesn’t drink and (confidently) doesn’t need to explain herself.
This was my reminder that while the urge to drink no longer exists for me, the urge to justify my choice still sometimes does, especially with new people. I’m still working on it. One day at a time, as they say. But I’m giving myself grace and taking the word ‘anymore’ out of my vocabulary because at 51, I don’t need to fit in to belong. I just need to be me.
— LJDT
P.S. To the people who say I’m no fun because I don’t drink, this is for you:
I also don’t drink. Never have and never will. It’s a choice I made initially simply because I don’t like the taste of most of it. The few cocktails I like I’ve decided are just not worth the calories. I’d rather eat my calories than drink them. I also don’t like putting mind altering substances into my bidy. I’ve never been drunk or high and I owe no one an explanation. Neither do you. 😉
Good for you! It IS a choice and for some reason, it’s the only illicit substance that if you don’t use it, you need to justify it. Crazy, isn’t it?!