November 2024 – Bottomless to Sober

“How do you finally stop worrying? You realize that the version of yourself that will be able to handle every situation that might arise in your life will be born in the precise moment that situation comes to be. No matter where your path might take you, or where you go, the version of yourself that you will need in those moments will emerge right as you need it and not a second before. You cannot call upon all of the parts of yourself to exist at once. Different versions of you are needed for various aspects of your life. Find peace in knowing that you are more than one thing, and within the layers of who you are-both visible and invisible-exists a strength that is equal to or more powerful than anything you may come to face.”

– Brianna Wiest, The Pivot Year

Today marks four years of continuous sobriety—a milestone that feels both miraculous and grounding. At 34, I was so consumed by alcohol that I developed alcoholic liver disease, yet here I am, sober with a healthy liver. It’s a victory I honor deeply, but I also hold space for the truth: today is just another day in the lifelong journey of recovery. Sobriety isn’t a magical fix; it doesn’t shield us from life’s hardships. But it does offer clarity, resilience, and the capacity to face life as it is.

This clarity has been my anchor this past week as I navigate a heart-wrenching reality. My 85-year-old mother in Costa Rica fell and broke her hip, requiring surgery. Since then, complications have set in, and yesterday she was found unresponsive. At nearly nine months pregnant, I can’t travel to be by her side. I can’t hold her hand, speak to her, or comfort her. Instead, I sit here, folding tiny baby clothes and waiting for WhatsApp updates from my older sisters.

The uncertainty is crushing. Thoughts crash over me like relentless waves: Was our last conversation truly the last? Did I hug her for the final time when I said goodbye? Will she ever meet my daughter, Amara? The pain radiates through my spirit, raw and unyielding. But amidst the ache, I realize something profound—there is no pull to escape this grief through alcohol. It wouldn’t lessen the hurt, nor would it honor the love I carry for her.

Reflecting on my father’s death in 2018, I see how sobriety has transformed my ability to endure loss or the possibility of it. Back then, I traveled to Costa Rica in a drunken haze, narrowly sobering up for his funeral. I was riddled with shame—sneaking aguardiente to numb myself, only for my mother to find it the next morning. She looked at me with disappointment and hissed, “Why are you drinking so much? You’re going to end up like your cousin (who died from drinking).” Her words stung, but my addiction muted their weight.

Now, as I face my mother’s declining health, Brianna Wiest’s words resonate deeply: “The version of yourself that you will need in those moments will emerge right as you need it and not a second before.” Sobriety has given me the tools to face whatever comes next—not with fear or avoidance, but with grace. Whether my mother miraculously recovers (and I’m rooting for that) or these are her final days, I know I can stand in this truth without alcohol, even as it feels like an emotional roller coaster.

Just yesterday, my sisters walked into my mother’s hospital room to find a priest giving her last rites. Yet this morning, she was awake and alert, complaining about a headache and asking for coffee. This roller coaster of emotions, of hope and uncertainty, is exhausting, but I know I am ready to face whatever comes next.

As I move into my fifth year of sobriety, I carry with me self-trust and confidence. Life will continue to test me, but I now meet it with an open heart and steady resolve—because sobriety has shown me that I can.

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

Subscribe below to get these posts in your inbox in the future.

Recently, I overheard someone who clearly knew little about addiction say, “If you have a problem with alcohol, just stop drinking.”

If only it were that simple. People wouldn’t be revolving through treatment facilities, finding support in sobriety groups for years, and wrestling with the relentless pull of addiction if stopping was just a matter of will. This week, I had the chance to share a piece in a writing class led by author Marion Roach Smith, where I spoke candidly about how consuming and difficult it is to live with alcohol addiction.

Check it out below.

After five weeks in rehab, there I was, facing my dismissal day tomorrow. Deep down, there was that familiar, sinking feeling. I felt it every time I tried to convince myself I was heading back to “normal.” I tried to replay everyone’s kind words, but I couldn’t find any comfort in them. Reaching into my bra, I pulled out the sleep meds I’d stashed there, swallowed them quickly, and hoped sleep would take me away from the gnawing sense of impending doom.

The next morning, my friend who’d been looking after Cruz since I’d gone into treatment was there, waiting to take me home. I stepped into the sunlight, and we hugged tightly. It felt so good to be held by someone from the outside world again. We went straight to the grocery store, where the smell of cilantro in the produce aisle made my mouth water. I filled my basket with bright fruits and healthy snacks, determined to keep up the balanced eating habits I’d learned in treatment.

But the drive back to my house was a blur. Though I was sober, my mind felt foggy. My friend came in with me, did a quick sweep of the house to make sure there were no hidden bottles, then hugged me and asked, “Alright, girl, you gonna be good?” I hesitated, my mind spinning, but I forced a nod. “Yeah, it’ll be tough, but I’ll be good.” As I shut the door behind her, I turned and looked around my house, my supposed sanctuary. All I could see was emptiness, the painful echo of broken dreams.

So, it’s just you and me, I thought, staring at the silent rooms. Just me and this house full of ghosts. I went to turn on the TV, but it was dead—I’d fallen into it drunk one night, breaking the cables. I opened my laptop, but immediately shut it again at the sight of a picture of my late boyfriend, smiling and carefree. I moved around the house, from chair to couch, but everywhere I sat felt hollow.

Then, like the first drop of a storm, the thought of drinking slipped into my mind. It quickly spread, filling me with a fiendish desire I couldn’t shake. I knew I shouldn’t, knew it was dangerous. But the rationalizations came fast. I can order a bottle and just hold it, I don’t have to drink it, I told myself as I scrolled through the alcohol delivery app, adding a bottle to my cart. I can pour it down the drain after a few sips, I reasoned as I completed my purchase.

I reactivated my old routine of pretending everything was fine. I called my sister, my voice upbeat. “Hey! Just letting you know I’m finally home … Yeah, it’s definitely weird … I promise I’ll call if anything … Yeah, I’m going to bed early, I’m just so sleepy…” I texted a few friends, letting them know I was “good” and going to “bed.” It was only 7:30 PM. I was not going to bed.

The bottle was in my hands, then at my lips. The burn of alcohol slid down my throat, making me gag; I’d forgotten the sting. I drank straight from the bottle as if I’d stumbled upon water in a desert.

I had left the protective cocoon of treatment—a so-called fortress meant to shield me. I was supposed to emerge as a butterfly, ready to soar, but my wings were still crumpled. I crashed hard. Lying flat on the floor, “Nights in White Satin” by the Moody Blues played on repeat, each verse carving deeper into my soul:

Never reaching the end
Letters I’ve written
Never meaning to send…

I took one last breath, closed my eyes, and let myself slip back under, drowning once more in the dark waters of my addiction.

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

Subscribe below to get these posts in your inbox in the future.

Month: November 2024

Four Years Sober Today: Facing Possible Loss Without Escape

“If you have a problem with alcohol, just stop drinking.” Yeah. Okay.