Addiction

What was the tipping point? What was it that made the difference when you finally got sober for real, for good, once and for all? The Question was the reason I read and re-read all those damn memoirs, went to meetings, and even clicked through 90’s-era substance abuse forums late at night and early in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to locate the magic sticky glue. The key. The secret combination lock that would finally, once and for all, make sobriety stick. This is my best shot at answering.

Those things are true about me, they always have been, and they always will be. Even though I may not show up that way in my life anymore, it’s all still part of me. We are all a little bit of everything—light and dark—and even though we don’t always present certain aspects of our nature, we still contain them.

Can we at least question what we’re doing and promoting and putting on ads and down our throats—not only because our kids can see it—but also because we can? Can we pause for one second before we crack open the Rosé and think, Where am I going with this? Closer to life or further away? Why? Is this what it means to be alive? Is there some kind of connection to this—the wine, the food, the sex, the 500th Netflix show, whatever—and the disconnection we’re seeing in the world? Maybe?

I started to realize I could either keep joining and stay on the treadmill for a few hours of relief and “fun,” or I could push through the discomfort and keep my sobriety intact for another day. It's not that I stopped wanting the things I associated with drinking, I just wanted other things more.

I had to actively choose what I had for so long taken for granted because I was born with it. And I had to do so based on absolutely nothing but the promises of others who'd gone before me who promised a better way. I had to actively choose to believe in myself, despite all the evidence that I shouldn't. I had to believe there was something much bigger than my body, my mind, my very bruised heart, and that this thing wanted me to live, and live brightly. I had to practice believing because there was no other way to get out.

Go to the well of your disappointment and sorrow and rage, or even your great triumph. Go to the limits of everything and then let's meet back in the middle space, the one in the center of your chest, the one that's calling us to wake up and stay that way.

The truth is I’m in the middle place. I’ve pushed off the shore on writing this book, but mostly all I see is a mess of pages and words; I've got no feel for the shape yet, no sight of the shore.

The truth is I’m in the middle place. I’ve pushed off the shore on writing this book, but mostly all I see is a mess of pages and words; I've got no feel for the shape yet, no sight of the shore.