There Is No End Point
I have recently accepted the reality that my sobriety has no endpoint. There is no final destination to reach. I will never leave all this pain and suffering behind me. I hope to continue reaching for a greater understanding—to learn more about myself and the world around me—but,
I don’t expect any more mind-blowing epiphanies or life-altering transformations. It took me this long to love and appreciate my whole self and I never want to lose that in some quest for self-improvement.
I keep circling back to my past pondering on sober dating. My recent breakup left me feeling like I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship after all. That I still had so much work to do and so much to improve upon before I could properly love someone. It was my greatest fear that my addiction would eventually drive someone away…that it would be too much for anyone to bear. And it did drive people away! But not in the way I thought.
I remember my brother getting sober for a few months after a scary hospital stay. During that recovery stint, I witnessed a side of him that had been hidden for years during his alcoholism. It was incredible to watch him gradually come back to himself: the color returned to his skin, his face lost the puffiness, his voice got louder and more self-assured, and he started playing piano again. I hold tightly to those three months I had with him.
But then he started dating again. He shared with me that the man didn’t know about my brother’s drinking history or the fact that he had recently been hospitalized because of it. Then my brother told me he had a single martini with him while they were out to dinner. This small action was the cataclysmic moment. There was no turning back.
I got to have my brother for three months and then the light disappeared forever from his eyes. I feel like I let him die long before his death because I didn’t know how to get through to him once he was drinking again. I was so mad that he was dating someone who didn’t know about his alcoholism and who probably wouldn’t have supported him had he known. I was mad my brother didn’t know he deserved better.
My heart broke believing something in me was inherently undesirable. I had been brave enough to identify my addictive behaviors but that meant I was somehow undeserving of love. That is what I said while she was pulling away from me and walking out the door, “Do I not deserve love because I am an addict?”
But I already knew the answer to that. Of course I deserve love. Even if that meant it wouldn’t come from that other person. All the love I gave her always belonged to me. And I loved her fucking hard. As I continue to let go of the dream I had with this person and who I thought I would be with her, I can’t help but feel cradled by this love and…thankful for the knowledge that I’ve been through much worse and still came out okay.
I never want to hide myself or get lost in another person. I don’t want to tell myself it’s okay to go to a bar for a few hours because someone thinks it’s fun while my body shudders from fear and anxiety.
But I am proud of myself for telling my ex I was an alcoholic and an addict on day 1. My boundaries were stated but I didn’t draw a hard enough line. I know better now. I will walk away the moment those boundaries are ever tested again. I know myself better now — I am not the sober-but-down-to-party girlfriend I thought I was.
I will continue to tell people I have a drinking problem. I won’t hide it like my brother felt he had to. I don’t feel ashamed of it most days. I am usually met with respect and curiosity, and I appreciate being able to share my experiences with people. More often than not, they relate.
My brother wasn’t alone in his addiction. I am not alone in mine. I recognize that it is a lifelong journey and I will be riding it’s peaks and valleys until my final breath.
That might just scare off some people who were never meant to be along for the full ride in the first place.