What I’ve Learned
I never thought I would quit drinking. I never thought I would have to. That was definitely for other people.
I could handle it. I was stronger and smarter than it. I was in control.
Of course I was wrong. Quitting drinking was exactly right for someone like me. Someone who thinks they’re in control. Someone who thinks they’re smart and strong. Quitting drinking is not for the weak. It’s really fucking hard and you have to really want it.
It’s been a year and a half now since I had my last drink.
At first, it was impossible, hardly worth trying. Then it was really hard. Then it was hard. And then it was annoying. And then it was inconvenient. And then suddenly it was normal. And now the idea of drinking feels so bizarre and alien to me.
But the feelings behind all of it; the feelings that never let me drink a glass or two of wine and stop, the feelings that made bottles two, three, and four all seem totally healthy. Those feelings? Those feelings are still there, but now those feelings work for me.
Why did I drink so much? Because I wanted to feel everything and when I drunk there was no barrier between me and my highs and my lows. There was no filter. I was a corked bottle of emotion and every night I could pour a glass and be the bright and beautiful red liquid, sloshing around, filling every corner of the cave, sliding without friction against the edges of the glass. That was the hard thing to give up. Crying for no reason and laughing for no reason and raging at the empty sky. Feeling all of it.
I am an addict. I am addicted to all of it.
Now I run. I run as fast and as far as I can until my shins hurt and I forget where I am and I forget who I am and I forget why I am running. I talk about everything I’m feeling to anyone who will listen and I listen and I ask questions and I care and I care and I hurt from caring and not being able to fix things but I don’t let it stop me from caring.
And when I love I do so unapologetically. I stare into eyes for hours and only break my gaze when there is no other option. I say what I feel and I mean it and the more terrifying the better. I bask in the fear of loss because it the strongest reminder of how deeply invested I am. When the terror creeps in I shudder and then I thank it. I want all of it and I want it always and I want all of it and I don’t care if I have to say it twice or a hundred times.
I haven’t gotten rid of that urge and that drive and that compulsion but I’ve learned to use it to fuel the things I want it to fuel. I don’t think I’ll ever not be an addict.
But the things I’m addicted to now?
I don’t want to lose any of those
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