Happy Sober October

On October 18th, (God willing and all that jazz), I’ll have six years of consecutive sobriety. Not a single drink, drug or alas, puff of weed (which was my true, true love—more on that later in the month).

I jokingly said the other day that “every month is #SoberOctober when you’re in recovery” and it’s true, but I applaud anyone who takes even just a month off substances and want to support these people in whatever way that I can.

When I used to do Dry January or Sober October it was really just a month detoxing before another 11 month bender. “Detox to retox” I always said. And I was on that hamster wheel for a long fucking time. Decades in fact.

I love the idea of Sober October because I get to see everyone supporting one another in this endeavor. Trust me. I know how hard it is to be sober when you love not being sober, even when you know it’s only for 31 days. 

It’s even harder when you quit and know there is no end date in site because in my case, there was no end date or time or amount when I started.

My drinking and drugging and using took me to some dark places. It robbed me of potential, and even more importantly, eroded my self-confidence. But probably the thing I regret the most is the amount of TIME--the only resource we have that’s truly precious—that I devoted to my addiction. The hours wasted sitting at a bar. The mornings I couldn’t get out of bed due to a wicked hangover. The all-nighters talking to strangers like they were my best friends. The years and decades that I lost to an alcoholic rut I couldn’t find my way out of and frankly, didn’t want to find my way out. 

Six years ago today, I was circling the drain and also, circling the Northeast like a whirling dervish, trying to find a flight home to L.A after a 2-month bender in my hometown. I was flying on my friend's pass (she's a flight attendant) and so for two weeks, I went from Philly to Jersey to Boston to New York and back to Philly, creating wreckage and waking up feeling pitiful, demoralized and suicidal.

I’d been in rehab at age 19 and in my heart, I knew that I couldn’t and didn’t want to drink or use normally. I wanted oblivion. I wanted escape. I wanted relief from my loud mind. I had tried to manage my drinking and weed use. It didn’t matter. I’m the human equivalent of a Pringles commercial. Once I pop, I can’t stop.

And I didn’t want to enter any kind of rehab or 12-step program. When I left my halfway house and sobriety at age 20, I’d decided I hated the 12-steps and told myself they were for brainwashed losers in a cult.  I didn’t even believe this—I just told myself that because I didn’t want to get sober.

So from the time I’d first been exposed to the 12-steps when I got sober at 19 to this last time at age 35, I’d tried literally every single way to control my use that I possibly could. Therapy. Shamans. Marijuana maintenance (where you only smoke weed and don’t drink or drug). Only drinking beer. Only drinking wine. Only drinking alone. Only drinking on the weekends. I became a yoga instructor. I got a job as a life coach to teens. 

Honestly. It's a miracle I made it back, didn't kill anyone or end up in a Sri Lankan jail.

I tried everything. Everything to avoid admitting I couldn’t control my use and that I needed help staying sober. Everything to avoid the truth that for me, abstinence is the only option because I’m incapable of managing my use and honestly, it’s hell even bothering to try. Everything to avoid facing the fact that I thought life wasn’t worth living if I couldn’t drink or smoke weed.

Can you imagine? Most normies, when faced with the truth that they can’t drink because it’s destroying their life or health are like, “Okay cool, I’ll stop.” 

Me? I spent the first two years of this recent sobriety in a suicidal depression feeling sorry for myself because I didn’t think life was worth living anymore now that I couldn’t drink or smoke weed. I’ll tell you one thing: those two years really showed me how deep my addiction was. If when faced with the fact that I couldn’t drink/use anymore made me want to die—it was pretty clear: I have a problem.

And I say “have” not “had” because I continue to have an a mind that wants to kill me for some reason. I’m not sure why. Maybe someday science will find the gene responsible for my self-destructive tendencies combined with an utter lack of self-discipline and self-control in this particular area of my life, and they’ll be able to flip it off like a switch.

But for now—I’m an addict/alcoholic. I always have been and I'm pretty sure, I always will be. If I have one ONE drink, cigarette, puff of weed etc and I’m off to the fuckin’ races. I’ve had a lot of magical thinking hippies (I was one of them) try to tell me that’s the case because that’s what I’m telling myself and nope. I told myself for years that I GOT THIS--even while I didn’t. 

I’ve also read every book I can get my hands on in relation to the science behind addiction and how it’s really loneliness and what we need is community and 12-step programs are bullshit and all the stuff but in my experience, although the tendency to isolate is part of it, just getting more friends is not the solution and usually these books and studies are done by people WHO DON’T WRESTLE WITH ALCOHOLISM.

Having a normie tell me I just need more friends and love and I’ll stop being such and addict is like telling someone with clinical depression they just need more gratitude to stop being so depressed. It doesn’t work that way.

Maybe it works for some people. That's great. My point is, addcition, sobriety and substance abuse are very complicated and we really shouldn't be shitting on whatever helps anyone out of this hell, whether it's 12-steps, God or science.

So, in honor of Sober October and my anniversary and the fact that the news cycle is insane and I’d rather focus on spirituality and sobriety and mental health and wellness—I’m gonna spend this month talking to people about addiction, sobriety and tell my own story. I'll be answering your questions you might have for me and offering whatever meager solutions and tools I might have cobbled together on this journey. They only work for me. They might work for you. They might not. In my experience addiction is complex and treatment only works on a case-by-case basis and it usually takes a combination of things. There is no blanket method that works for everyone. You have to find what works for you and in my experience, that is ever changing. 

So with that, happy Sober October to anyone in recovery and to anyone just going for a month—it’s not too late to join in, so jump on the wagon with us and let’s see what we uncover. 

Getting sober was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. It was also the best.