Some break ups are worth it
Breaking up with a really bad boyfriend
I walked up to a podium this week in front of a roomful of people to receive my coin commemorating two years of continuous sobriety. I stood in front of the mike and told my fellow strugglers that a lot could happen in two years.
“I’ve pretty much changed my whole life,” I said. In 24 months, I’ve gotten a great job with health benefits, sold my house and moved out of the town I lived in for almost 30 years, reconnected with my mom – who I hadn’t talked to in almost six years – sent my last kid to college and wrote a book.
Before the meeting, I’d met up with my sister and a bunch of women who I’ve become friendly with and who goes to the same homegroup I joined when I moved this summer. One of the lovely things about sobriety, aside from waking up without the feeling of my brain being in the jaws of a t-rex of a hangover, is the camaraderie you find among other people who have also struggled with alcohol. No matter what your story is and how you got there, there’s an immediate connection with other women who are on the same path.
Unlike what I had imagined before I stopped drinking, there are all kinds of people in AA. When I began to speak at my celebration meeting, the first thing I told them was that two years can show you that you were wrong about a lot of things that you had been so completely sure of.
“Twenty-five months ago, I thought I was too good for you,” I told them, and there were some chuckles and nodding heads.
It was a few weeks after I stopped drinking in 2020 when I met another woman from my town, cute as can be in her little Lululemon getup and her hair pulled into a ponytail under a baseball cap, for a walk one November afternoon. I can’t even remember how we connected, I only knew that she had been sober for more than a year and I wanted to know more.
As we walked around the track, she casually mentioned that she went to AA meetings, and I leaned in and was like, “Tell me more.” So she did. Then at the end, she said that I could go with her some time to check it out, and then added, “Actually, I’m going to a meeting tonight if you want to come.”
I told that story from the podium this week to my home group, and they all laughed at that and someone said, “The soft sell!” and I nodded. But the rest is history. I went to that meeting in the basement of a church, that couldn’t have been more of the AA meeting you imagined – complete with men huddled outside the door in the freezing cold smoking cigarettes and a dark room filled with folding chairs. But even though that was not my favorite meeting, it was the real start of my sober journey.
A few months before I stopped drinking, I met with my therapist at that same park I’d connect with that sober mom from town, to walk around the dirt track and talk about my problems. It was July of Coronavirus times when we were all trying to avoid being in closed spaces together and the whole world spilled into the great outdoors, mobbing beaches and local parks.
My therapist had restarted our regular monthly sessions but instead of sitting on the cozy couch in her office where I’d had many revelations over our 14 years together, we met at a nearby park and walked its figure-eight loop for an hour and talked.
I’d arrived all faklempt about a letter I’d just gotten from the IRS and my youngest son’s mental health four months into the pandemic, and when I finished venting, my therapist asked me what was really going on.
“If anything,” I told her, “I should feel amazing that I haven’t had a drink in two days,” and I immediately regretted opening that door.
It was hot and we pulled over to sit down on a bench in the shade and my therapist asked what I was planning to do about not drinking. In the past, I always had grand plans to do a Dry January or take a break for a few weeks, to help reset my drinking habit. Once, I even made it to 90 days of no alcohol, which was great except my real goal had been 100 days. I buckled one night when my daughters came home and I heard them opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen. I thought, “I’m out,” and went in and joined them and woke up the next day not only hungover but brimming with remorse.
“Maybe drinking wine every night and numbing yourself isn’t doing you any favors,” my therapist suggested, and I looked at her with big Bambi eyes and asked her what I could possibly be numbing. She held up her hand and quickly ticked through her fingers, “No man in your life, bad finances, and lack of purpose, to start.”
“Oh,” I said.
Just then, a woman about a decade my senior power walked by decked out in full PPE – face mask covered with a clear plastic shield – with “We Are the Champions” blaring from her headphones.
My therapist suggested I consider exploring emotional sobriety and explained that that means that instead of pouring a glass of wine every night and sinking into the soft comfort of my IKEA couch to watch Netflix to quell my anxiety over where my life was heading – I let myself feel the discomfort of it all my prickly feelings.
FYI, people use all kinds of things to numb. Not just booze. That’s just my weapon of choice. You can eat too much, shop too much, and watch too much porn on your computer, for instance. All sorts of things people embrace to feel better. Or at least think that they feel better.
My therapist suggested I try going to 60 AA meetings in 60 days to explore emotional sobriety, and I sat on the bench and nodded my head but inside my head, I was like, “Absolutely not.”
I was still too good for AA and certainly not going to stop drinking FOREVER. That was nuts.
But four months later, I was reminded that I should never say never because anything can happen. You can suddenly get so sick and tired of being sick and tired, that one day you stop drinking and find yourself on a path of self-discovery and sobriety.
I finished my little monologue at the home group meeting comparing my two years of sobriety to a pair of boots. They’re really cute but when I first put them on, they were kind of tight. They pinched sometimes and once, gave me a big blister on my heel. But the more I wore them, the more comfortable they became and now, the boots feel like they’ve molded to my feet.
According to an app on my phone I used to monitor all the time in early sobriety, I have not had a drink in 751 days, and that is cuckoo considering how dedicated I was to booze. But it turns out, it was a super bad boyfriend. Like the kind that leaves you drunk and alone in a field and flirts openly with other women.
I’m glad I broke up with alcohol and get to live a life devoid now (mostly) of drama and chaos. Some might think that’s boring but to me, I’ve never felt more stable. The ground feels super solid under my feet.
I looked out over all the people in the room at home group. All the men and women who had to muster the courage to show up in a church basement somewhere and admit they had a problem. That’s one of the hardest things in the world to do but also, the most freeing. It feels so good not to carry the weight of all that around anymore. I'm so happy that the jig is up.
“I’m gonna keep coming,” I told my fellow AAs. I mean, why wouldn't I?
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SUNDAY SHARES: Read, watch, cook, buy
My friend Meghan (Miss Meg, to you) texted to tell me I needed to listen to a podcast called The Just Enough Family and I flew through it. It chronicles the rise and fall of the Steinberg family, who were cuckoo rich and spent money like it was their job. Former maternitywear designer Liz Lange helps tell the story of what it was like growing up in the uber-wealthy family and what it was like when it all came crashing down.
While you're at it, do yourself and follow Liz Lange on Instagram where she posts things like a goofy video clip from Three's Company and JFK Jr. with Caroly Bessette.
I bought these Old Navy joggers last weekend and think I wore them every day this week. Between them and my wide-legged Athleta pants I bought a while back, I think my winter work-from-home uniform is complete.
I'm away this week so won't be able to spend next Sunday with you. In the meantime, you can catch up on past issues and sign up to get in on the Sunday fun. I'll see you back here in two weeks!
xoAmy
Wow. Thanks for reading. Seriously, you're the best.
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