5 things sobriety has brought me
I never thought sobriety would add anything to my life. In fact, I thought that a life without alcohol would be one devoid of colour and fun. Most of my twenties flew by in a haze of bottles of cheap pinot grigio, strong gin and tonics and pretty much whatever I could get my hands on. Alcohol felt like such a comforting presence, one that I had leant on and relied on since I was a teenager.
If anyone mentioned my drinking, or expressed concern or worry, I felt defensive and angry. I liked a drink, but didn’t everyone? I often drank until I passed out, or drank so much that I couldn’t remember conversations or arguments I’d had, but I knew I could stop if I needed to. In reality, I’d manage a couple of days, and then fall back into drinking every night. It was only when my GP asked me how much I drank, and I lied in my answer, did I think there might be a problem. Quitting alcohol became something I wanted to try, but often felt too daunting. What on earth would I do with myself without alcohol to anchor my days? Who would I be? What if, actually, I was a boring person without it?
One rainy October evening, I’d had enough of the constant low-level anxiety, the days spent in bed and the feeling of impending doom that hung over me like a cloud. It was like a switch went off in my head, and that was that. I stopped drinking. I try not to get too evangelical about sobriety, and all the beautiful ways that my life has changed since I stopped drinking. But, I have become a little like this since. It is as if the whole world opened up to me. I started to see joy and beauty everywhere, and whilst pain and heartache are occasionally still present, I feel better equipped to cope when they do come knocking.
Deeper friendships and relationships
Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, sobriety has made me treasure my friendships and relationships. Getting together with friends used to be centered around drink; what we were drinking, where we were drinking and how drunk we’d get. A handful of friends are sober now like me, but even for those who aren’t, when we are with each other, we listen to one another. I can remember things we’ve talked about, I remember their children’s birthdays; we talk about books and what we’re watching. We try to do something when we see each other: long walks, visits to art galleries and museums, exploring bookshops and cosy cafes.
More time
Something I kept saying once I’d been sober for a little while was that it now felt like I had so much more time. And it’s true: when you’re no longer filling your time with drinking or thinking about drinking, it becomes yours again. Evenings now often feel endless (in a good way!) and I’ve become obsessed with reading again, as well as writing and cooking. When I’m not working, I want my free time to be reflective of everything that I love and all the things that fill me up and make me feel grounded and joyful. I’m also more conscious of time and how important it is, I don’t want to waste it.
More joy!
When I drank alcohol, I associated it with happiness. If I couldn’t have a drink, what was the point? How else would I get through the day? Alcohol brought a temporary feeling of contentment, but this was only ever fleeting. What came next was always much worse: the tiredness, the sadness that would often leave me tearful and irrational.
Five years on, I am conscious of life’s joys like never before. A therapist once suggested I write a joy journal, with three joyful moments at the end of each day. I have notebooks filled with these, and often turn to them if I’ve had a harder day. Some favourites include: my little niece climbing into my lap for a story, my spaniel’s contented sigh as she falls asleep at the bottom of my bed, a surprise letter in the post from a friend, a piece of my mum’s banana bread, warm from the oven.
Better mental health
Sobriety has also impacted my mental health and wellbeing for the better. I knew alcohol was a depressant, but I never gave much attention to how it might have made things harder. I also have obsessive compulsive disorder, which means that I often experience bouts of severe anxiety. Although it still crops up every now and then, I’m much better equipped to cope. It doesn’t feel as hard and arduous as it once did.
Increased self-love and compassion
The last few years have also involved me piecing together the fact that I am neurodivergent. I now know that I used alcohol as a means of coping with the sharper edges of life that I found difficult. Letting go of alcohol has meant that I’ve had to come to terms with myself and the ways in which life is different for me. This has often been a difficult process, but ultimately one that I’m incredibly grateful for. At 33, and over five years sober, I’m at home in myself in a way I never have been before. I don’t feel as if I have to apologise for taking up space but, rather, feel proud to live life just as I am.
Written by Charlotte Duff
Charlotte is a writer living in the Surrey countryside. As well as writing about sobriety, she also writes about mental health and wellbeing, books, television and more. You can find her on instagram here.
