Sobriety Became Easy When I Eliminated The Need To Escape

It’s been just over 4 years since my last drink.

And what amazes me most is that I don’t miss it at all.

Which is something I find myself marveling at.

Not that I’ve managed sobriety, but that it’s been so easy after what felt like a lifetime of alcohol dependency and the identity I tied to it.

The first time I got drunk was in the sixth grade, and I was pretty much off to the races after that.

I wasn’t a casual consumer; I was a drinker.

I’ve blacked out more times than most people have probably been drunk, I’ve coughed up blood, and I’ve crashed my car more than once; thank god no one got hurt.

I’d watch as I’d raise an empty spoon to my mouth because my shaking hands disposed of all the cereal.

Drinking was my escape, and I loved it.

It was an escape from the skin I hated wearing; it was an escape from the life I said I wanted, yet needed to escape from.

It was a temporary reprieve from being me, and the fears, and the perfectionism, and the shame that flowed like a perpetual spring from my raging unworthiness and inadequacy.