Thoughts On 13 Years Sober

13 years feels different.

It feels like I'm at home now in my sobriety. 

13 hits different because 13 is how old I was when I had my first real drink. I should have known then. That drink felt so good, too good.

Most people don't have good stories about their first drink or their first 'drunk' — I do. I never felt more alive or confident or more at peace within myself. And at 13, how could I have known better? If I needed a substance to feel most 'like me,' maybe that was my first sign something was off.

I never felt more at home in my skin than when I drank a little.

I also never thought I was a drunk because I still had my house, my husband, my children, and even a thriving-ish career. Naive judgemental me thought all people with addiction issues were toothless, homeless, and watchless. Well, we almost lost our home because of a gambling investment that dissolved our nest egg and retirement two years before I hit bottom. But I've always been a gambler. Who knew that was a sign of my dis-ease?

Hindsight's always 20-20.

Being sober is not about just not drinking, although, for me, that's part of my solution.

Being sober means I get to feel it all, embrace it all, and LIVE it all.

Thirteen years in sobriety and now making a living helping people heal from their own harmful human experiences has been the most significant gift and the biggest challenge of my life.

Drinking and pill-popping was easier, but it only worked for a time.

In his book Man's Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl wrote about finding purpose in our suffering as one of the ways to heal from our own suffering.

Since living Frankl's thesis for over a decade, I can attest that sometimes the only consolation prize from our suffering is to be of service to others in their suffering.

What I want to say to you, my friends, is:

Please don't give up on YOU.

Your story matters.

Your life matters.

YOU matter.

If you're medicating the dis-ease inside, stop judging yourself. That doesn't help. "Love covers a multitude of sins…"

No matter where you are or where the addicts in your life are today, know — you're not alone, and there's hope.

It’s not all on your shoulders to figure it out.

I have found that surrendering and letting go of the outcomes is the first step. And the hardest.

"Surrendering and letting go" felt like a foreign language I never learned before I took that step.

I remember repeating with a few expletives attached, "How?! How do I surrender and let go?!"

I guess the best way to sum it up is that it doesn't happen in an instant.

It's not just one prayer.

That's not something they tell you upfront.

And I don't know why.

That was the hidden magic in sobriety for me, the process of healing.

I kept wanting a magic pill.

Of course, I did!

I'm an addict.

But the good and bad news is there's no magic pill.

It's a one-day-at-a-time process. Not just an event.

Sometimes, I still wish addiction and this dis-ease wasn't an issue that I had to deal with. It's especially difficult when I see others suffering from the effects of addiction or other harmful coping skills.

But, the better, more healed part of me is grateful for the gift of my issues and all it's birthing in my life.

Addiction robbed me of so much.

And sobriety is the gift that keeps giving and returning it all to me, one day at a time.  

Hitting bottom was the "gift" I never wanted to open, yet it's become the best gift I could've imagined.

I'm so grateful for:  

My life

My Jesus

My family

My friends

My community near and far

And for any of you dear ones fighting the good fight, I stand with you. No judgment for your humanity and journey. Just love.

Whether your issues are attached to addiction or just another human struggle that most of us contend with, like trauma, grief, loss, betrayal, disappointment, shame, regret, self-hatred, etc... the list goes on and on.

The same issues that drove me to drink are driving me to heal now.

It's a beautiful exchange. And again, it's a process, not an event.

We all deserve a second shot, and I've been living mine one day at a time for 13 years. I still can't believe it sometimes.

They say, "Faith is believing in what we can't see."

But I have found that faith is also believing that what we can see is real.

Compassion is real.

Acceptance is real.

Community is real.

Hope is real.

Love is real.

You're real.

And I love YOU in all your humanness.

I'm so grateful for today.

Cheers to 4,749 consecutive, one-day-at-a-time days.

So much love and gratitude,

Dani