The Tamesis
January 2016, ten years ago this week, was the last time I drank. Little did I know it would be my last drink at that time. “Never again” became part of my vocabulary as did “shall we go again?” (Rhetorical question). I didn’t really want to quit drinking and doing drugs, mostly because I didn’t think I could. Exhaustion, fainting, tears, falls, unexplained bruises, showing up at a stranger’s dinner table at dawn: it’s not just something I do—it’s who I am.
Until that wasn’t the case. That January, I finally hit my “rock bottom,” which didn’t look all that different from the hundreds of other rock bottoms that had come before it. However, something about this time shocked, scared, and clearly made me tired of action. With the help of some kind, generous, and patient people, I started over and began my journey to sobriety.
This is where the story usually stops telling. I used to be bad, now I’m good. Chaos is replaced by order, darkness by light, cigarettes by green juice. It’s an uplifting story with a neat resolution, a satisfying narrative arc, and an inspiring message. Look, everything went well! Rolling credits. Finish.
But that’s not the case. It’s just the beginning; at least a more nuanced story, but one that I think is ultimately more nourishing and rewarding. We say (I say!) “I’m sober” as if it’s something to be checked off and earned. But recovery is an ongoing process. It does not calcify over time but appears fluid. Sometimes I have to hold on to my sobriety as if I might lose it; most of the time I can wear it as lightly as a thin silk scarf.
I find there is always a reason to drink. Sometimes the reasons are big and important (e.g., sadness; who can blame me?), and sometimes they’re mundane and silly (e.g., orange wine is trendy right now… Should I?). So far I haven’t acted on these thoughts, but I’d be lying if I said they don’t float around and sometimes stick around for longer than is comfortable. I hope that drink from ten years ago is my last drink. I believe it will. But I’m smart enough to admit I don’t Know So be it.
For many people, part of the recovery process is relapse. (This hasn’t been my thing in the past decade, but there have been plenty of false starts before.) But they don’t fit into the happy-go-lucky sobriety…narrative, so we ignore them and assume that person is weak or unprepared. Shame, fear, disappointment, embarrassment—there are many reasons why we don’t talk about relapse.
However, an encouraging transparency is emerging around the sobriety struggle. Last week, actor Natasha Lyonne wrote on […] Keep it honest, guys. Being sick is like our secret. If no one tells you today, I love you. ” (The post has been deleted.)
Later this week, Chrissy Teigen posted that she had been sober for 52 days after relapsing. “After being sober for over a year, I started drinking again. I promised myself it would be in a ‘discreet’ way,” she wrote on Instagram, explaining how her drinking had steadily increased. “We’re not talking about the kind of drinking where you mumble your words and miss a step on the stairs. We’re just quiet and consistent. God, I feel terrible.”
Like any of us, Leon and Tegan don’t need explanations for their experiences. However, it takes courage to admit it publicly, and their generous sharing will undoubtedly help many others. It’s reassuring that these women who seemingly “have it all” can also be in trouble.
