If you’re a new Subscriber to DARE TO BE DRY, hello! I’m so happy to have you here. I invite you to explore below to learn a little bit more about me and find links to some of my earlier essays that connected with readers:
DARE TO BE DRY is sobriety focused. But you don’t have to have ever had a problematic tango with alcohol to be here and feel resonance. This is the space where I get curious and invite whatever parts of me want to step up that day. For decades I spent so much time and energy doing. Writing reminds me of the importance of simply being. It slows me down. I’ve learned I don’t like the pace in the fast lane.
My “hero post” explaining what my heart wants from this space and what it DARES TO BE
Two of my most vulnerable essays letting you know I Was That Kind of Drinker and what I realized when I hit 1,000 days of sobriety
Lately, I’m in a season of needing to be in nature. The pull is strong. I’m letting it pull me. It must have something to teach me. Here are two recent essays I wrote that stemmed from my time outdoors, wandering and wondering What if _____________? and Who Are Your Quiet Teachers?
I am going to ask you to take a minute before you continue reading this. I want you to close your eyes and think about answering this one question.
Who is one person in your life that has consistently shown up for you?
Do you have it yet? That person who when they make a promise to you, you don’t worry about it breaking.
Is that person in your mind’s eye right now? Ok, continue reading and bring that person with you as you scroll down.
Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who when you closed your eyes, multiple people came to mind. Or maybe you have that one person who is your ride or die, always there no matter what the problem/issue/circumstance. And maybe that is all you need to feel supported.
But let me ask you: was that person you thought of YOU? Yourself? Did you even consider that YOU could be the answer to that question?
I hope so. Because I know so.
I am tap tap tapping away on this week’s newsletter marinating in the afterglow of a gorgeous retreat that I attended this past Wednesday. Threshold was a small, intimate women’s retreat led by the magnetic teachings of
, and . For me, it was a day of recalibration. Permission to slow the pace in my mind, breath and body so that I could take a granular look at the season of life I am in right now. This allowed me to take stock of the seeds I want to plant next and recognize that my soul’s soil needs tilling. Looking around the room, in witness with all the others, it was obvious this was also a collective recalibration. The power was palpable.Leading up to the event, I did what many of us do. I questioned whether I should be taking this time for myself - a WHOLE day unplugged from work, family, every other commitment that feels urgent most days. And on my ride home, stuck at a standstill in typical heavy Boston traffic, I looked at myself in the rearview mirror, made actual eye contact with myself and said (out loud), “Thank you.” I thanked myself for gifting myself with this day to check in and check out. Check in with what I need irrespective and apart from what my world needs from me. Check out of all the obligations that can sit on my chest and bury my heart any other day of the week.
That one promise I let myself fulfill for that one day of checking in and checking out reminded me of one other promise I made to myself not too long ago.
This past Sunday marked one whole year of me publishing weekly on Substack.
DARE TO BE DRY is the product of a practice of showing up. It’s the product of a practice of me cracking my heart open and letting words fall out. Words that I craft into something each week.
This newsletter is the product of a practice of me keeping one promise that I made to myself. It is a practice of believing that this promise will be mean something.
What I’ve learned is that it does take practice to keep promises to myself, especially when life gets noisy and busy and distracting. The practice feels especially heavy when other things glare at me urgently.
While consistently showing up to the blank page, something was planted in me that wants to sprout and break through the topsoil, insisting the sun reach it.
When you practice showing up to your promise, there is power underneath the promise. I can tell you right now as I type these words, what this feels like is me co-signing internal trust. This is me vetting my younger self who shows up to say, “remember how I told you this is what you wanted.”
I didn’t know what a year of showing up to my words would feel like and I certainly didn’t know how much wind would set under my sails as I kept this practice going. As I reflect back, it wasn’t all sunshine and fun and dopamine baths. There were some weeks when I didn’t want to show up this way, to myself. And when that happened, some part of me stood up and just whispered to me, remember that promise?
Today, I have 511 subscribers who make that little girl inside me, who made certain promises to herself, feel like she can take center stage on the page. For just a moment. And that’s all she needs. While typing this does feel a bit self-indulgent, I also know that stepping out of self-abandonment can never equate to selfishness.
I believe anyone reading this can relate. Because I believe you must have made a promise or a vow to yourself, whether it was decades ago or a month ago, that you sometimes question yet yearn to fulfill.
My words for you today:
Shift from ignore to implore. Till the soil of that promise. Let it grow. Practice showing up to it. Because the product of a promise can be food for the soul. Who doesn’t need that kind of nourishment?
If you missed it, here’s my first ever daring DARE TO BE post below. That face looking at you is me, pen in hand. Young Allison writing promises to herself. And here I am, still doing it. Thank you, from everything in my heart, for being here for it. I am beyond grateful.
I’ll end this week with gratitude for the many folks who have followed along and showed up to Notes this month in honor and recognition of National Recovery Month. I am passionate about speaking up and recovering out loud and I have found such compassion and solidarity with other sober folks here on this platform.
For the past 27 days, each morning I have showed up on Notes and said the same thing:
PLEASE READ:
September is National Recovery Month in the U.S. and Canada
I am a woman in recovery. I am recovering from alcohol addiction.
Because I believe in the power of sharing our stories and because I want to stand in my truth, I choose to recover out loud.
For the month of September, every day, I will show up here to Notes and shine a light on another writer who is showing up and speaking out about the freedom one finds when living into a sober life. 🔦🔦
I also feel pulled to share this message I received from a friend I haven’t seen since high school.
May we all keep spreading our stories. May we all keep the promises we make to ourselves. Show up to your promise because you never know who you will inspire to reach for theirs.
A huge, heartfelt extra dose of THANK YOU to
for upgrading to a paid subscription this week. Louise, my heart has been grateful to you for quite a while and now the appreciation has my heart singing. #88888YOUR TURN TO TELL AND TILL YOUR PROMISE:
~What is your relationship with showing up to the promises you make? Are you more likely to break a promise to yourself versus someone else?
~If you’re comfortable doing so, tell us about a promise you made to your younger self. One that you may have buried out of obligation to others or out of self-doubt. Could you start a practice of showing up to that promise?
If you're a writer on Substack and have been enjoying my work, please consider recommending DARE TO BE DRY to your readers for essays from a sober focused woman and mom who is waking up to life here in mid-life, daring to speak up as a woman in recovery who is writing about recovery of self, turning down the noise of the world, reclaiming desire and walking into each day with intentional living.
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BEFORE I GO:
Question: Do you like a challenge? I do! Would you like some accountability in regularly posting here on Substack? Me too. Check out the Sparkle on Substack Essay Club where you can find this cute badge:
All you have to do is commit to write (up to) 24 essays each by January 31st 2025. Here is my #13 of 24. Join
and her fun vibe for some collective writing inspiration.
Needed this. I don’t take enough time to celebrate myself. Sometimes I gloss over what I’ve done and minimize it. I need to do more of this even if in small ways. I play the uk not deserving game too often. Going to take some time to show myself some appreciation this weekend.
a total blessing to meet you and witness you, Allison. thankful for your presence here and there at Threshold and on every call you have with your friends who are struggling and for your "thank you" to yourself. yup.