Discovering Recovery

and staying curious

September is National Recovery month here in the U.S.  It is one of those months when the buzz words “sober curious” pops up on your feeds.   If the buzz has a lasting fizzle and stays there in your mind – like sludge that won’t move along, allow it to stay for a bit and hear me out.  Perhaps you have an internal whisper on repeat that says, “do I drink too much?” or “is my habit becoming more than just a way to wind down?”  Please know that if this is you, if this feels true, consider listening to that voice and stay curious. 

Words are important to me. 

The word recover, as a verb, is defined as:

1.     return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.

2.     find or regain possession of something lost or stolen

I stopped drinking alcohol back in January of 2021.  I got and stayed curious about sobriety when my whispers wouldn’t leave me alone.  One thing I learned along the way is that when I got quiet enough to listen and brave enough to feel my days, it evolved into a spectacular discovery.  One I am still unpacking.  A treasure chest of memories long lost that I can’t believe pop up, dreams I thought I dismissed, and days that glimmer in such small yet significant ways.

Because words matter to me, I recoil a bit when I say the words, “I am in recovery”.   I mean, aren’t we all recovering from something?  And what is the barometer for who/what is normal?  Aren’t we all magnificently fractured in our own ways and isn’t that what makes this world so dynamic? What is the litmus test for a healthy mind? 

My sober curious experience has been more of a discovery.   This word feels right. lt fits. 

The word discover, as a verb, is defined as:

1.     find (something or someone) unexpectedly or in the course of a search.

2.     become aware of (a fact or situation).

3.     be the first to find or observe (a place, substance, or scientific phenomenon). 

In the gorgeous memoir, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Maggie Smith begins with an epigraph that quotes Emily Dickinson

“I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.”

Until I removed alcohol, I didn’t know I needed a lantern.  I didn’t know that my habitual nightly routine of numbing out was a mere symptom of so much more.  With my lantern, I could face all the dark thoughts and not drink (push) them away.  There were days and nights where I thought holding that lantern was going to wreck me.   Yet something in me knew I needed to keep it lit.  A knowing that the kerosene would flicker into a bigger flame.  This flame has ignited something in me that I truly didn’t know lived in me.  That internal fire has kept me so warm.  For years I left myself out in the cold.  Too numb and frostbit to even see or feel where the pain was.   And this reignition - I owe it all to that whisper.   That small voice that was brave enough to persist.   The call was coming from inside the house.  From the little kid still alive in me that needed a voice.   That shy girl who kept all the words inside her.

Keeping my lantern close by, I’ve discovered a long, slow burn can throw off a lot of light.  I didn’t know that stumbling my way in the dark would improve my vision.   A sober lens can do that.  I never knew how much I was missing.  Until I got curious.  It was like my world turned high-def.  All the familiar places I had already traveled turned into more.  It was like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world in Wizard of Oz.  That quiet whisper in my mind about alcohol’s hold on me gained momentum and swirled into a mental tornado; gripping me until I had to let it take me.  I resisted those winds for so long.  Until finally, I couldn’t take the whiplash anymore.  On the other side of that storm, I caught authentic wind.  The kind that you wish will result in wildfire.  You want this to spread.  I realized, I’m not in Kansas anymore.   And here is where I want to stay.  THIS.   This feels like home.  And we all know – there’s no place like home. 

I didn’t know any of this until I got (and stayed) curious.  The more curious I got about myself, the more I felt compelled to write.  As a kid, I wrote ALL the time.  I majored in English yet let societal pulls lure me into a more “prestigious” route – law.  I recall vividly hating the way I was forced to write in law school.  No room for creativity.  Even the word “brief” made me shudder.  I didn’t want to regurgitate the facts, the law – I didn’t want to be brief or write any briefs.  I wanted to expand.  But.  Yet.  I stayed.  And thought I couldn’t be both.  I can’t write and build a career in law.  I can’t write and build a family.  I carried these thoughts with me.  Until one day, while holding a lantern up to myself, I heard a whisper that said, “you still can.”

There is a quote that I return to all the time when I think about the idea of being sober curious (or really, curious about anything):

If the answer wasn’t already within you – you would not be able to formulate the question.

~Ajahn Chah

If there is a question you keep asking yourself.  If it wakes you up.  If it distracts you continuously.  Hear it out.  Follow it.  It may give you the courage to pick up your own lantern where you can explore and discover the depths of you.  Those desires you thought were long lost. 

So this is my invitation to you. Consider hitting the subscribe button below to follow more of what I want to share.   Please join me in getting curious.   And this does not have to equate to you giving up drinking.  Drinking may not be the thing that is getting in the way of your discovery.  It is my thing.  Yours may be something else entirely.  I am not a prohibitionist.  I’m not here to cast judgment or shade on drinkers.  I’m here to try and inspire us to stop numbing out.  Let yourself feel.  Grab hold of your own lantern.  It’s not going to burn you.