2023

It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m sitting at my kitchen counter, crowded by the groceries I refused to put away yet. You see, it’s quiet right now in my house, and no one is asking anything of me. The kids are crafting/videoing gaming, my husband's napping, and I’m taking advantage of this distracted household by doing one of my favourite things: Writing. Once dinner arrives, the house will come back alive, and the New Year's game-playing will commence, but until then, it’s just me, my mess and my iPad.

I'm not too fond of Christmas, as some of you know. But I’m into New Year's. I like the idea of a new start. I Like the closing of a time. I like looking back at the year and appreciating the good and the bad, reflecting on how I’ve grown, and being honest about where I’ve let things slide. The opening of another year feels like a new chance at a better me. I always have a theme for the year. It’s not a resolution per se but a general I will work on this through the year type deal.

2023’s theme was doing scary things. I heard someone say once that when it comes to fear, don’t let it bring on an automatic no. Let the fear sit briefly and decide if you’re protecting yourself from your perceived failure. Ask yourself, are you allowing perfect to be the enemy of the good? Is fear holding you back from your full potential? Do you wish you were the person who had the nerve to do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing? If yes, Then be them. Think less, do more. Needless to say, I was inspired.

When I began journaling, I intended the writings to be for my eyes only, but I found myself writing with others reading it in mind. I listened to my words repeatedly and rewrote paragraphs with the question, “Am I holding back?” Is this as honest as it gets?” Because one coat of sugar means there’s still some shame. If there ever was something worthy of my theme, this was it. What’s scarier than having your most vulnerable moments exposed to the possible judgment of your peers?

So, I started 2023 with a public post about my drinking story for all to read. Putting my writing out into the world was like jumping off the highest cliff imaginable. I kept thinking of all the people who might read it and what they would think. My family, my friends, The mean girls from high school, you know who you are. (kidding.) After I did it, I even tried to undo it. I panicked, back peddling and deleting.

All these things popped into my head about how people would perceive me once knowing I had a drinking problem. Does it make me less trustworthy? Will they assume I was full of drama and conflict? Where did this stigma come from? Why is it so important to me that people understand how lousy drinking was for me, but also to have them not stereotype me as some extreme alcoholic? Why do I care what that says about me? What does it say about me?

Does it say I’m human? That took the third most addictive substance in the world over and over again, and holy shit, I got addicted to it. Has anyone looked around lately? There's an excuse to drink no matter where or what you do. People are giving each other actual money just to refrain from drinking for one month! I guess it’s only when you quit you’re labelled. After all, no one seemed to be interested in my drinking story till I wasn’t drinking.

I thought maybe no one would bother to read it, but that was not the case. During the first couple of months after “outing myself,” I talked endlessly about my drinking to people everywhere I went. It’s wild to me how much explaining I needed to do about writing pieces meant to explain myself. But explaining is what I did. Somehow, it seemed that no one read my blog with the exact intention I wrote it with.

No matter how I worded it when reiterated back to me, it felt exaggerated or under-exaggerated, never hitting right in the middle where it truthfully was. Everyone came into these talks with their preconceived notions of what type of drinker I was and what that meant about them. I was in charge of setting everyone straight. It was an impossible job trying to showcase the right shade of this grey area in a world that feels more comfortable in black or white.

All that explaining at the time seemed frustrating, but the posting, comments and explaining ended up being the most freeing, healing, liberating thing I’ve ever done, and the benefits for me stretch long and wide. People responded with curiosity and confusion but also acceptance and compassion. They started to treat my sobriety with the care and respect it needed from the start. Who knew telling people how you feel would make them act so aware of how you feel?

When I started to post on sober sites, I got so much great feedback and so much community support it brought the experience to a whole new level of appreciation.

2023 was filled with scary things, white water rafting, singing in public and riding in helicopters, but writing and sharing my story has been the thing I’m most proud of. I’ve learned so much about myself through this process and let go of things that I needed to let go of. I have never thought of myself as brave, and now I do. That feels pretty freaking big for one year.

So, as I sit here waiting for food, family and celebrations, I debate what the theme of this new year could be, doubting it’s as impactful as the one we’re saying goodbye to. I’m so grateful for 2023. I used to think sobriety gave me back the courage that alcohol stole, but maybe I have more courage now than I ever would have had I not gotten addicted to alcohol and then quit. Perhaps it says nothing but awesome things about me.

It's true when they say what other people think of you is none of your business.

And there is no better way to let go of shame than living like you know that.