Jamaica

Jamaica for my brother's wedding

It had been just over a month since my last drink. I kept telling people the plan was to quit just until the trip. I told people this to protect myself. If I was going to disappoint myself by drinking on this trip I sure as hell wasn’t going to have an audience.

When I first quit drinking I did it with my favourite wine sitting on the counter. I looked at it every day and made my choice to leave it. It needed to be in my face right away. I guess I like doing things the hard way. With that being said an all-inclusive trip is quite the way to start sobriety.

You see, I didn’t plan the “when” to quit. It was like one day a light was shone on a blind spot in the back corner of my mind. I could all of a sudden see things in a way I hadn’t been able to before and I wasn’t sure how long it’d be visible.

like the quitting train was going past my house and if I didn’t get on, I had no idea when the next train would come, if ever. As soon as I saw it I hopped on and held on tight.

And then … I realized it was only a month till I was going on an all-inclusive vacation.

The good news was if I could make it through this trip, I could make it through anything. I remember walking through the airport that morning and looking at the drink kiosks where I’d sat for ceasers before so many trips in my past. I was shot with nostalgia. I hadn’t even gotten on the plane yet. And there it was. Booze reminder number one of the one million and one I was about to encounter.

Oh shit

The most unfair trade I made as a drinker was an alcohol buzz for my confidence. It was like I had excess adrenaline running through my veins all the time. I would get these waves of anxiety that would make me feel like my legs might stop holding me up. Like my hands might just lose grip and drop what I was holding. I always felt a little in equipped for the world. Like a constant feeling of forgetting something important.

But today getting on that plane I felt… board.

Not nervous.

Just board.

It was weird but refreshing.

Once we got to the resort the first thing we saw were employees holding trays of rum punch. The air was warm and smelt like coconut sunscreen. The employees were enthusiastic, and we were exhausted. They welcomed everyone handing the drinks out and people took them in relief. We finally made it. I put my hand up to stop them from handing me mine and feel some colour leave my face. Dying of thirst, I looked around and saw a big water jug hiding in the corner with no cups. I took a deep breath and moved forward.

As I looked ahead there were bar tables set up and alcoholic drinks everywhere. I mean I knew this was going to be like a Canada wonderland of booze instead of rides but man. It wasted no time.

We got settled in our room and headed down to the sports bar where I ordered my first non-alcoholic drink. The bartender said something to the effect of “come on, don’t you want to have fun?” I think of telling him I’m pregnant just to make things easier. But Instead, I say “I am having fun”. This was the first of many drink orders like this. It weirdly helped. I’ve never been one to be peer pressured and the weird sad faces and comments made me dig my heels in deeper.

It didn’t take long before the saying I was having fun turned into me having fun. I told them I was in fact having more fun than anyone else there. I got to know the bar staff and they started to laugh and say “no booze, no booze she’s fun enough” when I’d come up. I was endlessly entertained by the fact I was doing this. And I was good at it. I was here, sober and couldn’t stop smiling.

Something crazy happened on that vacation. Something unexpectedly wild….

I actually relaxed.

Imagine going away and actually taking the time to heal. Taking the time to connect and be present in your life, to reconstruct all the parts of you that got wounded in the rat race of life. I was being restored.

We seem to drink at the end of the day or week to escape the pressures of our working life. And yet when we literally escape it. We decide to then escape that. How fucked up is that?

Every day I woke up pleasantly surprised to not be hung over and cherished the fact that I was hydrated and feeling good. I sat in the sun soaking it in, admiring the palm trees while waiting for people to wake up. I thought. Every other trip I’ve been on I’ve missed this part. All the trips before this I missed so damn much. How could I have been so foolish?

This was the first time I really got to enjoy being the new me or even realized I was new. At home, I had been working, busy and knew I felt good but this. This was different. This was what it was like to be 100% here and 100% whole. I felt like I could do anything.

So when the Jamaican employees shouted for volunteers to race around the pool and pop a balloon with their asses. I remembered I was a new person and I put my hand up.

When my teenager said let’s go on that big scary water slide I said yup and my hands felt steady and sure of themselves on the steep staircase railing up. When it came time to climb up a waterfall I checked in with my legs, they felt like they would never fail me.

And at the wedding when we danced, I danced like no one was watching. I was uninhabited and jammed with joy.

It turned out this trip was perfect timing.

If I had any advice I’d say if you’re looking for your way out. Jump on that train when it comes. Don’t be picky about the “when.” The sooner you do it the sooner you can heal.