By Mira Cohen, Senior Director of Creative Strategy, JF&CS
Two years ago, I wrote
about getting sober, learning how to stay sober, and living in recovery. I got sober in 2013, have stayed sober ever since, and I now live a life I no longer feel the need to escape from. This doesn’t mean that I’m immune to the discomfort of life; I love, grieve, stumble, fail, and grow like anybody else. I fear the future, I miss the mark sometimes, and I get disappointed by tragedy—I’m right here, feeling it all, in real time.
Honestly, I was never seeking to be present and experience the world with the rest of you, but it’s what I’m the most grateful for today. Sometimes what you need is what you’ve never had.
Have you ever clicked “update later” when your computer suggests updating an app or software? Remind me later. Remind me tonight. Not right now, I’ll get to that later. Over time, your computer stops processing like it used to. It makes you wait to open applications, and it can be pretty frustrating when it starts taking longer to “drag and drop.” At first, you may save time by leaving files on your desktop or in the downloads folder, but then the clutter begins, and what began as a few obvious documents you knew by glance becomes a mess you wish to ignore. Living in recovery is like updating software: my time and experience in the world lead me to learn new lessons, mostly through pain/error, and then my software (soul, mind, etc.) needs an update. The trick is learning to update the software as soon as I get the notification.
If you’ve somehow avoided computers, that sounds peaceful, and I applaud you. I’m really just talking about humanity, though. I wanted to believe that I was unique, experiencing an existence that you, too, would drink over if you knew it. My problem was that I thought I had to drink. I didn’t know I had a choice to face reality, because it simply felt too overwhelming and painful. The 12 Steps showed me a path toward that choice: a choice to change.
What do these “notifications” look like today at 4,370 days sober? I start feeling frustrated with people, lacking patience, forgetting to pause before reacting. I start thinking about how misunderstood I feel. I dissect behavior, assign meaning to it, and then somehow deem myself responsible for it. Suddenly, setting a boundary feels like trying to drag furniture that’s bolted to the wall, while simultaneously resembling the only ticket to my peace of mind. Maybe I work too much, forget to eat, and barely reach five hours of sleep each night (I’d hate for someone to tell me I look tired). When I find myself struggling, it’s a notification for an opportunity to change.
12 years is just around the corner, sure, but it’s imperative that I live one day at a time. In order to remain free and in recovery, I must do what I did to get sober and stay sober. I don’t fear my feelings, nor bully myself for having them. I get to choose what kind of person I want to be. I don’t have to be sorry; I get to be different. I ask for help when I need it, I help others when I can, and I allow the people I trust to keep me accountable. Of course, I also don’t drink or use drugs. Each anniversary, I am pleasantly reminded of how much I don’t know. That brings me so much comfort now, because I have so much to look forward to and so much to learn.
September is National Recovery Month, but we don’t just celebrate recovery, we celebrate hope. If you struggle with drugs or substance use, you’re not alone: HAMSA is here.