4 Months After Going Sober, This Is My New Normal
By: Jemma Jorel
Tags: Body, Mind, Addiction, Self, Alcohol

By now, everyone in my social spheres knows that I’m sober. It’s mostly past the point where people are congratulating me, trying to talk me out of it, or privately asking me follow-up questions. Seems like the buzz has died down and everyone is moving on with their lives. But it remains such a powerful experience that I want to continue examining Life Without Alcohol™. So although nobody’s asking, I’m answering. You’re welcome.

For one, I am physically renewed with a new sense of normal, one gloriously free from hangovers. I wake up most days by 6:30 a.m. and meditate. Often, I will do some yoga or stretching before work. Mornings are quiet and calm, and I move through them with a grateful mind. Evenings are expansive and productive. I have hours to write or cook or paint. I have time for self-care. I’m able to give myself what I truly need with more consistency.

Without the intoxicating fog of a few drinks (and it was almost always a few), my body’s signals come in much clearer. I can now generally distinguish whether I’m hungry, thirsty, tired, stressed, or stir-crazy. Sitting in front of a computer all day, my body can get restless. But I’m never “too drunk” for a run or an emergency call to my mom. Maybe I’m cranky and irritable (that doesn’t go away, unfortunately), but I’ve been known to put myself to bed at 8:30 or 9 p.m. if things are really dire.

I am actually happy most of the time. No amount of drunken celebration ever gave me that.

It’s astonishing to me now how heavily I relied on alcohol to manage discomfort. Even if the day was terrible and I argued with my boss or my boyfriend, I knew I had wine in my near future. I so often ignored my feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, or unhappiness. And why not? I could rely on an austere Oregon pinot to make them fade away. Of course, those vile feelings would reliably shock me awake the next morning with a sickening intensity. Cue self-loathing and shame. But at least there was always the next glass to look forward to.

Sober and spicy at four months. Photo: Jemma Jorel

After four months of sobriety, I have so many other, more sustainable tools in my belt. My mind is sharper and more self-aware. I’m able to look at my thought process and assess it, taking a beat before getting dragged into drama against my will. I can have the negative emotion without wholeheartedly buying in. I am getting much more skilled at guiding my thoughts out of the catastrophic and into the curious, grateful, or creative. I can address things directly with other people and shift problems or tension. I can set boundaries and leave—or ask other people to.

Speaking of which, my relationships have changed too. I want to spend my social time engaging deeply and positively, hammering out goals and figuring out how to make them reality. Helping each other feel powerful and seen and loved. I want to be super present, open to the miracles of life that are constantly presenting themselves. That… wasn’t always happening in the past. There’s certainly a lot to complain about in the San Francisco of 2019. In fact, there’s a never-ending supply of things to complain about. But I noticed that dwelling on misfortune or being critical was a big part of my boozy social life, and in sobriety, it’s simply lost its appeal. I’m seeing opportunity everywhere, and I’d rather talk about that.

I also find other people’s mental states more intense. I don’t have that insulation provided by liquor that keeps me focusing on myself (and my plans for the next drink). When I’m with you, I’m with you. That can be really uncomfortable, for both of us. It’s weird to be with people who are drinking to get drunk. A glass with dinner is fine, but much more and the connection drops like a bad signal. And it doesn’t stop with a tipsy night out. I had a day date recently with a hungover someone and that sort of sealed its fate. I’m not going to deal with anybody’s hangovers anymore.

But the people who remain are solid. Those who remain are trustworthy and life-affirming. I have started bimonthly video dates with a dear friend in Pittsburgh, also sober, a complete and utter treasure. We’ve gone deeper in eight FaceTime sessions than I have with some friends over years. Not to mention that my mom (sober too) and I are suddenly thick as thieves, a gift so precious words cannot adequately describe it. A part of me that was resigned to surviving on my own has reconnected with my source.

And I think that’s the best thing about sobriety. I am intentionally connected to what gives me life. As I deepen those connections, I am clearer on what’s important to me, and I’m able to make room for those things in my life. I can enjoy what I only paid lip service to in the past: health, creativity, relationships. I am actually happy most of the time. No amount of drunken celebration ever gave me that.

I’m proud to know I’m capable of making such an empowering change. I would not have said it was possible a year ago.

My friends and family who have supported me in this experience continue to teach me. Four months in, I feel like I’ve scaled a mountain, but I’m reminded that it’s still early in this process. If I continue indefinitely on this track, what will it feel like after a year? Or seven? My goals are so much more graspable. I’m thinking bigger. I’m audacious and powerful.

The truth is this is isn’t really about alcohol. But sobriety has given me the space and support to make mindset shifts that would have taken years to do while drinking, if at all. I’m proud to know I’m capable of making such an empowering change. I would not have said it was possible a year ago.

For those of you who are considering trying it, do it. For those of you who are early in your journey, kudos and keep it up. For those of you miles down the road, tell me your secrets. For those of you who don’t want to try sobriety, ermm… Why did you read this far? (I’m mostly teasing.) I hope this has given you a little insight into what life might be like for the sober of us around you. And also, know this: It’s been an absolute joy.