I'm sober. Now, what?

Burning out on self-help in sobriety

Sober Social Ireland is a newsletter about living a life without alcohol in Ireland and everything that comes along with it.

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Dear lovely reader,

As always, a bit of housekeeping:

1. Our community calls take place on the second Monday of each month. Our October call will take place TOMORROW Monday 14th October at 7pm!

2. Our podcast is released on the last Wednesday of each month. Did you miss the last episode? Click here to go and have a listen!

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Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

I’m sober. Now, what?

The question grew louder and louder as I proudly marched past the one year anniversary of my sobriety. The first year of my adult life without alcohol was everything I dreamed it would be, and more. Oh, how I enjoyed building new routines (and sticking with them) and the secure, rhythmic predictability which had not been a part of my life in recent years due to my weekend over-drinking. For years I had listened to recovery podcasts, dreaming that one day I would be able to tell my own story of overcoming alcohol.

Well, I did it. I hadn’t drank for an entire year. And within that year, I slowly discovered the magical and transformative concept of ‘self-help’.

Self-help. That’s how I described the way I quit drinking. I did it on my own. I was self-sufficient. No AA. No SMART recovery meetings. No addiction therapist. No rehab. No medication. Nothing except me, my books, podcasts and Instagram community. I did it myself.

The thrill and satisfaction of finally (read: FINALLY) reaching one year of sobriety buzzed throughout my entire being. I was new to this feeling — achieving a goal I had set for myself. Or at least, that’s the story I told myself. At the ripe old age of 27, I was on track to complete my Ph.D. a few months after I hit my one year sober milestone. Not exactly an underachiever, but being proud of myself was a foreign concept during most of my 20s. I spent a lot of time chasing, some time achieving, and little to no time reflecting on the progress I was making. My drinking smudged the pride away like a magic eraser. Every positive milestone, graduation, and celebration was always punctuated by an embarrassing or dangerous drinking session that attached a stinging pain in my brain each time I recalled what I had achieved.

Without alcohol, it finally felt good to reach my goal. There was no impending threat of backsliding right down to my self-loathing baseline with a massive amount of vodka-blackcurrant-and-waters from the local pub. I knew my head would hit the pillow the night of my sobriety milestone and I would wakeup the next day with the familiar smugness of the first hangover-free Saturday mornings in the early days of my journey. God, those used to feel really good, didn’t they?

Now intoxicated by the scent of success, rather than the second cheapest red wine from the local off-licence, I was ready to set my sights on my next target.