On the 6

When the idea popped in my head about becoming sober, I was 27 years old, had been drinking for 13 years, and didn't see a future without alcohol. However, I had had a psychotic episode the year before making this choice that not only scared me, but made me fearful of future relationships with friends/loved ones.

I don't remember where we were coming from, maybe karaoke, but I was with my sister, her now late husband, and some of his friends at a taco restaurant. I can remember still being unbelievably drunk at this restaurant, even after eating. And then something triggered in my brain and I got up and was shouting and crying and blaming my sister for something. She was drunk, too, so her husband was driving while she was in the passenger seat trying to coerce me back into the car. Dom (her late husband) had his friend get out and try to deescalate me. He was the only one equipped to handle this deescalation because he was a mental health service provider and pastor (despite being an alcoholic himself).

We never talked about that night after it happened. Dom never brought it up, neither did his friend. Shortly thereafter, Dom died and we really didn't talk about any of the things that happened, we just cried in order to move on.

Eight months after Dom died, my sister and I were out at a bar, getting shitfaced as usual. The next morning, I woke up to do gig work and decided to grab a quick meal before turning on my driving system. When I sat down to eat, I immediately felt depressed. I don't mean "depressed" in an overall sense, no, I mean in an almost tangible sense. I could actually feel sadness coming over me. I felt a darkness cloak me at that lunch table. I was sad; and not only was I sad, I realized that this sadness was connected to the drinking I had done; I did this to myself.

So I decided to become sober. I didn't know what that meant or what it would look like for me, I just knew I needed to stop consuming alcohol in this way. I have always had an adverse relationship to things that make me feel bad, mainly nauseated, which is why I was vegetarian for 9 years following one really bad episode of food poisoning. But on this day, I realized that I was feeling bad physically because of something I had done to myself.

I attended therapy, which I have spoken about a lot. I spent over five years processing my emotions and becoming accountable for myself in a practical and action-based way. I transitioned out of the victim-mindset phase, and moved on to making conscious decisions for my life that were no longer rooted in what "mommy and daddy" had "done to me." I was ready to be a whole person.

In my relationship, I was determined not to let my traumas cloud the flow of my relationship. I trusted my partner. I communicated authentically. I was open and genuine every step of the way. But now, six years later, I realize I was the only one invested in us in this way.

On the 6

Six years is a long time. It is closer to a decade than not. Six years is more than long enough to decide if you want to be with someone forever, and it is more than enough time to make conscious steps toward a stable commitment and future-building with someone. And after making dozens of other commitments to each other, being independent and marriage are the two he just could not commit to.

As this month draws to a close, I am thinking a lot about that night of my psychotic episode and the morning when I decided to be sober.

I am thinking about how scared I was in my psychotic episode because I had no control over my body. I was angry and violent and raging. My sister and our friends were probably scared for me, too. And then, less than a year later, I took the toughest step to gain control over my life by choosing to be sober. A choice I made because I was tired of feeling bad about something I loved and thought would be apart of my life forever.

My love for someone has become a poison; a counterproductive aspect of my journey that no longer serves me. I tried to make a tiny space for him throughout this month, but time continues proves that choosing myself will always always always be the right choice.

He became my alcohol. Something that took me out of the best version of myself. Something that made my friends concerned for me. Something that, in the end, made me feel I didn't have control over myself.

And at the beginning of this month, I had a thought of becoming sober from him. I needed to create space between he and I so that I could breathe again. And I almost relapsed, but last night proved why I made the choice to become sober in the first place: because I was tired of feeling bad. I was tired of feeling like I was bringing something into my life that would hurt me.

People can be drugs, too, you know? People can become addictive and we can feel drawn to them, when maybe it's just comfort.

Drinking tequila used to feel like the only time I could "be myself", and at a certain point, I felt like I could only "be myself" with him. But after being gaslit for so long, are you even yourself anymore? And how could I possibly be myself if I'm spending all my time defending my heart from someone who is supposed to be cherishing it.

Just like I got tired of the incessant hangovers and the disgusting feeling of peeling myself out of bed, I got sick of the incessant manipulation and scraping my heart off the floor.

An older friend brought up that, "A guy always wants his girlfriend back without ever doing the work to earn her back. And it's like, nah, you can't get back what you haven't worked for."

I don't know if I even want him to work for it. I feel like, you had me at my best, when I was excited about a future with you and would do anything to cultivate that. But now, you've created an air of apprehension, and hesitance. And that's not what love is.

When I fall in love, I won't have to worry about being lied to or manipulated. I won't have to hear a bunch of apologies because he won't be fucking up. And most of all, I won't be sitting in that man's face for six years questioning whether or not I'm marriage material.

He will see me, and value me immediately.

He will value me and support me immediately.

He will support me and honor me immediately.

He will honor me and celebrate me immediately.

He will celebrate me and respect me immediately.

I will not have to wait. It will be his nature. Because much like I made the choice to create a healthy life for myself; a life where I have healed from what prevented me from loving wholly, he will have done the same. And we won't have to waste time wondering about each other. We will know.

I think that is one of my favorite parts of this healing. I have not given in to believing love is impossible. I still believe. I am still hopefully. I am still dedicated to joy.