A dry two years.

If you asked me, I’d say being sober has been easy for me. If we consulted my dreams, they’d tell you that’s a lie.

I don’t remember my dreams often, however when I do, I’m usually drinking.

It’s strange because in the dream I will know I’m sober and not supposed to do it. I will fight the battle, devil on one shoulder and angel on the other. My internal monologue argues that somehow this time doesn’t count and I drink.

I feel the stress of throwing it all away but that guilt is quickly erased by the alcohol. I drink and I feel relaxed, I let loose, and I have so much fun. I’ve attended football games, parties, and weddings drinking the night away in my dreams.

The lies alcohol has told me for years shouts at me in my sleep. Don’t forget me! Remember how I help you! I’m your friend! We have fun together!

I took my last sip of alcohol just a couple days after my 29th birthday, after deciding that I was ready to be different.

Two years have gone by.

Recently, we went to Paw Patrol Live as a family. My husband and I joked that had we still been the same people, we would’ve pregamed the show and bought the over priced beer there too. Who wants to sit through a kids show like that sober? We laughed.

It took me a long time to reach an understanding that just because something is “normal” by societal standards, doesn’t mean it’s not problematic and an unhealthy choice for me.

Triggers are everywhere. Turn on the tv, open up the internet, listen to a song, read a book. Drinking is overly normalized and inescapable. I’ve trained my brain to face the trigger and think “HA! There you are again! You’re everywhere! You do nothing for me :)” The little smiley at the end is a very important part of this process.

If you look at the language surrounding the sober community, there’s lots of rainbows and butterflies about the things you give back to yourself by abstaining. I try to let those things resonate with me and hope they’re true. I’d love to live a few extra years with all these kids I’ve created. I’ve definitely saved loads money (my sober clock says nearly 8k but who knows).

But the thing I feel I gave back to myself the most does not come with glitter.

Without alcohol, I’m forced to feel and cope. When I was drinking, every emotion deserved a drink. A buzzed baseline was preferred to ever feeling too high or too low. Perhaps I liked the predictability of it? The booze shortened my spectrum of emotions and let my conscious brain take many nights off.

A lie I could still tell myself is I was a more patient mom when I was still drinking. I wasn’t so reactive and making it through the evenings was easier. But to tell the truth, it felt simpler because I was leaning out. I was patient because I wasn’t paying attention (in a philosophical sense lol my kids were supervised… I hate adding caveats like this and purposely stop myself all the time but leaving this one to show my ego has a hard time sharing this).

Now that I’m sober- every stress, hardship, and emotional trigger is felt without my wine to soften the blow. I feel the weight of it all without liquid courage and it sucks. I do not love this part.

But what I do love is showing my kids that I don’t need to self medicate to escape or face a problem. And when things are good, the happiness and excitement they feel is enough for me, too. I do not need alcohol to have fun and enjoy time with them.

I have done a lot of self work in the last two years. Learning I doubt I would’ve sought out had alcohol still been holding my hand. I know myself better now and there’s not really a better gift than that.

Going back to my over communicative brain with the reoccurring drinking dreams- I think she’s trying to tell me she’s tired of working so hard. She sick of facing the demons of the world without her old pals, vino and brew. She says doing it all on her own is exhausting and she misses sharing the load. It would be easy to give in, the way I do in my dreams, to make exceptions or just wash it all down the drain.

I could hit bar, slam a couple lemon drops for old times sake and follow it with Sweetwater 420 (baby, I miss you and you’d be my first beer if I ever gave in). The wine aisle whispers to me in the grocery store. I could answer the call. No one is holding me to this. Giving in would be a relief.

I don’t let myself consider how much mental fortitude I am actually showing every day by choosing sobriety. I tell myself it’s not a choice anymore, it’s who I am.

Which is wild… because two years ago drinking was center to my identity. If I could change that huge thing about myself and my daily habits, how can anything else ever be hard?

I am capable of big change. I am up to any challenge.

All of this to say I am incredibly proud of myself.

Sober is hard. Sober is cool.