The Two-Year Itch
September 15, 2024 marked my second sobriety anniversary, and while I'm grateful for another sober year, this milestone felt remarkably different from my first. This is probably due to the fact that over the past six months, alcohol really hasn’t been on my mind. Since I stopped attending twelve-step meetings in March, I have gradually reintegrated back into ‘normal life’ without obsessing about alcohol 24/7. Despite the noticeable progress, I am feeling a sense of overwhelming uneasiness. Most of my discomfort comes from self-doubt and not living up to my potential. I know, first world problems at their finest, but they can still be crippling nonetheless.
I am starting to believe that if you are not aligned with your correct path in life, mental mind games and literal obstacles will arise until you make the necessary changes. It's the universe's twisted way of testing you.
I've been in my existential crisis-era lately, questioning the meaning of life. At 32, single, and child-free, I often feel like I'm just existing rather than truly living. While the sober community often highlights the transformative benefits of sobriety (and there are many), they rarely discuss the negatives. This lack of acknowledgement can make you feel like you're failing at sobriety or ungrateful for the freedom it offers. I see myself as more of a tragic optimist than someone who promotes toxic positivity, which is why this narrative really pisses me off. You can be happy you are sober but still mourn your previous life.
For me, finding joy in my day-to-day has been one of the greatest challenges. The sad truth I've come to realize is that I never truly understood happiness; it was often hidden behind intoxication and distractions from reality. As a result, in early sobriety, I would often gaslight myself into believing that certain activities I once enjoyed while drinking could be just as enjoyable sober.
But I quickly realized that it was a delusion of grandeur. In my search for discovering joy, I tried new hobbies, like committing to jiu-jitsu for three months. While some aspects were rewarding, the constant neck pain and cortisol spike I would get each time a fellow student jumped me from behind made it not worth continuing.
With all that said, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to occasional nostalgia for my previous life—one marked by drinks at fancy bars or day-drinking on summer afternoons at the beach. As a result, gratitude can sometimes be hard to find.
To be clear, I’m not seeking pity. I’ve made these choices willingly and don’t see myself as a victim. Without a substance to numb my thoughts, I am left constantly battling my own mind…which is proof by this blog. However, I now choose to believe that these thoughts serve a purpose. It’s up to me to make the necessary changes to reduce this tortured state, rather than remain stuck in it. And unfortunately, action is usually the only way out.
Self-doubt has been a constant theme in my life. I’m passionate about writing and dream of turning it into a career, but I haven’t written in months. As a result, I end up angry with myself, criticizing my wasted potential, which only makes me feel worse. Meanwhile, nothing gets done.
It’s a toxic cycle that doesn’t break until I finally start writing. If that isn’t a self-fulfilling prophecy, I don’t know what is.
Anniversaries are a time for reflection, and as I look back over the past two years, I see how much I’ve changed. I'm not the same person I was at that Harry Styles concert in August 2022. In some ways, I’ve grown for the better, but in others, I’m still a deeply flawed human being—emphasis on ‘deeply’. I don’t always love every part of who I am, but I’m learning that this is part of living an authentic life. Accepting these parts of myself has been tough, but pretending they don’t exist is even worse.
Now, when negative emotions arise, I try to understand their source because they are almost always rooted from somewhere. If I feel jealousy or want to criticize someone (which happens more often than I would like to admit), it’s usually because they are doing something I wish I were doing. When I take steps to feel better about myself, those feelings fade.
When sadness over past choices hits like a freight train, it’s usually tied to shame or unresolved regret. This, I've found, is a harder emotion for me to overcome.
It’s natural to avoid uncomfortable feelings—no one truly wants to confront them—but for me, I would rather experience the pain now, then bury it and have it come back as stage-4 cancer twenty years from now. I’m grateful for another year of sobriety, though it feels less monumental this time. It came and went like any other day, which, in hindsight, is exactly what I wanted. Alcohol no longer dominates my life, and for that, I’m immensely proud.
As I move forward, I hope September 15th continues to be a day of reflection, reminding me of the journey I’ve taken, the steps it took to get here and the work I still have left to do.
