Some thoughts on being five years sober
And to celebrate, I've created a free self-compassion guide for you
Your self-compassion guide
Before I begin, I wanted to share with you a free self-compassion guide I’ve created for you. You can download it for free on my website when you sign up to my mailing list (via the pop-up or scroll to the bottom of any page).
Nurturing self-compassion was absolutely essential in my journey to sobriety. I believe it is the foundation of emotional wellbeing. It’s a radical thing, too, and something that can seem strange at first. So many of us learned to be critical of ourselves when we make a mistake or are finding things hard.
Well, making mistakes and finding it hard was all part of the deal when I was quitting drinking. Beating myself up hadn’t been working so I had to try something different. And when I spoke to myself like this - Ellie it’s OK. This is hard. I love you. Keep going - things really started to change.
If you’re taking part in Dry January this guide will also be a real help. Taking a break from alcohol, even a short one, might not be easy - and that’s OK. How will you speak to yourself if you drink this month? How will you treat yourself? Could it be with compassion and forgiveness?
What it took to get here
Being five years sober is something to celebrate, certainly. Yet it hasn’t been hard for me, at all, to be sober during this time. I don’t take it ‘one day at a time’ (though I have full respect for people who do). I have no desire to drink. Not drinking takes no effort at all.
It did take me 20 months of immense work to get to this place. But since then, in five years, the number of times the thought to drink has popped into my head I can count on one hand. And each of those times I saw it as a sign of my mental distress and how much I needed to take care of myself, rather than a direction I should follow.
So I want to really celebrate those 20 months when I travelled from a place where alcohol was my source of comfort, my way to escape, the answer to all my problems, where alcohol had a hold over me and I was trapped in shame and hopelessness; to a place where I can see this substance for what it truly is, how it really works and how it can never, ever, be a solution to anything.
I want to celebrate how I kept going even though it was so, so hard. For falling down, getting back up, again and again. For staying the course, for being totally committed to my goal. For shining a torch into the darkness, and being courageous enough to do so. For finding forgiveness and compassion for myself. For finally getting to the place where drinking was no longer an option. Where the idea that alcohol could be the solution to anything was completely and utterly gone.
I’m deeply grateful to be here: alive, sober; feeling everything; here for all of it.
And just to say: there were points in those 20 months where I thought: Why is this taking me so long? Why can’t I be one of those people who just decides not to drink and never does again? If that’s you too please remember: no matter how long it takes, keep going. You are an absolute warrior for picking yourself up again and again. I know it’s exhausting, I know it seems like an impossible mountain to climb. But you will get there, in your own way, in your own time. Trust in that.
Some thoughts on being five years sober
I am beyond grateful to be a sober mum. My son, now four years old, has never known me under the influence of alcohol. He has only ever known me. Messy, human, me. He has never watched me move slowly away from him, my brain shutting down, eyes glassy, to another realm.
Sobriety and early motherhood are so inextricably intertwined for me that I almost can’t talk about one without the other. I have changed so much in the past five years, and I have been a mother for four of them. Sobriety and matresence have transformed me into a totally different person from who I used to be. Many other things have happened in this time - both difficult things and wonderful things: such is life. It’s hard to say what is due to sobriety and what is due to something else… Also I’m five years older. That’s a significant amount of time. I’m 38 now. Of course I have changed a lot.
I know my needs so much better. I know that protecting my sleep is one of my absolute priorities. I know I can’t have caffeine after midday. I know that I love having deep chats in a cafe with a friend, but that I find going out in the evening, especially if it’s to a party, very rarely appealing. I know that gratitude can exist alongside aching exhaustion. I know that joy can exist alongside grief. When I can’t sleep, I know what to do to help me (journalling, yoga, a few minutes of Bob’s Burger’s on the iPad). I also know that sometimes feelings of dread and loneliness visit me at night. I know that I still have such feelings of longing - to be loved, to feel OK. I still struggle with the idea that I don’t need to be fixed, that I am whole, and lovable, just as I am.
Now I have such close, healthy relationships with people. Back in my 20s I never would have believed I could have or deserve relationships like this. I used to think that alcohol brought me connection. But of course it meant that I was never showing up as myself and never giving people the chance to get to know the real me.
I’m connected to something big now very often - something like love, or God, or spirit, or source. I used to believe the world was empty, uncaring and harsh. Now I notice the robin turning its head to look at me. I marvel at the peace I feel amongst the trees. I am not religious, but I went to a church service on Christmas Day and wept when the vicar talked about sharing our darkness with Jesus so that we may be forgiven. Forgiven for everything! Can you imagine? I lit a candle in honour of the grief that rose within me this Christmas, and I know yes, there is love in the world, so much love, alongside so much suffering.
Maybe I was always connected to this. Maybe I just forgot somewhere along the way. Maybe stopping drinking didn’t allow me to feel this but allowed me to know it is OK to feel this. It’s OK to be in floods of tears and moved deeply by something, even if some or lots of other people aren’t moved by the same thing. I also think it’s the experience of life, and getting older, that is making me more sensitive and in tune with what a fragile and brief and extraordinary thing being alive is.
I was recently reminded of the movie The Thin Red Line, directed by Terrence Malick. It’s a profoundly spiritual film that had a real affect on me when I saw it years ago and I want to watch it again to see how I’d respond to it now. I found this clip that is extraordinarily beautiful in every way possible and when Jim Caviezel looks up at the moon I cry and cry.
Over to you…
If you’re sober, what do you think your greatest learnings or gifts are? I would love to hear, and for others to read them too.
And whether you’re sober or not, I would love to know what has moved you to tears recently because it was beautiful and true.
Let me know in the comments
I say this frequently, but maybe someone new who needs to this will see this. Thank you for name dropping “This Naked Mind”, Ellie. That’s my greatest learning this year. 143 days sober today and so many more to come. Thank you!
Thank you for the guide Ellie and the wonderful testimony and writing! Congratulations on the five years and all you have have, are and will accomplish and all the ways you will help others!