The One "No" That Made Space for Hundreds of Yeses (and counting)
As one year of sobriety rounds the corner, I reflect.
Welcome to this tiny corner of the internet where an off-duty psychotherapist keeps the conversation going on how to make sense of this life thing we’re all doing. If you ever wondered what your therapist does off the clock—which, who among us hasn’t?—this is like that. Think of it as the adult equivalent of seeing your elementary school teacher at the grocery store picking out lemons. 🍋 I typically oscillate between long-form psychoeducation pieces and narrative essays—sometimes I smush them together. I also do a biweekly podcast with my husband, advice-adjacent pieces, roundups and most recently started a segment of brisk thoughts on music, TV, and film.
Today, I narrate. I got a lil’ something to celebrate. As such, it’s gonna be corny as hell and a bit self-indulgent. Buckle up accordingly.
A part of me feels weird writing about sobriety in such close succession with this piece where I explored a lot of the angles of my sobriety, but what am I gonna do? I don’t control the calendar. My quit date is what it is: May 21st, 2023.
A quick note, I say quit date rather than the anniversary of my sobriety because I was unknowingly served a drink last November. The NA game is so strong these days, I thought it was sans alcohol, but alas it was not. You can read all about that experience here.
Maybe not everyone would reset their date, but I have a piece of me that is very technical and wants to know the last time I had a drink. I don’t know that I’ll celebrate that one in the same way I will this one. May 21st is a birth day for me. A date of choice. The last day I had a drink was chosen for me, which I don’t love, but have mostly accepted (does it count as acceptance if it comes with a side-eye?)
As I round the corner into one year of consciously removing alcohol from my life and body I feel…teary.
Is that an emotion?
I guess I should know that, being a mental health professional and all. Oh, the warehouses you could fill with what I don’t know.
I feel giddy. proud. grateful. free. peaceful.
This year has felt so expansive for me. As I wrote back in November, sobriety has “resulted in me softening my grip on myself, strangely. I don’t think that really tracks with what I thought sobriety would be. Or what it seemed liked from the outside. I thought it would be all control and restriction. It wasn’t until I stopped drinking that I realized, for me, drinking was the restrictor. Drinking limited me, even the moderate amount I was consuming. Not the other way around.”
I imagine this is true for a lot of people who choose sobriety, but what strikes me in this moment of reflection is how much of a watershed moment1 this was. It was as if by saying no more to this one thing, all these yeses got unlocked within me.
Yes, I want to start a newsletter and podcast.
Yes, I will have that hard conversation.
Yes, I’m investing in an intensive therapeutic training.
Yes, I’m going to try running again.
Yes, I’m off to a coffee date with a new friend.
Yes, I am going to join a writing group.
And most shockingly of all to me—Yes, I’m open to chatting in an elevator.
WHO AM I EVEN????
Over dinner with a friend just last night I was articulating how it’s about being sober from more than alcohol. It’s about being abstinent from neglect. Being the most loving, attuned, and encouraging parent to myself I can be.
“That hurts. OK, thank you for telling me. What can we do to tend to that?”
“You’re overwhelmed. Yes, of course you are. Let’s slow down.”
“You’re celebrating. Wonderful! What would you most like to feel and sense in celebrating?”
“You’re feeling unsure of yourself? That happens. It’s OK to name that.”
It’s not just my emotional senses that are no longer dulled.
I bite into a chunk of watermelon. My eyes go wide with pleasure and awe.
I watch the cream as it mixes with my evening tea. Before my eyes, it transforms into the most spectacular cloud front. Immediately, I’m revisiting a sunset from a few summers ago in Santa Fe.
I know, I know. It sounds like I’m under the influence of something. That’s the thing that has blown my mind this year. The awakening of my senses by being in my body2 and with my Self. Honestly, I do feel a bit fucked up sometimes.
That isn’t to say this year has been without it’s struggles. It’s had some moments, for sure. It’s just that alcohol wasn’t a part of them. It seems clearer than ever to me that the ones I continue to grapple with are the ones you get from engaging in life, rather than checking out of it. I also feel uniquely less alone in dealing with the hard times when they do arise—less alone with myself and less alone with my people.
One fear I had was that I’d feel disconnected from the people in my life if I chose the sober path. While, if I’m honest, it did result in some clunky moments requiring recalibration—updating someone that I no longer drink alcohol, or when meeting someone new, sharing my sobriety—after the initial “I don’t know what to do with my hands” type awkwardness, everything mostly levels.3
There is a saying in the modality of therapy I’m currently getting trained in, Internal Family Systems (IFS): self begets self. What this means is that it’s possible the more you are being self-led4, the more you will continue to do so5 and the more the people around you will as well.
I can wholeheartedly say I’ve never felt more connected with those in my life and I didn’t have to abandon one ounce of myself to do so. All the pieces of me are accounted for.
My no was about drinking, but it doesn’t have to be that. It could be anything. That thing you can sense is a weight around your ankles dragging you further from the surface of what you want to be and how you want to show up for people in your life.
These could be no’s of any size.
No, I don’t want to go to that event.
No, I don’t feel called to be a parent.
No, this isn’t where I want to live.
No, I don’t want to date this person.
No, I don’t like this dish, or that music, or these jeans.
I worried saying “no” in this way would close me off, shut me down. It would be too negative, too extreme. But as I leaned in to this no, what opened up inside me is nothing short of magic. It’s felt like a clown car of possibility. Me to myself, “What else you got in there?”
Saying a deeply felt no, helped me find my yeses. Scratch that. Maybe it’s more that sometimes saying no is actually saying yes.
I have a deep well of appreciation to the parts of me that took the chance on making this change. They couldn’t have known it would feel like this. Last year at this time, it was merely speculation, a wondering.
If you’ve ever made a change like this, I imagine you know what I mean. It seems simple enough and then you begin to catalyze. The chorus in your mind starts with their concerns about the impact to the homeostasis they’ve grown so accustomed to. And yet, those pieces felt I was worth disrupting stasis for. They had enough faith that I’d be OK, showing up just as I am. I’ll forever be grateful for that.
And to all those in my life who supported me this last year, even those who were a bit confused by my decisiveness, I see you. You let me lead with what I knew to be true. And now I know, that is what I’ve needed all along.
Questions for you:
What is something you’ve said “No” to that opened up some Yeses.
When do you feel that kind of spiritual, non-substance induced euphoria with your senses?
Any suggestions of how I could celebrate this occasion?
You can find more info and my full disclaimer on my about page here. Abridged version: I’m a therapist, but not your therapist—even if you are a client of mine ~hi, dear one!~ this isn’t a session. dialoguing is an educational and informational newsletter only, not a substitute for mental health treatment.
Also, if you’re interested in submitting a question for the dialogue league, recent example here, please email me at dialoguingsubstack@gmail.com—or if you’re reading this via email you can just hit reply and send me a message. Love hearing from you for any and all reasons!
|*|*|*| Catch this one before it goes behind a paywall:
|*|*|*| If you liked this one, you may also like:
Real talk I had to look up this term to make sure I was using it correctly.
Being in one’s own body can often be quite inaccessible. Unprocessed traumatic experiences can impact one’s ability to be embodied. For more information on this, see Bessel Van Der Kolk’s The Body Keeps The Score.
Of course, there are people that have and will continue to have discomfort around my sobriety. I’ve learned this is rarely about me and more about something the other person is working through, quite like it was about me when I had feelings about other’s sobriety in the past.
8 C’s of Self-leadership: calm, curiosity, courage, connectedness, confidence, creativity, compassion and clarity
This is certainly more complex than just #beyourself. There are environments where it is unsafe to do so. There is always a bit of a dance between you and your external environment. What IFS has taught me is that even in less than supportive environments, we can still find some harmony within our systems.
This: “It seems clearer than ever to me that the ones I continue to grapple with are the ones you get from engaging in life, rather than checking out of it.” is a beautiful realization.
My no/s these days definitely involve saying no to events and gatherings that aren’t for me. I’m choosy with my time!
Congratulations, sobriety is no easy feat!