reflecting on two years of sobriety

It turns out the best gifts we get are the ones we give ourselves.

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. 🍋

One thing before we jump in, I show up very much as myself here. Myself first, and all my other labels are secondary. If a therapist speaking candidly feels like too much to your system, that is absolutely is OK and this may not be the best particular newsletter for you.

Last week was my 2 year Soberthday.¹

The evening of I posted a Note with a picture of a cake my husband brought home to commemorate the occasion. The amount of love I got in return was surreal. Now I know the true meaning of “overwhelming support.” It’s literally overwhelming. I didn’t know how to respond, let alone actually receive it.

Whenever I’m meant to feel something–birthdays, anniversaries, achievements, milestones with my son–I go blank.

Any other day I’m all feeling, but on these noteworthy days, the pressure mounts and I freeze.

My training as a psychotherapist, particularly in Internal Family Systems (IFS),² has helped me make sense of this sudden fogginess.

It’s not that I feel nothing, it’s that I feel so much my system short circuits.

I have a part of me that feels excited I’ve committed to sobriety in the way I have. They want to lean into this moment and celebrate.

Another part, afraid of embarrassment. Don’t make a big deal about this. Nobody gives a shit. This is self-indulgent.

Yet another who qualifies my sobriety. You don’t go to AA. You didn’t have the rockiest of rock bottoms. Who are you to use these words?

I like to be surprised by myself and this voice, the one that qualifies what is and is not for me, has left me smiling in shock.

I’m not unfamiliar with this aspect of myself, I just didn’t realize it’s role in delaying my sobriety until now.

I’ve disqualified myself from many things in life: colleges, jobs, friendship groups, lovers, types of fitness, clothes, professional trainings, achievements, dreams.

Gosh, so many spaces and experiences I’m not allowed to touch.

“Sorry, Katie Beth. That's just the way it is for you.”

This voice likes to call me by names normally reserved for family, suggesting a level of familiarity which allows it to slip beneath the surface of my awareness. Honestly, smart.

It’s not hard for me to see the fear attached to the discounting. “You won’t be accepted. You won’t belong.”