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.”
I can see how scary that is. Rejection. Loneliness. The red-faced shame of being told you’re not wanted, you’re not deserving.
It’s heartbreaking.
I won’t argue with that.
It’s not that I stopped being sensitive to heartbreak, I just reached a point where I felt safe enough to weather the feelings that come with it. What I could no longer face was the kind of death it was to feel that life wasn’t for me to devour, with both hands, with gusto.
Life is for me.
For you.
For us.
I don’t blame the part of me that scans for rejection. I get it.
I do, however, really appreciate it for softening back so the other parts of me could speak. The ones that are hungry for more.
As I’ve said before, “there are two different ways hunger shows up inside of me. One that feels like desperation. Its language is lack and scarcity. This hunger only wants satiation. It wants things complete. Then there is another way I experience hunger. One that is about touching, feeling, experiencing, blooming.”
The best part of early sobriety for me was how incredible I’d feel waking up. It was unreal. Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case anymore. I still wake up feeling like shit some days. That newfound glow fading—it’s no match for aging, the grind of capitalism, rising fascism, and raising a small human, but, but, but, but, what has remained is the most precious of resources: hope.
I believe there is more for me.
To see. To experience. To share. To risk.
To feel.
I can feel the entirety of my sweet, tender heart again. My golden retriever-esque excitement. The fire in my belly—rage, desire, power. The ache in my bones when we miss one another, lose one another, hurt one another. You know that heartbreak my parts were worried about? I feel that too. In the end, it’s OK. I want to. I want to be intimately familiar with myself. All of myself. Even the sharper parts.
People will still ask me, “So never again, huh?”
I just smile and say, “It’s looking that way.”
But inside, I’m buzzing with the peace of knowing you couldn’t pay me to give up how alive I feel.
And the truth, nothing gets you higher than feeling liberated from something. I’m higher than a fucking kite. I’m free.
Questions for you:
Do you relate to this feeling of counting yourself out? Even from things that may be nurturing for you?
What is something you’ve freed yourself from?
All my sober friends, I feel so bolstered by your support and your time. Share your days, months, years, decades below. From day one to 45 years, let’s celebrate each other <3
Coming up: On theme, a piece on how I’m finding freedom from phone addiction, a Let’s Talk Therapy interview with Leslie Stephens (!!!), a round up for paid subscribers on what I read, watched and loved in May, and another piece on what others bring out in us. I’m bursting over here.
Disclaiming: Therapy can be great. This ain’t therapy. 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. I don’t think you could possibly confuse this newsletter with mental health treatment. Alas if that were to happen, let me say definitively, dialoguing is an entertainment and informational newsletter only, not a substitute for mental health treatment. To find a mental health provider, Psychology Today or Zencare can be a place to start.
Come say hi! Any comments, questions, suggestions, please feel free to 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!
Other pieces on sobriety:
The One "No" That Made Space for Hundreds of Yeses (and counting)
What Others Couldn’t See May Have Been The Truest Thing About Me
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a monthly round-up series, say more, where I explore what I'm watching, reading, listening to, eating and moving to and what it made me feel. These newsletters are a labor of love and tend to be more personal in their own specific way—sometimes writing about things I’m grappling with in real time. They have been described as “epic.” One reader said she “devour[s] them like a giant dessert.
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IFS is a modality that believes within all of us are these parts–with different feelings, roles, personalities–some are protectors and some are more wounded. IFS also believes that we have a core self that is confident, calm and compassionate. The model helps people get a sense of these parts and how they relate to one another in order to be more self-led in their lives and experience more peace within themselves.
Love this. 🤍 year 2 in numerology is all about harmony and balance, which feels spot on. Congratulations sister. Love you!
Congrats my dear! Would have loved to share a slice of that cake with you. xo