Jan 2

Jan 2 Dry January and The Path to Self-Acceptance

Five years ago I would have thought the idea of Dry January was insane. (Why torture yourself for a month when life itself could be torturous year-round???)

Now, at four-and-a-half-years sober, I feel a little thrill at the thought of Dry January; at the thought that maybe some collectively repressed hope has resurfaced, the thought that someone else might find themselves down a path with the power to shift their life in beautiful and unexpected ways. (This, I would imagine, must be how Mormon missionaries feel when they knock and you open the door.)

“What I’ve found, that I am not sure would be obvious in a month of sobriety, is that the impact of this process, is exponential, that life can become not only tolerable, but legitimately joyful - and it just keeps getting better.”

— Amanda Sheeren

For me, sobriety was a process of learning to tolerate the discomfort of existence (of being me) then shifting my life (and myself) until it all felt a bit more tolerable. I was fortunate to already be in therapy at this time; to have already begun examining all the undiagnosed mental health conditions I’d amassed and subsequently mistaken as whimsical quirks and unique eccentricities.

(It should be noted here, that sober curiosity and the need for recovery are not one and the same. For anyone struggling to get sober and in need of medical intervention, please consult your doctors, therapists, trusted support system. Bryony Gordon wrote a great article for anyone who is in that boat and struggling to stay afloat. It might be a great place to start.)

What I’ve found, that I am not sure would be obvious in a month of sobriety, is that the impact of this process, is exponential, that life can become not only tolerable, but legitimately joyful, and it just keeps getting better.

Of course I’d found joy prior to sobriety. I had a built a life, a family, had great friends, was doing interesting work. I’d succeeded in so many of the ways we are taught to strive for, but the truth was, beneath the surface, I was still struggling. At some point, I knew there was more for me (more to sift through, more to feel, more to experience) and the dulling haze of alcohol simply wouldn’t allow me to arrive there.

*Congrats on Your Sobriety postcard from Okay Yeah Design and Sans Bar*

Few other choices have catapulted me towards well-being so forcefully as sobriety. And, like so many things that are good for us, few other choices have made me so uncomfortable. I will never forget the first days and weeks of sobriety, the first social gatherings and family get togethers, the first girls nights. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, my feet, my face, my words, the pulsing dread coursing through my veins. It wasn’t until I’d removed it, that I realized how much I’d depended on alcohol to manage my anxiety. There were many moments in early sobriety where I felt raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. The very facade I’d created around myself (the fun and funny and care-free one) was forced to crumble. This deconstruction, I realize now, was pivotal.

By removing alcohol, I was able to meet myself (like, my actual self…the one I spent so much time running from) and in doing so, granted myself the opportunity to grapple with all the nuance and complexity that comes along with being human.

Seeing ourselves, as we are, without any filter, can be an overwhelming experience. My guess is, for any of you who are exploring Dry January, there will be a moment where you’re forced to meet yourself, maybe for the first time in a long time. The decision to maintain your sobriety after this point, is the decision to welcome the challenge of accepting the person you’ve met (with all of their flaws and shortcomings). I am not sure how scientific this is, but I think many people who have been sober for a long time will agree: sobriety and self-acceptance go hand in hand. And while one can exist without the other, they really do pair well together.

There are so many ways we hide ourselves away, make ourselves small, abandon ourselves. I think the reason I feel so hopeful about movements like Dry January is that I see it as an opportunity to turn all of that around. Sure maybe this won’t be your last attempt at getting sober, maybe it will be the first of many, but that doesn’t mean the work you do this month won’t be a powerful start towards something more impactful in your life. If we can take this time to shift our perspective a bit, I think we can welcome it as an opportunity to show up for ourselves in a totally new way. Dry January really is less about abstaining from alcohol and more about welcoming everything that comes with the clarity of sobriety, including the opportunity to rediscover ourselves.

Whether this journey lasts for 31 days, or 90, or 365, I hope you’re able to be gentle with yourself as you navigate it, because it really is about so much more than avoiding alcohol.

And if, in the process of heading down this new path, you get the chance to meet some forgotten version of yourself, I hope you’re able to do so with the same kindness you reserve for the people you love the most in this world. Falling back into yourself can be hard. You deserve a gentle landing.

If you are participating in Dry January and need some solidarity and entertainment, here are a few fun lists to help pull you through the month. Please take them lightly and feel free to share them with any of your friends who might be participating in Dry January along with you! For more resources and ridiculousness, you can follow me at The Sober Illustrator on instagram!