Celebrating 18 Months Sober: From Numbing to Truly Feeling

This last week, I celebrated 18 months on my alcohol free journey. It almost doesn’t feel real to be saying that. 18 months is a long time.

Deciding to discontinue drinking alcohol was not a decision made easily. It was something I thought about for years, like it was on a trial run, where I’d dip my toes into this lifestyle, get a little taste of what it was like to live a few weeks without it. But then give in to each craving I had. And it’s all part of the journey.

All of this was happening during a pivotal time in my life. I was remembering who I was, maybe for the first time. My anxiety had gone through the roof. I was processing so much around me, that the alcohol became a bit of a distraction and a bit of a crutch to make it through each week.

And the statement I just made above, is pretty normalized and tolerated in our society. We are taught that alcohol is how you relax, decompress, or even treat yourself. And this may be normalized and true for a lot people. It just wasn’t true for me.

My story starts back in college. Starting off my freshman year as a high schooler who didn’t party much, it felt as if I never quite learned moderation. It was like I was so naive and oblivious to the party scene, that once I got a glimpse of it, it was all I wanted to do. And this part of me took over for most of my college years.

I look back on those years in college almost like I’m still putting the pieces together. There are so many moments I look back and feel a smile across my face, but there are a lot of moments that still feel like a pit in my stomach. There’s many moments where I remember I prioritized drinking over my well being. I prioritized it over my schoolwork or even showing up to class. Not really caring what grades I got as long as I passed. I prioritized it over my friendships, which breaks my heart. Because I remember not really caring who I hung out with, as long as we could consume alcohol. And that determined who I spent my time with, even if we weren’t that great of friends. I remember staying by myself in my college apartment was my worst nightmare. So any nights I was alone, or my roommates were out of town, I would consume alcohol to feel better, to feel less alone. I remember studying abroad, and being so uncomfortable in a brand new country, I consumed a lot more alcohol than I was used to, so then maybe I’d feel a little more at ease, or a little more at home. I remember going to bed on weeknights, not knowing if I would sleep because I was sober. I was afraid to fall asleep without anything in my system forcing me to pass out. So, that’s what I did. And spoiler alert, this was of living never fixed the emotions I was trying to escape from. It only heightened them.

It was around my junior year of college that I knew something needed to shift. I felt myself in this deep dark hole that I had no idea how to come out of. Like a deep feeling of sadness. Of emptiness and numbness. Shame. I thought, there has to be more to life than this. More than partying every weekend and most weeknights too. It felt like there was no way out. No way to catch a break. It almost felt confusing - this college lifestyle that’s sold to us as the greatest years of our lives, that leads to so much fun, the craziest nights, it all felt like a lie. Because I felt the worst I’d felt in years. But I kept thinking to myself, there’s only a few years left. You can do it, you can keep up. You can keep pushing through.

Today, I’ve learned, that these thought patterns are related to addiction. Knowing you need to stop, but you can’t.

And the universe has a funny was of redirecting us when we’ve strayed from our intended path.

In early 2020, while studying abroad, I started having auto-immune symptoms. Dizziness, vertigo, nausea, just to name a few. Navigating the doctor all alone in a new country and in a language I didn’t speak well was the scariest part of it all. Not really knowing if they knew what I was trying to say, I was prescribed some meds and went on my way. Somehow, those meds did the trick for the remainder of my trip. To this day, I am still not sure what they gave me or how it stopped the symptoms just long enough to wrap up my time abroad. Not long after arriving back home, these symptoms came back in full force. I remember going numb. Frozen. I stopped going to class. I stopped driving my car. I stopped exercising. I stopped cooking for myself. I was afraid to take a shower, because after a few minutes, I’d become light headed and thought I was going to faint. I mostly stayed in my bed. I would try to push through, but it got so hard to keep pretending. I felt defeated. Hopeless. Doctor after doctor, there was not really a name for what was going on, not really a cure for it, just a lot of symptoms that left a lot of doctors confused. No one could figure it out. No one knew what had caused it. They asked a lot of questions, but nothing really felt like it was quite hitting the nail on the head. It took some time before there were answers.

So, in the meantime, my drinking increased.

These symptoms were so uncomfortable and unfathomable, that the only time I felt relief was when I was partying and consuming alcohol. It actually got a whole lot worse before it took a turn for the better. I kept drinking my way through the symptoms, because in that tiny little window where I felt that numbness, I didn’t feel dizzy. I didn’t feel light headed or like the room was spinning. I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out. I was completely cut off from my body. And I liked it that way. So, I craved that tiny bit of numbness to get me through the day. Just so I could forget about how I was feeling for a little while.

Then I started being hit with a lot of hard truths. I realized I needed to move back home with my parents and prioritize my health. As someone with chronic FOMO in college, this was a nightmare. I began going to more specialists, physical therapists, and eventually, they named these symptoms as vestibular neuritis. An inner-ear inflammation, creating feelings of vertigo, off-balance, dizziness, and headaches. Physical therapy was when I started to feel better. I began going to acupuncture regularly, seeing a new therapist, and meditating. I’m going to be honest though, at first I was so resistant to it. It made me angry, to talk about my feelings. I remember my therapist telling me that maybe these symptoms were happening because my body is tired. It’s exhausted. It wants to rest, reset, and live differently. My body was trying to communicate with me. But I didn’t want to hear it. I was in pure denial for a little while. I couldn’t imagine changing my lifestyle. I felt like I’d built myself up to be the fun, party friend and the fear of being anything different was unimaginable. Plus, I liked it that way. I had a hard exterior, was emotionally unavailable, and loved to pretend everything was always fine. Until I couldn’t anymore.

And there was a feeling deep down inside of me, buried under years of numbness and denial, where I knew these hard truths I was hearing, I knew they were actually true to me. I knew how tired I was. I knew how many bottled up emotions I’ve shoved down for years and years and years. I knew I had some unprocessed traumas and life events that led to me numbing everything in the first place. And most of all, I knew I wanted to try to feel better. So slowly but surely, I began to show up. To therapy. For myself. It all felt so sticky at first. I’d feel okay sometimes, and then I’d feel like numbing out. My health would feel better, then it would decline again. It was a push and pull that dictated my life for another year or so. But it was around this time I wondered what life would feel like without alcohol. I thought there was no way it would be possible to make that kind of change. Life revolves around drinking, I thought. Every holiday, every event, every party. But I let myself continue revisiting it. I don’t even know if I necessarily let myself revisit it - I think it just kept coming up. Over and over again. Like a quiet whisper, another inner knowing I knew eventually I was going to have to face.

For the next few years, each time I drank, I noticed it was because I already felt nervous or sad, and was trying to cover up a feeling. Like I never knew how to enjoy alcohol from a place of already feeling good about myself. Because when I did feel good, I didn’t want to drink. I only learned to consume as a way to escape, to mask, or to pretend. To stay in denial. I continued wondering what it would feel like to show up to these events and not feel like I have to rely on any substances. I dreamed what it would feel like to just show up as myself. And be authentic in that way. I started drinking less and less, maybe moderating, but still never could trust myself in the end. It felt like even though I was consuming less, I was still unpredictable. I was never sure if I’d be able to drive home at the end of the night, despite wanting to hold myself to that standard. And I’d feel so sad about that. I really did want to trust myself. This became the era of trying to go a few weeks without consuming alcohol, then would cave a few weeks later. A push and pull kind of lifestyle, that eventually just became draining.

Fast forward to January of 2023, I tried out a dry January from the help of a few alcohol-free and sober friends I’ve met along the way. It was rocky, for awhile, but the hardest part was telling people. It was saying no when offered a drink. It was the whole concept of staying true to myself and what I knew was best for me. That in itself, was the hardest part. I think I felt a lot of shame around this, that maybe I failed, I never learned how to drink properly, or that when everyone was having fun partying, I created so many stories in my head that maybe everyone else thought I was crazy. That I didn’t fit in anymore. That I had a problem. Maybe they didn’t want me there. In these moments that I dreamed of feeling empowering, really felt full of shame, like a little dog with its tail wrapped between its legs. Like, now you see me for who I really am, and I victimized myself without even knowing.

After a successful dry January, I grew tired of taking myself so seriously and feeling like a victim. So I caved again - moderating here and there, falling back into denial.

It was funny how it all came to be, because it was just one morning that I made plans to help a friend move out of her apartment. And I woke up with a horrific hangover. I was exhausted, nauseous, and in that exact moment, I realized I didn’t want to be the friend that canceled last minute anymore or the friend that couldn’t follow through or be reliable because I was so wrapped up in my own drama. I wanted to show up. I knew I was going to show up no matter what circumstance to help my friend move. And I had to deal with the consequences. In that moment, I knew that would be the last hangover I had for awhile. I was tired of not feeling good. Tired of not trusting myself. I made a commitment that day to myself. I committed to an alcohol free lifestyle, for one year. To build a solid relationship with myself. To give myself a chance. To work through my shame and release the victim mentality. To let myself feel good, and just see how it goes. Honestly, maybe not the smartest way to go about it. But I think I just knew that was what I wanted. I was tired of not following through on that promise to myself. It was not who I wanted to be anymore. So here we are, at 18 months, through the ups and downs, definitely not an easy ride - but one that’s been worth it in ways I can’t even explain yet.

Sometimes, there are things we know we have to do, but are simply not ready for. And if there’s anything I learned along the way, its that our bodies are always gently nudging us in the right direction. Our bodies have a way of softly letting us know what we truly desire, the lifestyle we want to live, and the choices to make. We can avoid it or shove it down as much as we want, but life will find a way, every single time, to realign us on the right path. Every day, I wake up and recommit to myself and walk towards the life I am building. It’s probably the longest commitment I’ve ever made in my entire life. But life will show you a beautiful way of living when you follow your heart. When you stay true to yourself. Venturing into the unknown, especially when you know it’s the right choice for you, whether it involves alcohol or not, when you let it, life will reveal to you everything you never thought was possible. And it’s not easy, it’s a choice you make day in and day out.

For me, it was the choice to join a support system, that led to a loving community, that led to an amazing friends that have girls nights, dance parties, go on camping trips and music festivals, completely alcohol-free. Just a few years ago, I never would have thought this was possible. And any time I doubt myself, I remember that this was the life and community I dreamed of for so long. I think I dreamed of it before I was even aware I was dreaming it. And I’m so grateful. Community truthfully is everything. It’s my rock.

I’m sharing this not just for myself, but for anyone out there who is a little lost on their alcohol journey. It can be complex, confusing, triggering, and such a taboo or sensitive topic to discuss. But at the same time, it can be full of joy, love, and freedom. Remember that everyone’s journey with substances is different. It’s a relationship so personal not one will ever replicate another. So, it’s up to you, how you want to define it. It’s on you, no one can do it for you. How you want to live it. And what feels the most authentic to you where you are at right now.

And trust what you feel. Maybe take the risk. Know you have so much to offer, and so much life to live. Maybe give something a trial run. Because there is so much more waiting on the other side.

We’ll chat again soon,

Vanessa