My sobriety is, as of today, old enough to vote. It's old enough to send to college, old enough to be legally married, old enough to serve in the armed forces. It's old enough, believe it or not, to drink in Alberta, Quebec, and Manitoba.
Exactly eighteen years ago today, I woke up, took a long look at a tumbler of scotch by my bedside, and decided not to drink it.
I don't know why I didn't; I don't think I knew in that moment that I never again would.
Eighteen years. Sobriety's been a part of my life for me so long that I struggle to remember what it was like without it.
I remember events, and anecdotes. Flashes of experience, like someone else's old home movie. But I don't really remember being that person who needed to drink to feel normal. I'm not her anymore.
But I was. And that's what makes me an alcoholic.
Quitting drinking was the hardest thing I've ever done. I forget that sometimes, because it was so long ago. The days when it was a conscious decision - sometimes on an hourly basis - to not drink are far behind me. Now it's just part of who I am, like my green eyes or my delight in the absurd.
I only know my own story, and I'll tell it to anyone who wants to listen. But for now, I'll just say this: getting sober's hard. But I promise you it gets easier. I promise you.
I promise you.
|I'm Alexis, and I've been sober eighteen years.|