Mirror Mirror on the Wall

“Stop the blame game. Stop! Stop looking out the window and look in the mirror!” - Eric Thomas

Look in the Mirror? - No, Thank You

Getting sober is the most intense reflection of my life. I have spent so many years in therapy without truly seeing myself. With sober eyes and a sober mind, I am able to finally see myself for who I am and who I can become. But let me tell you. I did not like the initial reflection staring back at me. My initial reaction was pure repulsion. It was…”change the track.” It was…”switch this song.” What I could do to try to skip the first glance in my direction, I was trying to do that. I was avoiding the shit. The nasty shit I had let build up over the years of drinking. And sobriety forced me into the light. I had no choice but to sit and take a long look at who was looking back at me. Was she who I wanted to be?

Siri, Show me my reflection…nope…change reflection

One of the first questions in my recovery journey was to look at myself as if I were to continue down the drinking path. I had to be real. I had to be brutally honest. What would I see in the mirror in five, ten, twenty years? And to be honest, looking back, I know I was as honest as I could be at the time, but now I see how truly guarded I was about my future. I was so afraid of the possible and probable outcomes of my drinking that even when I believed I was looking in the mirror, I was still wearing my rose-colored glasses.

Of course, I thought about death. Drinking can lead to death. Everyone knows this on some level. That is why there are so many laws and rules and restrictions and guidelines surrounding the use of alcohol. Don’t drink and drive. Don’t operate heavy machinery under the influence. Do not drink on the job. Don’t drink past a certain level. There are so many rules in place guarding us from the harm of using alcohol because in reality, in the lightest light, alcohol leads to death. It is a poison. It is used to change ourselves to mask, to hide, to tamp down our inner demons. And in the end, alcohol will win. It will ultimately change who we are on a cellular level and in the end, alcohol will kill us. Slowly but surely.

When I first tried sobriety, I was on a recon-mission. It was the winter of 2021, and I needed a break. During this time, I started to read more and more about the effects of alcohol. I was truly horrified, but in a guarded sense. You know, when you hear bad news about someone somewhere far away that you have never met. Like a distant, distant relative. “Aunt Janie from Hobokan passed away from a rare hereditary disease.” Well, you hear a couple of things when your mom tells you this news. You hear that poor Aunt Janie died. That is sad. You hear, you share a link to this deadly disease through blood. That is scary. But what your brain really hears and really registers is that scariest part. Your brain is built to protect you at all costs. It is meant to keep you in a stable emotional state. So, the brain does what the brain does best, it hears “rare.” It registers, “rare” as the most important information so you can go about your day-to-day life without obsessing about whether you will end up in the ground next to your aunt in Hobokan.

That is how it was to find out that alcohol causes cancer. That is the leading cause of death in women my age and older. I was reading about some aunt across the country, not me. So, I kept drinking. I kept believing in the “rare.” My brain tricked me into believing the worst could not and would not happen to me. It wasn’t until about seven months into my sobriety when I found myself standing at an interview at a restaurant that I saw my future drinking self clearly for the first time. I had taken my rose-colored glasses off a while ago and lost them along the recovery path. And I was able to see her so clearly that my heart broke.

She was sitting at the bar alone. It was early afternoon. She was tired. Her hair was a mess and her skin was depleted. She looked rough. She ordered a double shot and a Mich Ultra (watching the carbs, I am sure). She spoke to the bartenders as if they were old friends. As if they knew her better than most. After her first round, she called out, “You know me, I’ll take another.” The bartender gave her a wink and a nod. I watched her closely. I felt an instant connection to her. Like I was looking into a mirror. I could feel her sadness. It was palpable. She smiled, but her eyes gave her away. They were cold.

This was how she spent her days. She did her thing then at the end of the day, she spent her time sitting at the bar. She joked and laughed with whoever was tending bar and drank. “You know me,” she said. I thought, yes honey, I do know you. I know you better than I wish I did. I know you want a better life. I know you want out of the clutches of alcohol. I know your shame. I know your guilt. I know your pain. And my heart broke for her. The life she is missing while sitting at that bar throwing back shots and sipping that Mich Ultra in hopes for that beach body. I felt immense sadness. But I also felt the most gratitude and pride I have ever felt for myself. It was in those moments watching this woman that I was able to see my old path and know in my heart I am no longer on it. I got out. I survived and am living to tell the tale.

I get more.

I have no idea what this woman’s story was or how her life is really, but I do know I get more. I get my days and my nights back. I am not wasting my time sitting at a bar, on a couch, numbing myself into oblivion. I am living life with wide eyes and bright light so I can see my true reflection and carefully craft my best life. Now, if I have schmutz on my face, I can see and wipe it off before it covers me whole. My reflection is finally real. It is not rose-colored or always what I want to see. Far from it. But that is the point, right? You wake up in the morning and check the mirror so that you can make changes if needed or wanted. If you do that in the dark, you can’t see the shit that needs changing.

Darlin, wash your face.

Your future is worth more. Your life is worth more than sitting at a bar small-talking with strangers that know your name. It may be hard to see right now. You may even like your bar sitting life. I get that. But trust me, living a sober life is so worth all the pain and all the work. It is one decision at a time. Then the next decision. Our lives are meant to be lived to the fullest, but no one can do that for you. No one else can make the changes to get to that best life. Only you. So, please, if you are struggling or curious about this sober living thing. Give your life a chance. I promise you will love what you see in the mirror after you wipe all that shit off of your face and learn to smile again. It takes time. It takes work. But anything worth anything in life takes work, doesn’t it?

Happy sober-living friends! Love you!