Sobriety became something I desired above all else.
If only I could travel back in time to before I quit drinking alcohol, to one of those wretchedly hungover mornings—the kind where I’d be lying in bed at 4 a.m., willing the room to stop spinning, attempting to piece together the night before. But what would I say to my past self? Would I have the strength to look myself in the eye and be completely honest—after yanking the covers off the bed and flinging the curtains open?
I often wonder about this. Maybe I’d say, “Kim, in five years, your life will be completely different. You won’t have the same friends, the same weekend routines, or the same habits you have right now. That’s because alcohol will no longer be a part of your life. So put your big-girl pants on because it’s going to be rough in the beginning. There will be some big-time successes and some major lows. Yet, despite the rocky start, it will be so much better once you get your feet on the ground. Stick with it. Don’t give up. It’s so much brighter on the other side. You will be infinitely happier and so much more content with who you are as a person. Your marriage will be stronger, and your family will be better off having a sober mom. Be willing to embrace this huge change. Without alcohol, you will discover that you can finally be yourself. You will finally experience a joy you’ve never felt before. Just be willing and open to it all.”
Sadly, I’m not sure I would have listened to my own words of advice back then, let alone anyone else’s counsel if they had tried to help me or encourage me to stop drinking at the height of my addiction. And if I’d had a glimpse into my future, I probably would have been devastated. The thought of letting go of alcohol would have sent me spiraling, running straight to the nearest bar. And the idea of losing my friends? I wouldn’t have been able to picture my life without them. Even the thought of facing all these changes without booze would have felt unbearable, causing me to lean into my alcoholism even more.
In my drinking days, I was constantly racked with a sense of persistent anxiety, my body pulsing with an electric current of uncertainty and fear. So it would have been hard to envision my future as joyful or anything resembling happiness. I didn’t know how to interact in any social setting without alcohol, relying on it to feel confident and safe. The thought of having to leave my house to socialize without the magical elixir of booze coursing through my veins would have frightened me to the core.
In those days, I was uninterested in the fact that alcohol was a poison. It didn’t concern me that I drank to the point of blacking out every night, and I didn’t mind the daily, raging hangovers. My only focus was chasing the buzz and numbing my brain every single day to the point of escape.
So how did I finally embrace sobriety and find the courage to stop drinking? I’ve been trying to figure out the answer to this question for quite some time now.
A friend recently had a significant stretch of sober time after completing Dry January. She felt great after not drinking for over thirty days, but she then decided that a sober lifestyle was not sustainable for her and went back to drinking shortly thereafter. Even though she believed she’d probably benefit from sobriety in the long term, she knew she couldn’t maintain it forever.
Ultimately, she felt pressured to choose between having a social life and prioritizing her physical well-being. Unfortunately, she believed she couldn’t have both and ultimately chose her friendships over her health and wellness. She missed hanging out with “the girls” too much and felt she couldn’t do that without drinking.
Hearing this really saddened me because I wanted her to keep going. But this was her decision. A big part of me also understood her plight, as I’d been in her shoes at one point. For so long, I remember feeling torn between maintaining a social life of drinking and choosing a lifestyle of sobriety. I didn’t know how to be around my friends without being drunk. I was unsure of myself and my place in the group. I second-guessed every word that came out of my mouth and worried about what people thought of me unless I was drinking. For so long, I felt as if alcohol was the only way to belong. And finding a way to fit in took precedence over my own self-respect and personal happiness. Alcohol had come to define me.
No one could have told me to stop drinking. It was a choice I needed to make on my own. I had to come to the realization that alcohol was no longer something I wanted to battle with. I needed to decide that the pain, self-loathing, and personal anguish just weren’t worth the late nights out with the ladies anymore.
I was hopeful that my friendships would remain the same and that I could maintain both my social life and sobriety. But soon after, those relationships inevitably began to shift. I was at a crossroads and realized that I couldn’t continue to surround myself with people who didn’t respect my choice to quit drinking. Maintaining my sobriety was of paramount importance to me—it was a matter of self-preservation. This was a painful realization; however, I had to make a change, and that meant distancing myself from certain people and situations.
The decision to prioritize my health above certain friendships was not an easy one. It required a deep and honest evaluation of my social circles, leading to some difficult choices. Some friends were supportive and understanding, while others continued to engage in behaviors that were detrimental to my well-being.
So, how did I finally get to that place of change and acceptance?
I discovered a willingness to change, and sobriety became something I desired above all else. It became my priority.
Change can be daunting, especially when it involves giving up something that has become a central part of life. For me, alcohol provided a sense of comfort, familiarity, and connection to others. Letting go of that felt like losing a part of myself. Recognizing and acknowledging these fears and anxieties did not come easily. It’s taken a great deal of hard work and patience over the last several years. But what I’ve gained in return is so much bigger. So much better.
Breaking free from the grip of alcohol required readiness. I had to find the inclination to finally confront the things that led to my current state of despair. I needed to be willing to explore the notion that perhaps this drastic life change could actually make things better. I had to be prepared to walk away from certain friendships. I had to personally admit that I was powerless over the thing that had controlled me for most of my life, and that was the only way I’d be able to take my power back.
I had to want to do the hard work and face what I was dealing with. For me, that meant admitting that I was an alcoholic. I had to understand the extent to which alcohol had controlled me all my life. I needed to challenge my deeply ingrained belief that I required alcohol to have fun. I began to finally look at what my drinking was doing to me, my kids, and my husband, analyzing the negative impact it had on my entire world. I had to recognize that true happiness and fulfillment lay beyond alcohol’s grasp.
It also involved accepting that change, while often uncomfortable, is necessary for growth and transformation. It was about recognizing that the short-term discomfort of change is often outweighed by the long-term benefits of a healthier and more fulfilling life.
It took a great deal of time for me to find the willingness to let go of the hold alcohol had on me. So, when I think about confronting my past self—that hungover version of me, head pounding, curled up in bed in the fetal position—it never would have worked. She would have fought and argued her way out of it. She would have stubbornly convinced herself that she could moderate or that “it wasn’t that bad.”
The justifications were endless. The reasons were limitless. But eventually, I ran out of excuses. Change can never be forced; it has to be embraced willingly.
This process was gradual and required a profound shift in perspective. I had to confront the reality that lasting change cannot be imposed from the outside; it must be embraced from within. It was only when I truly acknowledged the detrimental effects of alcohol on my life, understood the pain and darkness I was perpetually living in, and recognized the potential for a brighter future that I was able to embark on the path towards true recovery.
How about you?
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- What role has willingness to change played in your sobriety journey?
- What helped you reach a place of willingness to embrace change?
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