What Does 40 Years of Sobriety Look Like?

Yep. That’s me in the photo. Sitting here a week before my 40th sober anniversary from quitting alcohol and all mind altering substances.

And I mean all. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Except for the two-second free high administered by a bespectacled anesthesiologist right before my rotator cuff surgery a few years ago.

That’s the problem with getting high. It doesn’t last. For me, there’s always the high potential of an immediate blackout. And it is no fun trying to remember the fun I supposedly had.

Now, four decades in, I am awake for most things, especially for feelings. To some of you, the mention of feelings might induce a shudder of nausea, but wait. Don’t chuck it just yet. Just feel whatever you are feeling right now.

A lot of what my good sober life looks like today has come from trying to keep down, avoid, manage, control, change, minimize, maximize, stepover, squash, stomp on, dissociate from — and feel — feelings. Sometimes I want to do the same with your feelings, too.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a little baffled, fearful and courageous, all at the same time. This would be a “mixed feeling” situation. Want to explore with me?

Let’s start with baffled.

Someone who decorates purses and sandals described me as “aloof” (but not to my face). I told this to a close friend of mine, and she said, “But you are. Look here, Merriam Webster defines aloof as “removed or distant, either physically or emotionally.”

I’ve never seen myself as removed or distant. I don’t feel removed from the aloof comment at all, even though it’s been a few years since I got wind of this apparent trait of mine I don’t see.

I do feel a bit unseen and disconnected at times, though. That said…

I am earnestly engaged and positively obsessive, especially when it comes to recovery and creating positive love in relationships. My dictionary citing friend knows this, and although she does not consider me aloof with her, she observes I come across this way with others. Apparently, a “stay away” vibe emanates from my being because I’m not particularly chatty about studded handbags or glittery flip flops.

This close friend, on the other hand, admits she encourages all kinds of banter and small talk, but on the inside feels disingenuous — she often doesn’t want the relationships she seems to invite. And believe me, people flock to her. She’s basically a bubbly people magnet.

You recovery people might be thinking, as my friend and I did: Our insides don’t always match our outsides. True, but still, what to do with the baffle?

I guess more will be revealed, but in the meantime, I’m open to engagement with anyone who wants to discuss the meaning of self-actualization, how to do it, and what prevents us from attaining it in recovery.

Which brings me to fear.

Those in recovery know fear all too well.

More is always revealed when I take the time to answer the question, “What am I afraid of?”

I’m tempted to edit my answer here, because frankly, it’s embarrassing. And embarrassment, my absolute least favorite of all feelings, is best tucked away in the old shed in my yard, somewhere near awkward and humiliated. Along with some musty, outdated thoughts, too, like:

I’m afraid no one likes me.

But that’s not even the real truth.

So try again:

I’m afraid the people I want to like me don’t like me.

Now I’m being selective about the people, as if there is some special ranking I’ve bestowed on certain persons.

I suppose I should add judgmental to my list of feelings — because how dare I rank people when I believe we all stand equal in the eyes of a Higher Power.

Still, the people I want to notice me — and like me — tower in prominent (albeit nondescript) locus above others — those out of focus others that have the gall to call me aloof.

Joi, stop with the smug. What is your fear?

I’ve spent the past 40 years sorting out what I know a thriving recovery entails, and, here goes:

I am afraid I will fail in communicating this to people who suffer from addiction (or a dry sobriety). Especially since I’ve had mounds of communication training.

And this, with the absence of likes and engagement on my Instagram, all adds up to: I’m not worthy because I’m invisible. An invisible woman.

So, what’s a fearful, sober, unnoticeable girl to do?

Think about what courage means.

Quotes on courage abound. After googling, I’ve settled on a few:

“He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.” —Muhammad Ali

I want to accomplish something: I want to contribute to a more love-filled world. The risks I’ll need to take to accomplish this? Read on.

“Faced with what is right, to leave it undone shows a lack of courage.” — Confucius

I definitely don’t want to lack courage, and I know what is right in the world of recovery from addiction. At least for me.

What is right then, for me? To continue sharing my relationship with recovery, and what it takes to live a meaningful life, drenched in love and caring. I don’t want to leave this undone.

Which brings us to:

“Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.” —Dale Carnegie

Having courage seems to all boil down to doing the footwork, which for me, is writing this blurb in honor of my 40 sober years on the planet, and reporting honestly where my thoughts and feelings really are — in this moment.

Recovery from addiction requires we be honest and that we “give it away to keep it.” So I’ve given you a slice of what it’s like to be a sober, ever-actualizing me, living free in the cycle of recovery.

And, it’s risky for this solitary introvert to openly share in this way. People may snicker and judge, or maybe even think me aloof. Oh well. I’m going to publish anyway, wrinkles and all.

So what about you? What thoughts and feelings have you unpacked in recovery? Are you living in the middle of your life? Do you have the courage to be YOU? If yes:

What is right, then, for you? What don’t you want to leave undone?

Doesn’t matter how long you have been sober, in recovery, you get to be YOU. Let your soul come out and play.