It’s Christmas Eve, and I woke up at 12pm again, but I felt an aliveness within me. I let my body sleep until it didn’t need to sleep anymore and woke up with the urge to clean my space to welcome in the new. Clearing out the old brought reflection on this year and all that I have let go of.
My whole life changed this year. It felt like all the foundations I had built my life on were removed. The false hearts of the people around me were revealed, and also the destruction of my own heart. I wish I could say I was happy about this, but I feel a deep sadness. My mind likes to go back and play a fantasy of what could have been, but I know I wouldn’t have been happy if I had stayed.
You see, I’m three years sober, and what they don’t tell you about sobriety is that the longer you go, the more is revealed about what you have built your life around. It becomes very evident why you drank in the first place — not because of other people, but because your self-worth is so low that you accept anything and everything.
When you spend that long harming yourself, it’s not just the substances that have an effect. It’s the people we choose, the environments we stay in, and most of all, our survival strategies to keep ourselves safe. The more sober I become in life, the more that is revealed to me.
I see the way people deny my reality now. I see the small micro facial expressions of the people who don’t really love me. I see gestures that come from guilt. I see the fake smiles, and most of all, I see people’s hearts. I don’t judge, though, because I now understand that nobody is perfect — but you can’t expect to grow in places that don’t want to see your light.
The truth is, yes, this year has been one of the most brutal years I’ve lived — which I find crazy, because I’m no longer in the suffering. Yet so much decay took place this year. So much unravelling of the heart, and so many honest truths that had to be spoken. But on the other hand, it’s been the most beautiful year of my life, witnessing myself for the first time.
For the first time, I got to see myself stand up for my heart. I saw the strength it took for me to walk away from people I truly loved. I saw myself break open, but still choose to let joy in. I witnessed myself pray for the very people who caused harm. I witnessed gifts coming back online that I didn’t even know I had. I witnessed myself create from a place of trust because I was building a firmer foundation within myself.
So yes, this year was painful — but it had to be, for the very woman I’m becoming.
This note is the biggest Christmas gift I could ever ask for: to witness myself blossom into someone I didn’t think was possible for me. Someone who gets excited when I make bread. Someone who takes care of herself and others. Someone who now enjoys wrapping Christmas presents. Someone who prefers staying in and no longer fears missing out. Someone who asks the dog if she’s having a good day. Someone who gets emotional holding a friend’s child. Someone who can’t wait to see what’s in store for her next.
The more sober I become, the more it feels like home.