How Self Care Changes When You’re Sober

Yesterday, I was sick enough to take a day off work. My daughter and I both have a rather nasty cough (but not Covid). I texted my dad that I was home and he didn’t need to come let our dogs out, something he does for us since we work and he’s retired and loves our dogs. The “I’m home sick” text took me back to the days when I stayed home from work, too hungover or mentally defeated to get through the day. In those days, when my dad inquired about the illness, I said it was a “mental health day.”

Now, I rarely truly need a mental health day, though that is not to say I’m against taking them or that my mental health issues have vanished with sobriety. I still find myself struggling with anxiety or depression from time to time, but not to the extent where I feel I can’t cope. Or maybe my coping skills are more effective now that I don’t turn to a bottle. Honestly, I felt a little disappointed when I had to turn back to an anti-anxiety medication after a few years of sobriety, hopeful that not drinking would magically solve all my problems. I think my sober friends know that this is not the case, but what’s different is that we now know better how to take care of ourselves than we did when we were drinking.

In my drinking years, self-care meant nursing a hangover. Laying around the next day, doing nothing productive. Taking a nap, eating a heavy, unhealthy meal. Self-care meant pushing down the regret and self-loathing caused by drinking so it wouldn’t surface and consume me. Self-care was correcting any offenses or missteps committed the night before by sending a light-hearted text to gauge the response. Are we good? Will you continue to put up with my inebriated blunders another day? And then, as the evening grew near, self-care included imbibing the very “medicine” that made me sick in the first place. Ah, the insanity. I don’t miss it.

These days, self-care looks more like what it should. When I wake up, I spend time with God to lay the foundation for my day. When I’m tired, I take a nap. When I need nurturing, I turn to a good book. When I need connection, I set up a coffee date with a friend, or dinner out with my husband. When I’m stressed, I exercise. When I’m sore or exhausted, I take a hot, lavender bubble bath or do a yoga stretch routine. When I’m dehydrated, I drink water infused with fruit. When I need a lift, I turn on my essential oil diffuser. When I feel anxious, I meditate and practice breathing exercises. When I have space to fill, I do something creative. It’s all so intuitive; and I love knowing how to respond to what I need.

So essentially, self-care is now what it’s supposed to be. This process is learned in sobriety as we heal and grow and figure out what works. It’s a response to having used for years, something that doesn’t work. Self-care shouldn’t mean recovering, physically and mentally, from the damage you do to yourself. It should be an intuitive process of responding to your needs throughout the day in ways that make you feel good. It can only come from a place of truly knowing yourself, and what you need to thrive, or at the very least, humbly make it through a messed-up day.

I am grateful that, halfway through my life, I am finally learning how to truly take care of myself. How to love myself rather than be my own worst enemy. That I realize taking care of my mental health is just as important as my physical health. And, just like physical health, being healthy mentally takes intention and maintenance, not numbing and abuse. This insight to the self is another gift of sobriety; a gift I am eager to both embrace and pass on.

So if you are still in the place where taking care of yourself means a day on the couch with greasy food, consider this your invitation to the other side. The place where you are worthy of knowing who you are and what you need to feel good.