Musings from a sober anniversary

Last weekend, we spent our 12th wedding anniversary in San Francisco. We stayed at the Mark Hopkins, and took in a Giants game and the Immersive Van Gogh Exhibition. In between the two, we had appetizers and drinks at the Top of the Mark, the place where my husband proposed.

This venue, with its panoramic view of the city and the bay, obviously holds a special place in my heart. But part of me didn’t want to return because my memories were so weighed down with chilled Gray Goose martinis. The celebration weekend he proposed was a very boozey one (weren’t they all). This made me think, once again, about how alcohol is so synonymous with celebration.

Turns out I shouldn’t have hesitated because the Top of the Mark has a mocktail menu (maybe I didn’t notice before??) and I had a beautiful $12 drink in a chilled fancy glass. I think that more restaurants should add mocktails to their beverage offerings because of the profit margin. It was the most expensive sparkling water, cranberry, lemon, lime drink I’ve ever had…but to me worth every penny.

I ended up having a great time, at the restaurant, at the art exhibit, and at the baseball game. But all around me were people drinking, and drinking heavily. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been anywhere in a while because I usually don’t dwell on that fact of life, but it really seemed to be in my face. The rooftop cocktail bar as you leave the art exhibit. The couples and groups of friends at the Top of the Mark. The baseball game where people milled around double fisting $20 mixed drinks beer and acting belligerent.

Of course then I pictured my drinking self at all of these venues and cringed at how ugly the night would have turned out. Instead, I had fun. I mindfully enjoyed being immersed in the art and life of a tragic, talented man. I savored the fig, and goat cheese flatbread with a balsamic finish at the restaurant, along with my fancy alcohol-free drink. And I loved having a front row seat to the Gaints, where I sat with my coffee drink and Ghirardelli Sundae and actually watched the game.

And the conclusion I came to about all the drinking going on around me is it’s the easy way. The non-thinking way. I used to be in that way, and I couldn’t really tell you why at the time. Because we think it’s easier not to process hard emotions or manufacture enjoyment. Have a drink. It will solve everything. And perhaps it is easier in that we shift into autopilot and we are there, taking part, but not really there.

The hard part about sobriety is learning to process and deal with the thoughts and feelings that prompt us to drink in the first place. Most people go through life without doing that kind of work. If you do, though, you will be amazed by your growth; by the self-knowledge and awareness you acquire on your journey. It’s like completing a mental marathon, and most aren’t up for the mission.

This is where the uncomfortable process of getting to know yourself unfolds. Most people don’t do the kind of hard work required to go through life unaltered by substances. We are a quick fix society and reaching for the fix is what lands us in the depths.

So, if I could have a heart-to-heart with any of the numerous people I saw last weekend who were physically at some pretty awesome places but not really taking anything in due to heavy drinking, here’s what I’d say:

You have to be willing to sit with yourself and your thoughts. Be uncomfortable. And see that you survive. And after many days of surviving, you will see that you are more than okay, you are thriving. Because you are completing the mental marathon. You didn’t run away, but through. You didn’t settle for the quick fix that makes everything worse, but instead opened the story that is you and read it start to finish. Through the good parts and the bad, the startlingly ugly and the achingly beautiful. You know your story because you had the courage to live it and process it and not blot it out. To not erase your story…but be your story.

Most people don’t do that kind of work. But those who do find the place where the light lives.

Let there be light.