I would have crashed eventually—there was no way around that—but the COVID-19 pandemic and quarantine accelerated all of it. By August of 2020, alcohol again had me by the throat. I returned to rehab—this time leaving behind a husband and three children. What I hadn’t known at the time was that this second fall—the most brutal of all—would lead to my salvation. Everything about this second rising would be different than the first. Yes, initially it was relearning how to live each day without a drink. But after some time, the real healing began. I learned the truth about alcohol—the science of addiction and the lies we are fed and uphold as a booze-soaked society. I found community and connection, acceptance and accountability, and an unconditional love with myself and others that had been missing for decades. After years of numbing my light and my dark, I rediscovered my laughter, my tears, and my self-worth. Each day in recovery is an opportunity for continued growth. Lately I’ve been taking another look at moderation—only this time it has nothing to do with booze, which clearly can never cross my lips again. Instead, I am examining how I’ve not had boundaries with people, places, and things that screw with my head and heart. Am I still saying yes to invitations that deplete versus sustain me? Am I continuing to let people into my sacred inner space who do not value and honor my heart? Am I continuing to mourn invitations I didn’t receive to events I wouldn’t have wanted to attend anyway? Am I continuing to follow people on social media who make drinking and not me a priority? Am I still hoping for acceptance and validation from people who remind me I am not enough? I am stronger, but I am still human. Moderation in any form can still do damage. Today I have the chance to know better and do better. I can be the friend to myself that I always needed. I no longer pray each day for another chance—each day I live one. I will continue to stumble at times, but I have a community and my own two hands to catch me should I fall. I’ve had to get sober two times—which is now my favorite part of my story. Yes, there have been painful lessons and losses along the way, but I’ve found myself—a woman who is twice blessed with clear eyes, no mask, and two feet firmly planted on the ground.
HOLA SOBER | MADRID
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