No, I’m not talking about my marriage. I’ve been married for more than seven, in fact almost nine years now, and tbh married life really just keeps getting better; we love each other more now than we did on our wedding day, and he is the whole reason I’m here to even write this silly post.

Because what I’m referring to is: my soberversary! 🥳 Yep, it’s that time of year again, time for my annual blog post about being sober. Later this month, in just a matter of days here, I will (hopefully, that is — must never take a single day for granted!) have seven years alcohol-free.

Wow! Seven years. They say every cell in your body dies and is renewed over a period of seven years, so if that’s true, I’m basically a whole new Mith now, a Mith that has never been addicted to booze.

Except, we all know that’s not really true. I addressed this a little bit in my recent post on St. Mark Ji, patron saint of addicts and those in recovery – but, I am finding that, now, almost seven years in, I actually feel the proximity of my addicted self in a more real way than I did at four, five, or six years.

What I mean is, the possibility of going back feels more real now than it did then. I’ll be in the grocery store and walk by the wine endcap and, while formerly I’d avert my eyes or just glance at it smugly because I knew I didn’t need it, now my gaze lingers a bit and I observe the varieties and their prices, and I think: “I could just do it! It would be so easy. No one’s stopping me. I’d feel so much better.”

Luckily, it’s never been a serious thought; just a whisper that I acknowledge and ignore. The seven-year itch, maybe. But the existence of this itch, this whisper, does make me realize how thin the line is, between here and there. It’s virtually nonexistent. Technically, nothing is stopping me. It would really be so easy.

So how has it not happened yet? Maybe it’s because I’ve simply gotten in the habit now of not drinking. I no longer have to work hard to not drink, therefore I don’t think about staying sober all the time like I used to. It’s not usually on my mind. So when the thought of drinking arises, it’s a surprise, like “oh, right! I could do that!”. So in a way, being in this routine, this habit, is a liability, of which I must remain mindful.

But being in the habit of not drinking is a good thing, too, though — obviously! The thought of drinking is no longer an automatic response. This past December, my best friend unexpectedly died, and needless to say, that hit hard. But I realized, about two or three weeks after, that, while coping with that loss, it had never even occurred to me to think of drinking. It just didn’t even cross my mind that drinking might help.

Which is wild! The last time I endured a great tragedy in sobriety was a pregnancy loss in 2020, when I was not yet two years sober, and at that time I was absolutely tantruming like a toddler because my husband refused to grant me permission to get drunk. I simply couldn’t fathom feeling that much sadness without some kind of medication. I got through it, but best believe I was thinking about booze constantly and complaining every second of the way. But, look at me now. Out here doing life, hard parts and all, with zero medication and no psychoactive drugs of any kind. Just totally exposed to all the elements. Look Ma, no substances. Experiencing all of it unfiltered.

Which is hard to do! It may not be my first instinct anymore, to reach for a drink, but sometimes it is my second or third. There are times when it would really help. At those times, what’s standing between me and a drink? It would be so easy. What is stopping me?

In meetings they say: God’s grace.

If you hang out with me here regularly, you know I don’t go to meetings anymore. But looking back, I’m really glad that I had the desire to dry up, and that I found the meetings, back then, in my mid-twenties, back when I was more teachable, more easily-impressed. More willing to change. Now, at 36, I’m no longer blown off my feet when someone utters anything mildly profound or relatable. When I first started in AA, I was floored! All these personal stories of recovery, all this wisdom! 🤯 But, my shell has grown thicker over the years, and I’ve retreated deeper into it. I’m not as awestruck anymore. Not as trusting. I know more stuff about more stuff. I’m pretty sure that if I discovered AA for the first time now, it’d just strike me as cringey and drippy and tired. So, it’s a good thing all that content penetrated into my brain when it did. At my current age, I’d surely be pretty resistant to it. And at my current age, I’m too old to go through early sobriety again.

It would seem that something is working for me. What is it?

I was at the right place, right time. Dumb luck. God’s grace? Idk. But also: building a routine, and living in fear of negative consequences. Getting used to being uncomfortable, all kinds of uncomfortable, in all kinds of different situations. To just having less “fun.” Those are the secrets. It’s about as glamorous as it sounds.

But without that drudgery and discomfort, there can be no real joy or peace in life, at least for me. If I had to drop some secondhand wisdom here for some newly-sober person, on this momentous occasion, it would be: the secret is getting used to being uncomfortable. It’s okay to be uncomfortable. The truth is in the discomfort. Without getting too religious here, because I know not all of you are Catholic like me: life is supposed to be uncomfortable, isn’t it? The discomfort is there for a reason; even the mild, fleeting discomfort of the seven-year itch.

So cheers, with a bottle of plain water, or perhaps a nice mug of herbal tea, to seven years. Maybe I’m not really literally a whole new person, but in some ways I am; and I sure do like the idea.