Intoxicatingly Sober

when serenity is the addiction

I wasn’t one of those annoying people who got sober and suddenly started posting sunrise photos with captions about gratitude.

Sobriety kicked my ass.
There was nowhere left to hide.
Marco? Polo? Are you with me?

Removing every numbing agent I’d carefully collected over decades?
Living hell.

I wasn’t just addicted to alcohol.
I was an equal-opportunity addict.

Wine.
Weed.
Pills.
Coke.
Men.
Sex.
Love.
Shopping.
Starvation.

Was I escaping trauma?
Daddy issues?
Hollywood?
Myself?

Or maybe...

I just really liked getting gloriously obliterated.

And I didn’t quit because I wanted enlightenment.
I quit because every escape hatch stopped working.

Then came the glamorous montage:
Crash.
Burn.
Crawl.
Rehab.
12-step meetings.
Bad coffee in Styrofoam cups.
Friends of Bill.
A life I never ordered but desperately needed.

We all have addictions.
Some just photograph better on Instagram.

These days mine look like yoga retreats, green juice, walking my dog, reading your stacks until 2 a.m.

My younger self is rolling her eyes.
But somewhere around 6.5 years sober now~ after a few spectacular relapses sprinkled in for character development ~ something unexpected is happening.

I’ve started catching little flashes of the old high.
Not from a bottle.
From life itself.

The breeze through the trees.
A great conversation.
Finishing a chapter.
Laughing so hard I snort.
A perfect cup of artesanal coffee.
A glorious sunset with my feet in the sand.

It’s the same feeling...
without the crash.

Don’t get me wrong.
I still have moments where my brain whispers,

“A drink would fix this.”

Or a pharmaceutical.
Or a text to the wrong man.
Or a shopping cart full of things I absolutely don’t need.

But now something else happens.
My mind quick flashes to the memories:

I remember the wreckage.
The scorched earth I called living.
The empty bottles.
The blackouts.
The apologies.
I've already survived that horror movie once.
I don't need a sequel.

And suddenly...the craving only lasts a minute.

I breathe.
I breathe again.
It passes.

Who knew feelings are survivable?
Who knew panic wasn't permanent?

Today I’m chasing something much bigger than escape.
I’m chasing peace.
Slowly.
Imperfectly.
From the inside out.

One meeting.
One honest conversation.
One new friend I find here.
One breath instead of one drink.
One day at a time.

I never thought I’d say this...
but clarity is one hell of a drug.

The plot twist: I’m intoxicatingly sober.
I’m high on fkg life.

Love & spirals,

🖤 Cyn, the Bougie Hippie

Question for you:
What’s your favorite escape these days - and is it helping you come home, or helping you disappear?

PS: My new book, It’s Messy in Here, is all about cross-addiction. Every chapter is a different city, a different substance, a different man, a different attempt to outrun myself - but every escape comes with the same carry-on: me.

Chapter teasers coming soon or buy me a coffee for the eBook.