There are few times when holidays serve us with emotions I’ve spent years figuring out how to manage — joy, nostalgia, grief, stress, overwhelm. Before recovery, I didn’t feel these things. I escaped them. I numbed them. I blurred them with substances until the season passed in a haze.
Feeling Everything
Being sober means feeling everything, heaping a whole set of intensity. So I build a plan for survival for the holidays every year. Not because I foresee needing it, but because I am respect my recovery. I know that the season is full of surprises and that emotions might come out of nowhere. I also know that sobriety requires purpose rather than just luck.
I begin by being completely honest with myself, asking questions such as: How am I really doing? What do I need? What hurts? What helps?
I don’t sugarcoat anything or pretend to be some sort of big tough man. I meet myself where I’m at tenderly, without judgment.
The second thing I focus on is boundaries. Once the holidays hit, I am being pulled in every possible direction…socially, emotionally, and financially. However, I have learned to say NO, even though it causes me some guilt. I do not go to everything and burn myself with baking treats and making everyone else happy. Now, I must keep my energy level flowing for my sobriety.
Staying connected with my support network becomes a solid priority. Meetings become my rock. So many things, like calling a fellow clean drug addict, are treated as non-negotiable. I do my planning with recovery intent ahead, not as a cog getting its minutes squeezed between actual obligations.
Pausing is easily my biggest tool nowadays. I pause before I say anything. I pause before I react to anything. I pause before I allow any stress build-up lead to a dangerous place. That pause has saved me so many times.
I, too, prepare for cravings. It happens. I acknowledge myself and remember that cravings come and go like waves. They rise suddenly, then hit a peak before finally tapering off. When they come, I don’t freak out. I can breathe in, breathe out, and talk to someone if need be.
On the other side, there is resting full stop. Rest, immeasurably so, is one thing I wasn’t able to give myself for years. Things start to slow down. I get tiny moments of silence. And I let joy into my thoughts in the smallest of ways: warm lights, gentle sunlight-filled mornings, slow, sweet routines. The peace, Sobriety has shown me, is actually allowed, even if I still sometimes don’t think I really deserve it.
My Survival Plan
My survival plan doesn’t promise anything about how perfect the holidays will go. However, it can give me one day at a time. Then it can pave the way for me to come forth as the person I am truly destined to be, not the one I previously was when substances were still controlling me.
Holidays will always be difficult, filled with overwhelming emotions. The difference is I now face these things without denial; messiness brings clarity-not avoidance. It’s with identity rather than secrecy. It’s with strength besides contentiousness.
Undoubtedly, I find myself wake up daily deprived of being with intoxication, and even many times fail to do so; therein I discover the real feast.
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