Earlier I used to overindulge during holiday festivities. The twinkling holiday lights, loud music, and happy gatherings were like an unsaid invitation to excess. Before recovering, I wanted to instantly step into a party, already planning to escape into a drink or a bit harder. I thought it was okay, and that everyone did it. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t celebrating; I was self-destructing.
Nowadays, holidays look different. Beautiful in some ways. Terrifying in others. Moments of terror especially visit me just when I’m walking into a room abuzz and glowing with the flow of alcohol, where old triggers come flooding in and feeling like ghosts and temptations I haven’t quite put to rest.
I felt like an outsider in my first ever holiday party without drinking. Everyone appeared relaxed, laughing, toasting one another. Meanwhile, I was all tensed up, feeling too aware of every ching, every crackle, every pour. Those cravings and holiday Temptations were less sensual, more emotional. I wanted numbness and oblivion. I wanted to go back to the me who would not feel at all deepened to my core.
I am aware how in past the holiday temptation led my life to ruin. Since then, I learned to groom myself. Before attending holiday gatherings, I have a plan. “Safety net” I call it. I call to the rescue. I have: How do I feel? What do I need? Is there any healing for me to being at a given event?
“NO” is a complete sentence because I know I don’t have to justify choosing my sobriety over someone else’s expectations.
I use my memories, my happy memories. Here I can concentrate on it. And smell that peculiar garden scent. At my mother’s house, we watered the geraniums and the roses down through their roots and smelled the soil. We may get up at five o’clock in the morning and take our coffee and enjoy the mornings. I always remember that little joys in life are far fulfilling than big shot adrenaline rushing thoughts.
I still have moments of holiday temptations. But there is also clarity that does exist anymore — I wake up without the shame, regret, or hangovers. I remember things we talk about. I am present. I go home to myself instead of tormenting myself.
But I’ve been able to learn that even though holidays are involved or painful, staying sober does not mean avoiding life. It means consciously engaging in it. It means defending the peace. It means selecting what you want to be and not who you were before.
This is the moment for sober holiday revellers. It seems to be some sort of inside joke. There is no loudness. It is not mad. But steady. Strong. Pure. Sobriety now feels enough. Like never before in years.
The holidays may never look the way they used to, but they don’t have to feel empty. Learn about beating holiday loneliness in recovery.
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