Overcoming Fear in Sobriety

When I got sober, I was afraid. The list of things I was afraid of was long, but looking back it was by no means unique. Addicts and Alcoholics come in all shapes and sizes. Those who are wealthy and famous are just as susceptible to this disease as the impoverished and marginalized. Anyone can suffer from the disease of addiction, and yet no matter how vast the differences that separate us may be, I have learned that there is one constant among us: getting sober is scary.

It is my belief that change is something that frightens most, if if not all, people. When we put down the drinks and the drugs, we have to truly change as people to be successful in maintaining our sobriety. Such a daunting task was terrifying for me. When I look back on it, I realize that instead of living in hope of the things I could gain, I lived in fear of the things I would lose.

When I arrived in rehab, I met many people just like me. My life at the end of my run was movie-quality horrific. I was homeless, beaten down, rail thin and robbing every person I loved; I was a criminal. I still to this day get an adrenaline rush when I tell groups of recovering addicts about dodging the drug task force in the Bronx or robbing department stores in New Jersey. I lived a life of misery, but it was also thrilling at times. Walking around the projects and kicking on trap house doors at 3 AM is not a cool thing to do, but my pulse still pounds every time I think about times like that.

I work in recovery now and have met countless young people like myself. One of the biggest fears the newcomer has is one I wrestled with personally- the fear that sobriety will mark the end of the fun. When I began to recover, I thought, “this is it, I might as well start knitting sweaters in a rocking chair on my porch for the rest of my life.”

That’s a hard pill to swallow for someone who has swallowed quite a few. Once I had made it through physical withdrawals, this was my first hurdle on my quest for sustainable sobriety. I’m 23 years old, and I felt I now had to miss out on the rest of my 20’s. Every time I opened snapchat, it felt like I was missing out on the wild and crazy lives of all my peers. The nightclub lights looked brighter than I remembered, the girls looked prettier, and the music sounded better. I told myself that I had to accept that my life sober was more important than cheap thrills, but the fear of missing out on the freedom of youth continued to consume me. Then some time passed, and my thinking changed.

Eventually, I found sober people with large quantities of clean time who lived their lives like I always wanted to. They weren’t relegated to libraries and Applebee’s like I always imagined sober people were. They rode motorcycles and went skydiving. They would drive 3 hours to the desert in the middle of the night just to look at the stars, and they would camp in the mountains just to watch the sunrise. That is who I wanted to be. It was through meeting these people that I had an epiphany that would change my life.

They were living their lives on expert mode. You see, if my grandma did meth, she would have crazy stories to tell within a day. The most boring person in the world could go to the projects everyday for a month to pick up dope and suddenly have enough material to write a novel about their experience. America glorifies the bandit. The Al Capones and the Frank Lucas’ of history have a mystique about them that captivates young people like me.

I remember my favorite movies growing up were Scarface and Blow. I was attracted to the danger and intrigue of those chaotic scenarios. Something was always so cool about figures who seemingly gave the middle finger to society. My favorite authors were always the most troubled, inebriated minds. The Hemingways, Thompsons and Poes of the world lined my library. Music was no different. I used to listen to Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain and romanticize the way they lived. I now know that I subconsciously linked the quality of their creative expression with the troubled chaos they had submerged their lives in. It’s funny how I sought the lives that these idols of mine had while completely ignoring the bigger picture.

At the end of Scarface, Al Pacino’s character dies a gruesome death riddled with bullets. Johnny Depp’s character spends nearly the rest of his life in jail at the end of Blow. Hemingway and Cobain committed suicide, while Jim Morrison overdosed and died at 27.

What a strange thing it is, that myself and so many others glorify misery.

One of the most powerful things I have learned in sobriety is how to find the true thrill of life. My exciting life was not over; in fact, the real journey was just beginning. Anyone can take ten shots of Jameson and go hit on a beautiful woman. Go talk to that same girl stone-cold sober and see who you really are.

I used to take drugs and alcohol to wrestle with my fears. Taking that shortcut to overcome fear is just burying it deep inside of us, rather than truly overcoming it.

The people I look up to in sobriety are the ones that live life out loud. They look at fear in the face and walk right through it. They can laugh until they can’t breathe and dance like nobody’s watching. Sobriety is not the end of the excitement. It is the beginning of truth in our lives.

Get off your couch. Climb a mountain or learn how to box! Go to Mexican karaoke night and sing your heart out. Go race dirt bikes in the desert or scuba dive with great white sharks. Fill your life with color and art and beauty! Do it all sober. You will never look back.