This is a terrific interview. Thank you to Elizabeth and Sari for publishing this. This quote from Elizabeth really spoke to me: "Self-centered fear is and will probably always be my main defect, although it has definitely lessened, whether that’s due to age or sobriety I’m not sure.
When I’m not spiritually fit, I’m thinking about what people think of me. I’m worried they are mad at me."
Self-consciousness that borders on the neurotic (meaning caring about what others think to an unhealthy extent) seems to be a common trait of people who struggle with alcohol. I drink as a social lubricant, and this fear of failing to belong has a lot to do with it.
Thanks, Martina. Yes, the phrase "I don't think much of myself, but I'm all I think about" definitely applies to me. I'm at my best when I'm thinking of others.
I’ve been sober 37 years, 6 months, and 21 days – like you, I know it would be cheating to say “38 years.” We’re always just one drink away from losing everything.
I didn’t “intend” to become sober. My ex-husband had the drinking problem, not me. When he decided to get help, I went with him to check him into a recovery program. They had two options: a 28-day inpatient program and a 6-week outpatient program. Aha, I thought triumphantly, they can have him for 28 days, and I can get some sleep (once I swept up the ashes from the fence he had “accidentally” set on fire the day before during a drunken barbecue).
But the intake counselor decided that the outpatient program would be just fine given our circumstances and the patterns of my ex’s drinking. Okay, after three years of living with his drinking, what’s one more day? Besides, I'll show him - he can rake up all that ash and charcoal. So we signed the papers and went home, with our assurances that we’d be back the very next day for the first session.
Back we go the next afternoon, me leading the way with my ex in tow, rather like taking an incalcitrant puppy to obedience class. At the door, I hand over the imaginary leash to the counselor. Who proceeded to take the leash from my outstretched hand along with said hand and yank me through the door together with my ex.
Turns out, the people running the outpatient program believe that alcoholism is a family affair, which meant everyone goes through the program together. Who knew?
It took nearly three weeks of me sitting in nightly meetings, day after day, seething with resentment before something like sanity took over. From that point forward, I was all in.
One thing you said really resonated with me: having trouble identifying feelings. The meeting leaders spent a lot of time on this one important topic. Every time my turn came up to “share my feelings,” I only recognized one: rage. One day, one of the leaders said, “McDowell, you can’t keep saying rage – we know you’re mad at everyone and everything.” She then handed me a list of emotions and said, “Look through this list and see if you can find even one more emotion you might be feeling.”
I snatch the paper from her hand and start scanning, certain that nothing on that list would feel familiar. But wait a minute – here’s one. Oh, and here’s another. Okay, maybe I could learn to identify and feel all my emotions.
Fast forward 37 years, 6 months, and 21 days, and at least on this day, I’m still sober. Those of us who are still counting the sober days are the lucky ones. Unfortunately, not everyone is; my ex was 16 years sober before he started drinking again. And yes, luck has something to do with sustained progress, but working the steps and using the tools we’ve been given every single day are the keys!
“I get really frustrated when people downplay the dangers of alcohol.” I also carry this soapbox around with me. It is such an addictive, powerful poison and the world just is often so cavalier.
Excellent interview, and I love that you’re hiking a section at a time of the Appalachian trail.
I love the photo of you and your friends hiking. The expression on your face is one of earned peace. Lovely. Congratulations on your impending memoir. I plan to read it.
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing your story Elizabeth. I am heading over to pre-order your book now. Love that you are section hiking the Appalachian trail. I have been wanting to do the same with the PCT. You've inspired me. In many ways.
“…that stopping drinking isn’t enough.” I love how fierce this mandate is. I’m a ‘normie’ in recovery from hyper-sensitivity to (and enabling of) my ex-husband’s substance use and abuse. No, stopping is not ‘enough’—for anyone involved. Many people are lubricated by substance to behave in unhealthy and often cruel ways. Thank you for this reminder. Ordering book now!
I love all of the comments here from fellow readers, I love this post from Elizabeth, and I really love this ongoing series from Sari and A.J. I wish I could give it many more hearts.
Truth walks out trembling, yet every word you dare to speak of wound and triumph turns that shaking into armor bright enough to light the way for others.
This is a terrific interview. Thank you to Elizabeth and Sari for publishing this. This quote from Elizabeth really spoke to me: "Self-centered fear is and will probably always be my main defect, although it has definitely lessened, whether that’s due to age or sobriety I’m not sure.
When I’m not spiritually fit, I’m thinking about what people think of me. I’m worried they are mad at me."
Self-consciousness that borders on the neurotic (meaning caring about what others think to an unhealthy extent) seems to be a common trait of people who struggle with alcohol. I drink as a social lubricant, and this fear of failing to belong has a lot to do with it.
Thanks, Martina. Yes, the phrase "I don't think much of myself, but I'm all I think about" definitely applies to me. I'm at my best when I'm thinking of others.
Excellent interview!
I’ve been sober 37 years, 6 months, and 21 days – like you, I know it would be cheating to say “38 years.” We’re always just one drink away from losing everything.
I didn’t “intend” to become sober. My ex-husband had the drinking problem, not me. When he decided to get help, I went with him to check him into a recovery program. They had two options: a 28-day inpatient program and a 6-week outpatient program. Aha, I thought triumphantly, they can have him for 28 days, and I can get some sleep (once I swept up the ashes from the fence he had “accidentally” set on fire the day before during a drunken barbecue).
But the intake counselor decided that the outpatient program would be just fine given our circumstances and the patterns of my ex’s drinking. Okay, after three years of living with his drinking, what’s one more day? Besides, I'll show him - he can rake up all that ash and charcoal. So we signed the papers and went home, with our assurances that we’d be back the very next day for the first session.
Back we go the next afternoon, me leading the way with my ex in tow, rather like taking an incalcitrant puppy to obedience class. At the door, I hand over the imaginary leash to the counselor. Who proceeded to take the leash from my outstretched hand along with said hand and yank me through the door together with my ex.
Turns out, the people running the outpatient program believe that alcoholism is a family affair, which meant everyone goes through the program together. Who knew?
It took nearly three weeks of me sitting in nightly meetings, day after day, seething with resentment before something like sanity took over. From that point forward, I was all in.
One thing you said really resonated with me: having trouble identifying feelings. The meeting leaders spent a lot of time on this one important topic. Every time my turn came up to “share my feelings,” I only recognized one: rage. One day, one of the leaders said, “McDowell, you can’t keep saying rage – we know you’re mad at everyone and everything.” She then handed me a list of emotions and said, “Look through this list and see if you can find even one more emotion you might be feeling.”
I snatch the paper from her hand and start scanning, certain that nothing on that list would feel familiar. But wait a minute – here’s one. Oh, and here’s another. Okay, maybe I could learn to identify and feel all my emotions.
Fast forward 37 years, 6 months, and 21 days, and at least on this day, I’m still sober. Those of us who are still counting the sober days are the lucky ones. Unfortunately, not everyone is; my ex was 16 years sober before he started drinking again. And yes, luck has something to do with sustained progress, but working the steps and using the tools we’ve been given every single day are the keys!
“I get really frustrated when people downplay the dangers of alcohol.” I also carry this soapbox around with me. It is such an addictive, powerful poison and the world just is often so cavalier.
Excellent interview, and I love that you’re hiking a section at a time of the Appalachian trail.
I love the photo of you and your friends hiking. The expression on your face is one of earned peace. Lovely. Congratulations on your impending memoir. I plan to read it.
"Earned peace," what a wonderful phrase. Thank you!
This has the ring of truth. Not that the other posts don't, but you feel more than think. One of the best and thanks
Powerful story. Thanks for sharing. I bet your memoir is terrific.
Thank you Elizabeth. I'm glad you're alive and able to communicate your experience with others.
I love that being in nature is one of your healers.
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing your story Elizabeth. I am heading over to pre-order your book now. Love that you are section hiking the Appalachian trail. I have been wanting to do the same with the PCT. You've inspired me. In many ways.
“…that stopping drinking isn’t enough.” I love how fierce this mandate is. I’m a ‘normie’ in recovery from hyper-sensitivity to (and enabling of) my ex-husband’s substance use and abuse. No, stopping is not ‘enough’—for anyone involved. Many people are lubricated by substance to behave in unhealthy and often cruel ways. Thank you for this reminder. Ordering book now!
I love all of the comments here from fellow readers, I love this post from Elizabeth, and I really love this ongoing series from Sari and A.J. I wish I could give it many more hearts.
<3 <3 <3
Bravo! Powerful message. Thank you.
Truth walks out trembling, yet every word you dare to speak of wound and triumph turns that shaking into armor bright enough to light the way for others.
Inspired by your story.
Great interview. Looking forward to your book!
Great interview! I've envious of your Appalachian adventure! Looking forward to your book. YOUR BOOK!! :-)
Loved this, Liz!