I’m a Quitter.

Ten years in the making. Every day that passes is another milestone. More muscle memory for the new paths I’ve forged. Gained confidence in the other ways of being. Increased confidence as I choose self love over self destruction. And a real settling into the discomfort of not escaping myself. In fact, it might be the obsession of facing my ugliest, dirtiest, messiest parts that keep me sober. That I no longer want to minimize those parts of me. That I am comforted by the vastness of my own human experience. That the parts once shamed and hidden are in fact the most intricate pieces of the puzzle that make me who I am.

Ten years ago I finally shook off my final sugar addition: alcohol. It was after years of doing cleanses, intense 3-week protocols that forced sobriety on me. In these windows of possibility I felt a cold clarity pulsing through my veins. It was, in many ways, the crack that let the light in for me to see my own alcohol addiction. Every time I finished my cleanses I swung back to my fancy cocktails and funky red wines. I wouldn’t let myself sleep without the right buzz. Most days it was at least one bottle of wine. Intimacy was never sober. I didn’t even know what that felt like anymore. I was a stranger in my own body, escaping myself and my life with every sip.

I finally tired of my sugar addiction. I was tired of the yo yo of weight gain and loss, another form of becoming a stranger in my own body as I swung from pregnancy weights to pre-kid weights. I always felt more myself when I was lighter. Sugar was the first to go. I cut all sugars out of my life. Refined sugar, brown sugar, honey, maple syrup, fruit juice concentrates, corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, malt syrup. My palate transformed, and my food cravings drastically reduced, while, at the same time, my alcohol cravings become more extreme. At 10 o’clock in the morning I’d be wondering how early I could have a drink.

It took three months of being beyond sugar to gain the perspective I needed to brave my breakup with alcohol. It was, after all, a cornerstone of my family of origin. When I was in the midst of my first pregnancy loss, I was able to get drunk with my dad at my cousin’s wedding. I relished running into him at the bar, ordering myself my third or fourth gin and tonic, grasping any moment I could steal where we could connect. Daily tipping time was when the family came together for appetizers and alcohol. It was simply a daily part of growing up, which inevitably became my own road map for adulthood.

Until it didn’t work. I was miserable, exhausted by the fact that I was not in control of my life. I was craving wellness. I wanted to return home to a body that loved me. All of me. Not just some of me. And so I took the leap. I gave up alcohol. I quit.

I didn’t know if I could do it. I didn’t know if it was for a week, a month, or a year. I had no idea it would become my new lifestyle. But I knew that in order to live peacefully in my own body, I needed to give this a go.

Everyday was a new milestone. One week, then one month. And the clarity I thought I once had by drinking dried up. I suddenly understood that I didn’t need alcohol to feel confident. No, I was perpetuating my lack of self esteem by medicating my own little demons. And once I freed myself from this internal torture, I unearthed / exposed the most brilliant light I’d been dimming. My own true self, the one that I was afraid to set free. The one that was told they were too much. Not enough. Too loud. Needed to focus. That one, yes, she is the one with the confidence that had alluded me all these years.

Finally, I was home. And not only home, I was also free. Free to love myself, all of myself, with a gained self-understanding and confidence that made socializing and public speaking a cinch. In fact, it was more enjoyable than ever because I was able to bring my full self to the space, a kindness I’d avoided because I was afraid of not being loved or seen.

But the only person I needed to see me was me. I was always doing this for myself and to myself. And that’s what held me back, and ultimately set me free.