My favorite sober activity during the warmer months is biking around town while pulling my fur baby, Teddy, behind me in a mini doggie trailer. We reside in a tiny, tulip-filled, and touristy mid-Michigan town - perfect for our daily joyrides.
As beautiful as this town is, I couldn’t help but notice there are only two different types of housing: (1) immaculate upper-middle class houses or multi million dollar mansions visible to tourists and (2) older income-based apartments hidden on the back streets. This always makes me scratch my head in confusion and wonder. How is it possible for there to be such a huge wealth gap within a one mile radius?
Yesterday while cruising around the subdivision with the biggest houses in town, I found myself feeling ashamed that my inability to stop getting arrested (or sober) in my 20s led to shitty credit and living three blocks down in the housing for poor people.
To my surprise, when I saw someone outside watering their mansion garden, they instantly perked up as they noticed Ted and I approaching. They laughed, waved, and said, “You and your pup are living the dream!”
On the outside I kept my cool, politely returned the smile and the wave, and thanked them. But on the inside I was freaking out and thinking, “I actually have two DUIs, no drivers license, walk to a hairnet wearing job that pays 12.25$/hour, and live in the income-based housing three blocks down. I was just feeling shitty about myself thinking you and your mansion are the definition of living the dream. How ironic, Universe!”
As Ted and I rode back to our 795 sq ft. home, I thought of BrandonBeHappy and pondered the What Ifs. What if I really am the one living the dream? What if Tempest’s bottom-up approach to sobriety is the dream because it allows me to step off the hamster wheel of chasing prestige, perfectionism, and privilege? What if learning to create a life I don’t want to escape from - regardless of my income - is living the dream?
Here’s what I have learned while practicing sobriety with Tempest: it is possible to create a cozy home anywhere. The wealth gap is real, but that doesn’t mean I need to feel ashamed of my history with alcohol and where I landed as a result. All I need to create a cozy home is a roof over my head, running water, space to grow a few plants, clean sheets, twinkle lights, a very spoiled Ted, and my sobriety.
What if the person watering their mansion garden was right?
What if I am living the dream?
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