It’s been a while since I have written anything. The month of May has been a wild ride. I moved from the tiny rural Michigan town where I got sober to a Detroit suburb two weeks ago. Everything has changed.
Last night I was repotting a houseplant that had outgrown its old pot. As I lifted the plant from its old pot to a bigger one, some of its roots were torn and broken. I freaked out, worrying that I had damaged or killed the plant. But then I remembered that plants are resilient. Their roots will regrow even though their home has changed.
That houseplant is a perfect metaphor for this move. Yes, I was uprooted from my comfort zone, but that doesn’t mean I can’t grow new roots. Like my houseplant, this change, although scary at first, will ultimately give me more room to grow bigger and stronger. My beloved houseplant and I will adjust to our new homes with time, water, and sunshine.
My latest Debunking Addiction piece was published yesterday. I wrote about using extreme gentleness to move through this change.
You can read it here: Embracing Change in Sobriety with Extreme Gentleness
Or read it below.
Happy Summer, friends. :)
Embracing Change in Sobriety with Extreme Gentleness
Two weeks ago, I embarked on a massive life change. Moving away from the town where I got sober to begin a new chapter flipped my world upside down. I had to face my fear of change and part ways with the people, places, and things that kept me grounded for three years. My comfort zone was demolished, forcing me to start afresh.
For my entire adult life, I have left cities and jobs abruptly. Mental health breakdowns, burnout, DUIs, and emaciation all got in the way of adequately saying goodbye or giving a two-week notice. Instead of asking for help, I would let myself get so low that I had no choice but to run away and half-heartedly enter inpatient treatment. This cycle, as unhealthy as it was, allowed me to take the easy route and avoid the bittersweetness that comes with a farewell.
What if This Could be Gentle?
As the big moving day approached, I could feel myself drowning in mixed emotions. Packing all of my belongings into brown cardboard boxes triggered unwanted memories from the past, and the urge to numb myself surfaced. Somehow, I had to figure out how to simultaneously feel sadness, excitement, fear, grief, exhaustion, uncertainty, trepidation, joy, and anticipation without alcohol. For the first time in my life, I had to soberly release what used to be to give birth to something new.
Luckily, one of the recent recurring topics of conversation in my recovery support group is the idea of extreme gentleness. While sitting in the paradox of life, instead of reaching for the bottle, I can ask myself these three questions: What if this could be gentle? What gentle practice will calm my emotions? How can I implement gentleness right now?
How to Practice Extreme Gentleness
My instinct has always been to power through difficult times to avoid feeling. But practicing gentleness helped me slow down and softly move through this change. I prioritized hydration, nourishment, deep breathing, crying, dog cuddles, and using my voice in a safe community. I practiced pacing myself, resting, and resetting. I told myself it was natural to feel off-kilter and overwhelmed. Rather than repeating past patterns, running away, and letting the fear of change drive the UHaul, I allowed gentleness to take the wheel.
Embracing change to improve my life is an integral part of sobriety. Focusing on gentleness created space to leave my old comfort zone behind without self-harming or self-sabotaging. Taylor Swift was right when she said, "Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts." But, thankfully, those tiny cuts can be soothed with self-compassion and grace. This experience taught me that change is a wild ride made possible with extreme gentleness by my side.
