So hard, so easy
Photograph ©2022 David Bivins. Writer unknown and wise.
Getting sober is hard. Looking back, I think about how I didn’t really see what was on the other side. Sure, I had a community (once I wised up to getting a community) that talked about the “pink cloud” and lots of other rainbows-out-unicorns’-asses stuff, and I heard and read about the ways being sober freed you from a lot of shit and how it was easier to get up in the morning. I read about the ways the liver can repair itself and how health can almost magically reappear. But I didn’t know what any of that meant for me.
Given how many times I said “I’ll quit tomorrow,” I didn’t really see myself crossing that bridge in a way that made any sense other than having blind faith that it would be a good thing. I was struggling and didn’t know any other way forward. I was desperate to quit and willing to try almost anything, especially if it didn’t involve admitting to other people that I had a problem. (Surprise! I did admit it to a lot of people.) So I had direction in the same way that someone might give you a map but you don’t really understand the destination. It’s just not where you are right now.
So anyway I got sober as you know if you’re reading this, and it was difficult. But now it’s pretty easy to stay sober. I don’t crave alcohol, though I do crave having something different. Not necessarily checking out or getting high or anything like that, but just something different. I found it in carbs, in pints of Ben & Jerry’s, in that toffee crunch stuff you can buy in bulk, in lots of stuff that I actually avoided while I was drinking. Long-time readers will recall that I pretended to be high-fat/low-carb for a while. I would put my thumb on the scale by binging on carbs in the form of lots of beer every single night. But because I was binge drinking in secret, it didn’t count. Right? So while I posturing as high-fat/low-carb, I was actually high-fat/high-carb. I gained unhealthy weight. My blood sugar was insane.
Now I have type 2 diabetes. Well, shit. I’m not surprised. I saw it coming. My doctor saw it coming when she said I was pre-diabetic. And she really saw it when I got my blood tests back recently and she said “you’re diabetic.” But she offered me a path. This one was to cut back on carbs (I’m on medication, too) drastically. No more pints of ice cream. I track my meals with an app to make sure I’m getting the nutrients I need. I read the labels, which I learned to do when I was pretending to be low-carb (and then googling “carbs in Lagunitas IPA” at midnight on the regular).
It’s hard. I crave carbs. I’ve said this before: it feels like the craving for alcohol. And many many times when I knew better I said “I’ll cut down tomorrow” and had a “last” pint of ice cream. But I know I can do this because I did it before. And this time I have an idea of where I’m going to end up. I’m going to have more energy. I’m going to not feel flushed and tired after meals. My heart’s not going to race when I go to bed. Basically it’s going to be like quitting drinking, again.
It’s been about three weeks of this, and I’m doing it. I eat funny compared to my family, but I can feel the changes, and they feel good.
The part of me that doesn’t want to do this wants some ice cream, wants a French baguette, wants the crunchy toffee stuff. But even when I was forgiving myself for indulging in these things because at least I’m not drinking, I could feel what they were doing to me. It’s like having an allergy and sensing that you’re in a dusty room. You know something’s wrong.
But it’s also kind of easy because this time I know two things: it’s OK to not know the final destination, and I’ve totally done this before. I know how to work really fucking hard to get myself out of something unhealthy. I can do this. It’s a skill I’ve learned and use every day.
And I’m admitting that I have a problem, sharing it with my family, sharing it with you, my community. I’m accountable. Mostly to myself and my family, but to all of you, too.
I love you,
David
