Sobriety out of Spite

Not a sermon, not a self-help pitch—just one story about quitting, and why spite can be a strangely solid foundation.

Today marks 101 days of sobriety, and I’m still not really sure how I feel about it...

I never thought that sobriety would be a priority in my life,

and in many ways I'm surprised that I haven't caved.

In comparison to my last post, which dove into the specifics and details of my stay at NIH.

I plan on maintaining more of a stream of consciousness with this one. Picking apart the aspects of how I came to terms with prioritizing sobriety. I got some feedback on my last post, some comments that it was too long, or that some folks didn't know where to begin. With that being said, my aim is to keep this post much more concise and to the point.

I also want to add, as a precursor, that I poured a lot of deep feelings into this post. I assure you that I am fine, and I have no thoughts of harming myself or others.

Before getting into it, I just want to make clear, that maintaining "Sobriety out of Spite" isn't aimed at any person individually. I've had some folks ask me about who I'm angry at.

I'm not mad at anyone really. I'm just mad.

We live in such a confusing world. Filled with pitfalls and schemes everywhere we turn.

So many lies, so much hypocrisy.

It's so easy to get lost in all of it.

There's an overabundance of fear, and not enough talk about resolution.

Unless that is, you offer to pay the bill.

We live in a time where profits take priority over people.

It's too easy these days to lose sight of what's truly important.

And I think that in the process of all of this,

We've lost too much of ourselves along the way.

for that, I am spiteful.

---

As a labelled alcoholic, someone who "has a disease" and cannot curb the urge to drink without some kind of help. Statistics show that I should've lapsed by now.

Especially since I live on my own, within walking distance from many bars and nightlife. I'm single, I don't really have anybody nearby who checks in on me or holds me accountable. I don't have many sober friends, nor do I actively participate in any sober communities. In addition, I've worked the alcohol industry for a decade. I still frequent a lot of my favorite bars and love to talk cocktail ideas with my bartending friends. I'm still very much interested in the local beer and wine scene. A scene that I worked so hard to get a foothold in. I still get offered free drinks when I go out, and in a lot of ways, I still miss it.

So, how is it that the "recovering alcoholic" has been able to resist all of this temptation?

Well... Obviously my time at NIH was a big help. I was very fortunate to have had that opportunity, and I cannot disregard how much of a difference that it has made. Although I did not agree with everything that they had to say, there is no doubt in my mind that I would not have remained sober for this long without having participated in that study. Now with that being said, I don't think it was absolutely necessary that I participated. I also don't think that it's absolutely necessary for me to maintain sobriety.

So then... why am I still sober?

This is a question that has taken me a long time to come to terms with.

I came to the decision to commit to sobriety during my last few days at NIH.

Something clicked with me during our last group psychiatry session, it was actually the only session I had with that psychiatrist in particular.

I don't remember what was said exactly. But I will never forget how I felt in that moment.

I felt as though I'd been misunderstood. For so long that it hurt.

Finally, here's someone who understands, sympathizes, and validates what I had been going through.

I wish I had the opportunity to spend more time talking with her. But given the circumstance we only had about 20 minutes to talk.

After giving her a brief overview of my viewpoints and life events, she turned to me and asked:

"Do you think you're an alcoholic?"

to which I replied:

"no, I honestly don't think I am"

So naturally, why on earth was I even there to begin with?

I think that was the question that was on everyone's mind at that moment.

We've all spent about a month with each other at this point. We all knew each other's stories.

Hell, I wouldn't have made it into the program if I didn't fit the criteria of what is considered to be an alcoholic.

During my entire stay I never actually admitted that I was an alcoholic, I don't remember anyone admitting that, now that I think about it.

we never sat in a circle and did the whole "I'm so and so and I'm an alcoholic" ritual.

But they definitely let us now, day after day, that we were all alcoholics, and that we all had a disease. It was obvious that we were all in that study for a reason.

Some of us were much worse off than others.

But at the end of the day we'd all be lying to ourselves if we didn't want a good stiff drink.

I mean really, most people do. That's why it's one of the world's most profitable industries.

Now, it's clear to me that I have struggled with my drinking in the past.

Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has their vices. Nobody's perfect.

I'm still confused as to how my habits were acceptable to some, and unacceptable to others.

I think that's a very blurry line that a lot of folks start to teeter on at some point.

Maybe I'm wrong about that.

But from where I'm coming from, this seems to be a pretty big topic of conversation.

I know for a fact that I crossed that line many years ago, I had hit rock bottom back in 2016, and since then I had gotten a lot better.

So then, what brought me to this point?

What made me so special?

What was at the head of this new downward spiral?

The answer that I found:

Spite and Resentment

Spite and resentment towards who?

No one in particular really.

I'm just so sick of it all..

I spent close to 10 years holding onto a special kind of hatred.

A hatred so vile and putrid and shameful.

I hated myself.

I hated where I came from. I hated my privileges.