sobriety in isolation

It was tough enough pre-pandemic.

The slightest of inconveniences could feel like a trigger. The rainy weather. A long day of work. The dog taking too long to drop a deuce. Staying sober or clean was sufficiently difficulty at the best of times. But, back then, we all had outlets. For those managing their obsessions independent of a substance related group, there were gyms and coffeehouses to visit. We could punch and run our problems out. Or we could talk them to death over coffee. What’s more, the familiarity of that routine is so very comforting for the recovering addict. We love our routines. Our rituals. They bring us great comfort. My Fridays out with friends and my regular sweaty sessions at the dojo filled a void. They were hydration to my desiccated soul. I’d had a tough day or week. But I always knew I had something to anticipate. A reward.

(“Good thing I have Muay Thai to replace mai tai’s now….”)

Now, nothing.

Even if I still resonated with the anony-meetings, meetups are cancelled.

Along with the rest of the world.

As an essential worker, I know I should feel grateful to still have an income. And I do. But it’s taxing. Physically and psychologically. I spend my days using my body to heal other bodies. I spend my days using my brain to figure out how I can do that while managing a busy schedule. And I spend my days draining my empathy reserves on non-compliant patients. I’m spent by the end. And, with none of my usual outlets to fill myself back up, I go from one draining day, week, and now month, into the next. What’s more – I live alone. So, unlike my colleagues who go home to a significant other they can Netflix or hike with, it’s just me.

It’s been seven years since I’ve craved the object of my addiction: pills.

Once I had my new life in place, I didn’t miss them.

But recently, I nearly caved.

My savior? A porn star. No, I don’t mean that a stint of self love kept me clean. (Although, if that’s what you need to do, more power to you, friend.) Rather, it was a buddy I have on social media who happens to star in adult films. He had just posted about sobriety. For me, alcohol was never the issue. Pills were. But it was the same concept. So, I asked him what he was doing to stay clean in quarantine while isolated. And what he said kinda gave me a case of the duh’s: meditate. Cultivate a gratitude list. Take stock of what is going well right now. Find a new routine. Automatically, I was retro jet propelled back into my early days of clean time in my life after meds. I recall having none of the stuff I have now and managing to remain pill free. I read. I worked out on my elliptical. I cleaned. I did some art. I watched some contemplative documentaries instead of scrolling through dopamine depleting Insta posts. And, just like my friend, Seth, I meditated.

In a way, getting clean that first time was a lot like this pandemic has been.

(It used to be “you’re not alone” because there were other addicts. But *this* experience is universal.)

You step into the unknown and it feels like a kind of death.

It’s terrifying. And you know that it’s going to be hard. That it won’t feel good. That you’ll take a few L’s. But, somehow, you have the faith to believe that your hardship and sacrifice is going to yield something better. In the case of early recovery, you know that withdrawal will end within a few weeks tops and that (provided that you’re doing the work) you’ll retrain your brain toward a new normal. They talk a lot about “bucking the system” in the rooms of NA. But, now, is the ultimate test. Instead of avoiding step work or gratitude lists, now it’s about “bucking reality”. We’re all going through this. It’s a shared experience. The only question is – how will we choose to deal with it? Because, in the end, it is very much a choice. Maybe the world will go back to the way it was. But maybe another wave of illness will send us back into quarantine. The best we can do is to be prepared and have a system – just like we implemented during early clean time.

So, for my fellow friends attempting to remain unsullied in isolation: consider doing what I’m begrudgingly attempting myself today. Generate a list of what is going well. If you can’t think of anything, think of someone you love who’s still alive. And start there. Is your dog cuddled up next to you? Do you have an income? Is there still central heating keeping you warm (which we still need in mid spring for some reason)? How about your limbs? Are they all still attached to your torso? Can you hear your favorite playlist with two functional ears? Watch your favorite movie with two operating eyes? The list goes on when you actually redirect your focus. (No pun intended there.)

(“I only have a roof over my head, my health, my job, my family, internet access and plenty of food. I’m dyingggg…”)

After that, in the spirit of lists, keep going. And make a daily routine, hour by hour. Following this each day, even loosely, will help hold you accountable to a schedule and keep you out of your head. Wake at eight and eat breakfast. Work remotely after. Run at noon. Clean at one. Meditate at four. Dinner at five. Whatever seems doable, make that your new plan. I’m not saying don’t have any stretches of freedom. But hours upon hours of idle time is the enemy of sobriety.

Also, it might sound odd, but I’m gonna say it: foster a dog. The single thing getting me through isolation right now is my furry companion. With her classic Pekingese bug eyes and rock star personality, I am constantly being brought out of bad thought cycles. Animals pick up on tension. And, like clockwork, when I’m letting my head get away from me, she’s there. Sat on my lap. Paw on my wrist. It’s as if to say, “Pet me instead of picking up.” (Also, I think she’s psychic because she’s making her way toward me now that we’re talking about her…)

Then, finally, for those of you who depended on the meetings, I feel you. Even as an introvert, I know for a fact that there’s something I get out of eye contact, hugs, and unspoken microexpressions or body language that I can’t get from a text message. In person, you can gaze at eachother. In person, you share energy. In isolation, you sit there, looking at your phone and hoping the red “one” appears before you start taking desperate measures. Fortunately for us, however, “Zoom” is now a thing. And, as I’ve perused a few online blogs about the digital anony-meetings, this seems to be the best bet. Having just done a family zoom last weekend, I can safely say this is a lot more enjoyable than it sounds. I hadn’t wanted to hop on a facetime conference call to talk. It seemed so distant and cold compared to actual gatherings. But, within a few minutes, it was just like the real thing. Mom and dad were confused and turning up their hearing aids. Brother was bantering with sister. Sister and I were making stupid faces and pretending to be descending imaginary stairs in the frame while everyone else ignored us and talked about Covid. So, if you’re not up for a typical meeting and hearing addicts regurgitate idioms or unoriginal dogma from the last one they went to across town, then facetime a friend. Anything to re-frame your brain and get you back on track.

And if you’re feeling quite alone right now, just know that you’re not special.

But what you are is newly equipped – with some adequate coping tools.