Last Friday I celebrated five years of life without alcohol. It was a proud accomplishment and something that seemed unfeasible ten years ago. I recall one summer day, way back in 2014, when my twin daughters were only a few months old and my drinking was a bit of a problem. I had a physical with my primary care doctor and I filled him in on how much I was drinking. (A fifth of warm vodka a day.) He told me a few things that afternoon that I have never forgotten. The first scared the living bejesus out of me. He said it typically took five years of sobriety to finally break free from the addiction. Five years, I thought. Five fucking years. That seemed impossible back then, literally impossible. When I left his office that day, I didn’t drive straight home to relieve my mother from her babysitting duties. Instead, I went to Star City IGA and purchased a fifth of Smirnoff vodka. Before I pulled into my driveway a few minutes later, I was already drunk, because my doctor told me something else that day; something that I wasn’t ready to hear; something that made me go to the liquor store and unconsciously buy more alcohol. He said that most addictions―if not all―stem from trauma.
I just found myself laughing out loud. At that point, I wasn’t even sure what trauma meant, let alone how much it was affecting my life daily. All I know for certain is that going to the doctor and talking about my alcoholism isn’t something that sat well with me. I knew I was going to stop drinking eventually (or I was going to die), but it most certainly wasn’t going to be on that summer day. And to think, I drank on and off for another five years.
Yikes.
In March of 2019, the same day I signed myself up to try a sacred plant medicine called Iboga, I stopped drinking once and for all. In the five years since, I’ve learned an awful lot. My doc was both right and wrong about the things he told me all those years ago. He was right that my addiction stemmed from trauma. He was wrong that it was going to take five years to finally break free from it. Miraculously, and thanks to that plant medicine I’m talking about, my compulsion to drink disappeared in less than six months. I am safe now.
Here are ten things I’ve learned in the five years since I’ve stopped drinking:
1. Drinking was never, ever the issue. The drinking was covering up the issue(s), which had EVERYTHING to do with trauma, specifically undiagnosed PTSD. When you understand that you’re drinking to cover up pain, you’re quick to realize that the drinking might not necessarily be your fault. When you realize that your drinking isn’t necessarily your fault, it makes it much easier to forgive yourself. And when you can finally forgive yourself, it makes it so much easier to let go and move on. Trust me on this one.
2. Your sobriety is yours, no one else’s. In the halls of AA I used to roam around in, I might have been judged for using cannabis to help cope with stress, anxiety, and fear. For a long time, I thought that was fair. I don’t anymore. Cannabis is a plant medicine that can help many people. Sure, it can be addicting – and I’ve dealt with this issue in my past – but for some of us, it beats the alternative, which is drinking ourselves to death or overdosing on drugs. Pot will never kill you. It might be the ‘gateway’ drug, but I think it’s time we start looking at it differently. It can be the gateway drug (or I prefer plant) to sobriety. If you’re using cannabis instead of sticking a needle in your arm, do me a favor and pat yourself on the ass. I see you. And I love you.
3. Sobriety taught me honesty. Speaking of AA, I owe my honesty to those meetings I once attended 3-4 times a week. I remember being in awe of the shit that was coming out of people’s mouths. Once I started sharing my truth, I started feeling lighter. Once you get that feeling in you, it’s hard to replace. I’ve had to get honest with myself a good number of times. When you learn to be honest with yourself, it’s a hell of a lot easier to be honest with others. And speaking of cannabis, I’ve had to get real honest with myself lately. It served its purpose, but lately it’s been holding me back. Being honest with yourself is a practice, and sobriety gives you the opportunity to do just that.
4. Asking for help is the hardest part. Just ask for help. Just do it. The right people will listen. And then it will feel like someone just lifted a Dodge Ram off your shoulders. The rest isn’t easy, but it’s fucking easier, and we need all the help we can get. Don’t wait too long to get the help you DESERVE.
5. One guided psychedelic experience is equivalent to over ten years of therapy. When I was fifteen I went through a highly traumatic experience (you can read about this in “The Mushroom Chronicles”), so I’ve been in and out of therapy for well over twenty years. I had worked with psychologists, psychiatrists, counselors, and AA sponsors. Nothing solved the problem. My first psychedelic experience (Ayahuasca) felt like… well, ten years of therapy in one night. After my second experience (Iboga), I never drank again. Read this paragraph a second time.
6. You have to WANT to be sober. When I look back at myself all of those years ago, it’s easy for me to find a profound love for Ryan Graves. I wanted to stop drinking SO badly. I would have done anything. So, that’s exactly what I did. Getting on a plane and flying to Costa Rica for my date with Iboga was the single scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It was also my single greatest achievement. You want to get sober? Prove it. Prove it to yourself.
7. Use fear as a compass. Most people are too afraid to stop drinking, to stop doing drugs, to stop anything they’re doing that alleviates pain. I was literally terrified of going one night without alcohol. One night. However, on the other side of that darkness, there was a gigantic sun just waiting to rise on a new day; new opportunities. Getting sober was one of the most frightening things I’ve ever had to do. It was also the most rewarding. You can apply this to anything. If you want to do or try something but you’re too afraid… just fucking do it. There’s something waiting for you on the other side.
8. If you’re in active addiction, God has other plans for you. Listen! The alcohol and drugs are trying to tell you something. Every time you relapse, every time you black out, every time you skip a day of work because of a hangover, it’s God telling you it’s time to stop because there are other things here on Earth that you’re meant for. Look, I’m no Stephen King (and I’m never going to be), but while I was drinking I didn’t even know I knew how to write. Now I see myself writing a book a year for the rest of my life. I’m beyond grateful that my alcoholism got so bad so quickly. Now I’m free. Let me say it again: LISTEN!
9. Your addiction is NOT your fault, but it’s your responsibility. As a society we need to come together and start accepting addiction for what it is. It’s pain, it’s trauma―mostly stemmed from childhood. This isn’t to blame anyone, but it’s to bring awareness to the impact trauma has on our people. It’s killing us. Every day. So, no, your addiction is NOT your fault. Look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself that. But then acknowledge that it’s your responsibility and fight for your life. You’re absolutely worth it.
10. It’s truly one day at a time. Whether you’ve been to AA or not, we’ve all heard this phrase, and it couldn’t be more true. One of the best (and corniest) things I’ve ever heard at a meeting happened in Fort Fairfield, Maine over eight years ago. A man was playing with a tube of salt and sprinkled a little bit onto the table. He said, “In the beginning, when you’re just trying to get through a day, you can’t really see any salt. You know it’s there, but it isn’t exactly visible.” This time he poured more salt on the table. “But the days add up, and before you know it, there’s a pretty big pile there. That pile is something to be proud of.” You’re goddamn right it is. Getting sober is a tall task for anyone, but if you can approach it ‘one day at a time’ it gets fucking easier.
And hey, that’s all we can ask for.
