Beth Shelton, MBA (she/her)的动态

I’m 100 days sober. Year end is such a great tool for reflection. This is my 43. I feel physically & mentally stronger than ever. I push my muscles to exhaustion & let the off-tune chords of life sing to my soul. But, some sweat equity, tears and very real grief have paved the way. I usually use the word “dry,” because sober feels like such a polarizing thing, a label that is loaded. Because the opposite of sober implies something dark and problematic, a beast to be whispered at. And I can’t be *that* thing. I know that my life is rich, I’m an engaged and loving mom, I show up for other people with my whole heart, I have a career I’m grateful for, there’s been no rock-bottom moment, no parental neglect. Yet, I felt the pull, the problematic seed, that the creeping in of the happy hour didn’t feel so happy. For the past two years, I let the hardships of life penetrate my heart and soul. I felt the stress fractures infiltrating the foundation of my life; my family, my brain, my workplace, my strategic plans. Every turn I did or didn’t take impacted other people. The maze was dizzying and I felt a war brewing. I marched through the fire like a warrior, the warrior we are called to be as parents or leaders. But my armor at times came from a glass, the swirling of warm fruity undertones, softening the edges of difficult experiences. It allowed me to forge ahead on the battlefield without wound, while unknowingly softening the edges of the wonderful experiences in the wake. Going dry was hard for me. I leaned on every reason why it wasn’t necessary. “I obviously don’t have a problem. I’m too introverted, it helps me socialize. I deserve to relax at the end of a hard week. Responsible adults can enjoy themselves how they’d like.” And on and on. And probably these are all reasons that are valid and true for others. But for me there was a sinking feeling. Why did I feel the need to justify it? Who was I convincing? I live with intention. I pursue people and activities that light up my brain and my body. I take ownership of my own role in my life and future. When I read a riveting memoir, or push through a new fitness goal, I can feel the difference. But with a drink I allowed ambiguity. I landed on this: it wasn’t serving me well. I don’t need a gauge or label or scale to tell me that. Period. It wasn’t making me stronger. Or happier. Or more fulfilled. And for me, that’s reason enough. 100 days isn’t forever. But it’s not nothing. It is the place between my old comfort zone and any possible new answer. For my friends that guiltily mourn the free-spirited, quick to laugh, glossy-eyed version of me, sometimes I mourn her to. I’m still me, yes, the introversion shows more, the introspection weighs more. I’m embracing the unknown, the dreams, the endless possibilities and heartaches. And to feel each one fully, sharp edges and all. It’s new and hard, but untapped, an invitation to discover. I find few things more encouraging than that.