TGIF :: Introducing The Eight Awarenesses, An Alternative to the Twelve Steps
Weekly Drop || #9
But First!
Happy Friday, everyone. This week I share the context underlying The Eight Awarenesses, my reinterpretation of The Twelve Steps that can be applied in shifting habits that hinder true presence.
This TGIF was crafted in fewer hours than usual because I live by these principles today and I did my best to prioritize a few other efforts this week, most importantly, being fully present for a couple of tough things that came up with my sons (12 and almost 16) in the last 24 hours. My kids’ wellbeing takes center stage, outshining most obligations (Awareness #3: Intuition and Priorities and Awareness #7: Time as our most precious—and finite “life currency”), so instead of writing, I was navigating challenging moments with each of them until late last night.
Luckily this topic is rich. This is merely the beginning of a collaboratively nurtured discourse that will unfold in coming weeks, especially now that some of the ClearLife fundamentals are in place. ❤️
A Broken Family Tree
“Mom, I’m happy you broke the chain.”
We were on a walk through the woods near our home after school. Perplexed, I paused and looked down at my ten year old son’s open face awash in the genuine conviction of a child for a point I didn’t yet understand.
“What chain, honey?”
“You broke the family tree, Mom. You changed the family chain of drinking, so none of us after you will have to do that.”
I stood there, feet planted on the soft earth, feeling the gentle breath of the forest around us. I looked down at him, searching his face for some emotion, question, relief, but saw nothing other than the perfect simplicity of a child sharing something they’ve noticed in a way that only kids can.
“I guess so.” I took a slow, long breath and cupped my hand at the base of his head, right where his soft hair hit his neck and gave him a long blink, our own gesture of “thank you.”
Oops, I Don’t Drink Anymore.
Truth be told, living an intoxicant-free life wasn’t something I planned. I grew up in affluent Marin County, CA, surrounded by alcohol, a sophisticated staple at most celebrations, meals, holidays, gatherings, picnics, and numerous other everyday routines and rituals. It also served as a socially sanctioned salve to discomfort and pain, both physical and emotional.
As a young adult I followed in my parents’ and grandparents’ footsteps, adopting regular drinking habits with my own personal flair. Mimosas, IPAs, and single malts instead of gin fizzes, chardonnay, and Campari. Yet, as I transitioned from my carefree twenties into my duty-filled, the shift from “recreational use” to a troubling “habit” went unnoticed.
In 2017, amidst the end of my marriage in 2017 after the last last-straw, I took a 30 day break from anything that might cloud my mind. I was determined to navigate next steps—telling my family, moving out, hiring a lawyer—with a clear head. A friend had suggested it as a challenge, one more thing to affirm my capabilities to myself and others. Ironically, this incessant drive to prove my worth, a byproduct of deeper healing I had yet to take on, became the very fuel for this challenge. As I often hear from others, stopping wasn’t the hard part. It was merely a new and initially uncomfortable change that gradually eased with time.
Getting Clear Isn’t Really About Not Drinking
That initial 30 days turned into 60, then 90. After bit of affirmative experimentation during the 2017 holiday season, it became an entire year—all of 2018, again, framed as a challenge.
In the early weeks of my ClearLife journey, I enjoyed the physical benefits of being alcohol free. My skin was smoother, my eyes were whiter, my sleep deepened, and I lost some weight as my weekly walks turned into almost daily runs. But that was only the beginning.
After a few months, some of the deeper work started. Without a daily dimmer to keep discomfort at bay, I started asking myself difficult questions and allowed for ample time and space to tune into the answers. Why did I drink in the first place? Was I an alcoholic? What does the rest of life look like clear? Could I limit drinking to just occasional indulgence?
During this introspective phase, I sought community with others who could relate—people who had “opted out” of drinking or some other dimming behavior. I attended a couple of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings (not for me), hosted several local ClearLife gatherings (a brief but insightful experiment), and devoured everything I could find on sobriety, my bookshelves spilling over with “quit lit.” My journey was meandering but insight-filled. I never found a perfect fit—a “sober” community I connected with, or a particular approach that mirrored my choice to to live clear—but I learned a ton and still managed to keep going.
Then another year passed.
Enabled by the abundance of discretionary time during the pandemic in early 2020, embarked upon a deep dive into my family history, revisited decades-old journals, and wrote letters to people that were never sent. I gradually forgave those who had hurt me. I rewired my relationships with my sons. I kicked the adrenaline habit of financial precariousness. Reflecting on it now, I can see that I was redefining my priorities, laying the foundation for a life that reflected them. I realized I am not a victim, there never was a villain, and I definitely don’t need a hero. And throughout, I wrote. Week after week, mostly at my kitchen table before dawn. Hundreds of pages. It was healing, cathartic, and exhausting all at once.
Building A New Home
In retrospect, I realize I was gradually crafting a life that I didn’t want to dim or escape from. The beneath-the-surface work wasn’t sexy. It was time alone. Time in nature. Time with a trusted therapist. Lots of reading books and blogs and listening to podcasts. It included lengthy, often awkward conversations with people who had traversed similar paths. Trial and error. But I ended up with a solid foundation upon which I could frame out a sturdy new life, one I don’t seek to dim or escape from (most of the time).
With a fresh foundation in place, I redefined my priorities. I removed what wasn’t in alignment and started to fill my new rooms with what matters most. I was bold in a way I wasn’t before ClearLife because I trusted myself for the first time in decades.
I prioritized being a Mom. I left a toxic job—then an entire career—choosing more purposeful work. I moved homes twice. I became unapologetic about my newfound boundaries, striving to maintain them with equanimity and kindness (boundaries are easy, its grace in upholding them that still needs a lot of work). I ended a troubled but important relationship. Despite worries I may never deeply love again, I allowed my heart fully open to my beloved and a truly life changing relationship. And then once stabilized, I sharpened my focus on serving others.
But, how?
In my sixth year of this adventure, I am frequently asked: “How did you start—or keep going? What was your process? How do I change my relationship with [dimmer of choice]? I don’t know if I can do it.” I have a sense that part of my purpose on Substack is to share the structure that worked for me—a framework informed by years of research, experimentation, and the inspiring stories of numerous people treading a similar path, including many of you. :)
Honestly, I started this journey without a plan or process. I had no idea what I was doing. I probably leaned on some people too much and other resources not enough. But something kept me going, and it wasn’t any single thing I found in the works and offerings of my many guides and inspirations including Holly Whitaker (first her IG, then her How To Quit Like A Woman book), Dr. Gabor Maté (in particular his In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts book), Glennon Doyle (her Untamed book), Laura McKowen (first her IG, then her We Are The Luckiest book), Ruby Warrington (her Sober Curious book, now movement), Russell Brand (attitude, podcast, IG), Brené Brown (in particular her 2019 blog post What Being Sober Has Meant to me), Yung Pueblo (who’s poetry in Clarity and Connection felt like words I from my own heart), and many more, I somehow crafted a path that worked for me.
Rewriting The Twelve Steps
Among the many successful “sobriety tools” available is The Twelve Steps, as offered by Alcoholics Anonymous, “a fellowship of people who come together to solve their drinking problem.” A handful of dear friends who don’t drink attribute their version of ClearLife to the AA community.
I attended several AA meetings over the last thirty years. First as part of punishment for being busted as a minor in possession of alcohol in high school. Later with the strong encouragement of sober friends when trying to find my own ClearLife community and footing. Once to support a friend’s sobriety milestone.
While I have mad respect for AA and deeply appreciate this work and the transformative impact it has had on countless lives around the world, the approach, largely based on surrender and powerlessness, isn’t a fit for me.
Early in 2018 I copied The Twelve Steps into a Google Doc and began editing them to better meet my needs and later represent my experiences. This went on in fits and starts for several years as I navigated my own ClearLife terrain, learning from mentors, research, experimentation, community interactions, and my own stumbles along the way.
The framework I’ve crafted, what I call The Eight Awarenesses, focuses on choice, self-awareness, healing, embodiment, and service. It is a tool for anyone seeking to reframe a troubling relationship with any form of escapism, and can be adapted to one’s own pace and personal style. For me, it encapsulates the path to understanding, embracing, and embodying what Japanese refer to as a “chosen sober” life.
Join Me, Us.
Starting next week, I’ll begin to introduce The Eight Awarenesses, diving deep into each one. Content will be drawn from published works, Q&A from people on their version of this journey, contributions from some of you, and members of my IG community. Expect stories, supportive practices, and occasional thought-provoking prompts.
As a teaser, the first Awareness is: My life is better clear. This is the first step—contemplating then ultimately deciding to live without a particular dimmer. Some of you have shared your struggles or insights on this topic. Please feel free to share ideas or questions via email (please include TGIF in the subject) to cecilydeanemak@gmail.com so I can consider including your input (anonymously or not) in upcoming posts.
As I was reminded in the last 24 hours in charting unfamiliar territory as a mom, growing is often messy work. I hope my kids don’t ever feel like they have to “break” from me (though they surely will in some way), but rather find their own paths that allow them to live their best lives.
Onward.
Miscellaneous…
Wearing: A new pair of black, white, and tennis ball yellow Air Jordans my kid spotted on Haight Street last weekend.
Looking forward to: joining a dozen+ fellow female VCs at a SF Tech Week brunch later this morning to host a discussion on investing in start-ups in the wellbeing and mental health space (part of our mission at Wisdom Ventures). Dreams really do come true!
Preparing myself to: run a 5k race with the entire family early tomorrow morning. We celebrate birthdays in new ways these days :)
Can’t wait to read the Eight Awarenesses. Very much into #3--this is my year of intuition and it very much informs my parenting and decision making; I’m eager to hear your version.
Thank you for sharing your story. I look forward to the next 7 steps 🫶🏼