TGIF :: Is Life Really Better Clear?
#79 || No one can answer this one for us; it's an inside job.
Thank you for trusting me with your time. As of today you are among 4,000 readers in 110 countries who have gradually joined me here since I posted my first TGIF in April of last year. Humbling and heart opening! Thank you for learning with me. 🙏🏼
I’m often asked how and when I “knew” I was finished with my primary dimmer (alcohol), awkwardly stumbling into The First Awareness: My Life is Better Clear. This week, a reader’s comment on that legacy post, paired with the sensory cues of sweater season here in Northern California, brought me back to my early days of abstaining, not, then abstaining again. Today I revisit that journey with a gentle reminder about self-grace. ❤️
Seven years ago this month, I was approaching three months alcohol-free, an “extension” of what started as a 30-day experiment. If you follow my ClearLife work, you know the story: I committed to a “clear” month in September to navigate the early stages of my divorce. It went so well that I extended it through October and then into November. Aside from some social awkwardness, I felt great. My to-do list was free of persistent carry-overs, I started running again, my clothes fit better, and I felt more calm, clear, and centered. (I recently told the longer version of the story in this podcast).
Is My Life Actually Better Clear?
Around this time, I was invited to a nice dinner out in San Francisco—a date, in a fun, unspoken way. It was a cold, rainy night and the iconic restaurant, perched on a corner in a hip neighborhood, was packed. After a short wait, we were seated at a small candle lit table near the bar.
“Should we have a drink?” he asked, scanning the menu. I paused, thinking, I’d far exceeded my one-month “dry” goal. If there was ever a time for a nice glass of wine, it’s now.
“Sure.”
When the waiter set my glass down, I shivered. The glass itself was beautiful, not one of those cheap and durable restaurant glasses. It was tall and thin, probably hand buffed. The wine itself glowed a ruby hue in our dimly lit space.
Wow. I get to do this, I thought, feeling a little thrill. It’s been almost three months—easy. Clearly don’t have a “problem,” so why not? We clinked glasses and exchanged careful smiles. I took a slow and conscious sip of my Russian River pinot noir. It tasted syrupy, sweeter than usual (had my palate changed?). I drank it slowly, in micro-sips, throughout our two-hour meal.
Though our conversation was steady, my mind raced privately, pulling me out of the moment, distracted: Does it matter that I broke my dry streak? Should I tell anyone? Is it weird if I don’t? If I finish this, should I have another? How soon would I need to finish it to have the right amount of time to enjoy a second? Do I feel a buzz? Do I want to? Will I have a drink tomorrow or over the weekend? Is this… fun?
A week went by and I didn’t have another drink, though I considered it several times. It was empowering to know that I was consciously making the choice to drink something else—water, tea, anything other than alcohol—each day without much, if any strife. I still felt free, maybe even a bit victorious—liberated from the tug from something I’d worried might have me in its grip. And life was starting to feel more steady, less volatility.
Oh, The Holidays
Feeling confident and free, in December I started to experiment with occasional drinking again. I mean, I wasn’t addicted, and it was the holiday season.
I enjoyed a wine tasting (benign), drank a bit at a holiday party (no big deal), and felt like a “normal” person (yay). I reminded myself of something my late mother used to say: “Only addicts have to stop. Everything in moderation!”
Unlike prior years, when I’d often have a drink or more at home after work, I didn’t keep any alcohol in my temporary sublet apartment. I was enjoying a new herbal tea + journal ritual at night. I noticed my handwriting is better without wine—and reading before bed was much more enjoyable clear-headed. Though I had a drink here and there when I felt like it. Again, no big deal. Overall, I declined drinks more than accepted them, but I certainly wasn’t abstaining anymore.
Dimmed.
That Christmas Eve, we hosted the family holiday as always—fifteen family members, young kids, and grandparents gathered in our family home. But 2017 was different. I had moved out just three months earlier, and we were in the early stages of a divorce. Despite the tension and countless unknowns, the kids’ dad and I set aside our differences to keep things “steady” for the them with various “nesting” and other odd adjustments to soften the blows of change. Barely. It was a hard time for all of us and that holiday meal was no exception.
I was deeply uncomfortable for the entire evening, knowing that since I’d moved out, “the other woman” had begun spending time in our family home when the kids were with me. I found myself scanning each room for signs of her presence. Did she rearrange the books and photos on the shelf that way? Why the unused space in the mudroom—had her belongings hung there just hours before? Was she using our family towels?
You get the idea.
And I had several glasses of wine that night, not because I was enjoying them as a compliment to the festivities or my meal, but to get through. To feel less. To dim out. After one more night of overindulgence later that week followed by a wicked hangover, I accepted a challenge from a friend to go the entire year of 2018 without a drop. “No thanks” felt easier than “sometimes” for some reason.
And, it was.
“I hope you never drink again.”
Throughout that year, another “experiment,” I had a lot of questions, perhaps the biggest: “Am I an alcoholic?” When I sought answers, I was reassured by someone who really knows his stuff that no, I’m not, but I could certainly find myself addicted, in that lifelong camp, if I kept at it.
So the year went by. I experienced it all—the holidays, the birthdays, the joys, and the difficulties—all without alcohol. I stayed curious throughout, observing my inclinations, appreciating agency, and trying to find my place in the world I’d built around me that loved to drink. I started an Instagram, @clearlifejourney, where I could (then) anonymously connect with others having a similar experience. There were plenty of awkward moments. It took me a while to figure out (1) how little people actually cared that I was abstaining, (2) that people with a drink in their hand don’t really want to hear how great it feels to be alcohol free, and (3) a “no thanks” is a good enough answer.
When 2018 ended, instead of celebrating achieving a goal with a drink (as several expected me to do), I kept going. It will be seven years since my last drink next month.
My Life is Better Clear.
I’m often asked: “When did you know that you’d never drink again?” My answer surprises people: “Never.” I make the decision to not drink every day.
The real takeaway from that year “clear” was that I like my life without alcohol more than I like my life with it. Sure, there are times when it would be nice to join in the fun, take the edge off, whatever it is. Yet overall, the upsides of these daily choices far outweigh any loss or sacrifice, so I continue to make the choice to life alcohol free, every single day.
This is the beautiful nuance of The First Awareness—really the entirety of The Eight Awarenesses. Choice. Freedom. Agency. This is all an inside job. We get to decide how we want to live—if we are among the tens of millions of people who inhabit the place between “not interested” and “addicted.” (You can read more about this helpful perspective and framework in Addiction & Choice).
The Journey Continues.
All of these years out, it all seems quite clear to me, my experience, at least. I was using alcohol (the same way I still use other dimmers to this day) in both healthy and unhealthy ways. That glass of wine in the restaurant? Healthy (though distracting). Several glasses to “get through” Christmas Eve dinner a week later? Unhealthy (for me). And the nuance, the sensitive parts, the interesting parts… those are what lie in between. What is our why? What do we not want to feel or hear? How do we want to spend our time? What would happen if we faced what we have been trying to avoid?
Self-Grace
All of this said, let us please go easy on ourselves. Generally, we are all doing our best with the tools and circumstances we have in each moment. Perfection is not the goal.
Self-grace is not self-compassion, self-love, or even self-forgiveness. It is a gentleness, a kindness, an empathy we can extend to ourselves. The invitation is to accept, understand, and learn from our experiences and choices—even if we might regret some of them—and move forward, keep going. Try again.
Wishing you abundant curiosity, courage, and self-grace as we enter the holiday season this year. We’ve got this.
Love! ❤️
Miscellaneous…
✨ Meditation Check-In… I’m doing alright with this! I am sitting almost all days, and noticing patterns. Finding time in the first hour awake is best for me. I have yet to refresh my altar. Soon! Self-grace :)
🧘🏻♀️ Speaking of Meditation… If you want to put a little energy towards your own practice, consider joining Soren and me for the donation-based series we are hosting next month. The teachers joining us are true jewels of our time, and we get to spend an hour in practice and Q&A with each of them. Details here: Stillness Within: Cultivating Presence in Uncertain Times, with guest teachers Roshi Joan Halifax, Trudy Goodman, Jon Kabat-Zinn, Rhonda Magee and Sharon Salzberg, along with community sessions.
☀️ A New Year Reset in Baja! There are still a few spots left for this magical seaside week of play, inner work, and exploration of The Eight Awarenesses. Details here. Use CHIP25 for a 25% discount upon registration. Scholarships still available too (let’s use them!).
💡 On Substack Recommendations… This is how we find each other! If you are a content creator on this platform, here’s a reminder to use this tool. You can view my recommendations in the sidebar on my Substack website here, each one chosen carefully and with intention. I’d love to know yours.
Great article Cecily! My experience exactly. Thanks for sharing.