TGIF :: Keep Going.

Weekly drop #38 || A message for anyone trying to shift a habit or emerge from darkness, connected.

Dec 22, 2023

As we in the Northern Hemisphere emerge from the darkest day and longest night of the year—hopefully with a bit of appreciation for the light within us—today’s TGIF speaks to the journey through difficulty with an exploration of the non-obvious reasons humans cry (it’s beautiful!).

One in three Americans—approximately 80 million adults—wanted to drink less alcohol in 2023.1 Surveys suggest that even more want to make a change in 2024. The numbers are similar in the UK and Australia, our “peers” in alcohol consumption rates.

It makes sense. Our collective awareness of the benefits of opting out has been steadily ramping for years. Unfortunately, we still have a long way to go in grokking the more subtle—but equally important—affects of living alcohol-free, such as access to deeper human connections and heightened empathic capacities (not always easy, but certainly life-changing).

I love supporting others in evolving our relationships with various dimming habits, especially explorations of an alcohol-free lifestyle. Fortunately, these choices are increasingly viewed as positive, not concerning. This is a major shift since I opted out for the last time in 2017 when the most common response to my choice to not drink alcohol was, “Oh, I didn’t know you had a problem.”

And to be clear, my own ClearLife journey is far from over. While I don’t drink, I am deepening understanding of my own dimming tendencies (over-doing among them) and applying The Eight Awarenesses to my own path of greater consciousness—and joy. So I get to learn with you.

A North Star

Several years before I paused drinking in 2017, I went hiking with a friend and a new woman in his life. When we concluded the adventure with a stop at the local bar for a round of beers, she ordered a soda.

“You’re not having a beer with us?” I asked.

“Nope. I quit alcohol a few months ago. I was drinking a glass or two of wine a night, by myself. Now I do other things to wind down—take a bath, go for a walk, read, watch a show. I’m much happier, more creative, and healthier without it.”

I was fascinated—and incredulous. She would stop drinking because she wanted to? I didn’t get it. She simply took a break and liked the results. No stigma. No rock bottom. No drama. Just a choice that worked for her. I drank my beer, probably a second, and I don’t know if we saw each other again after that (though I’ve since reached her to let her know she was a North Star on my ClearLife journey).

The conversation (obviously) stuck with me. I didn’t know a lot of people who stopped drinking as a lifestyle choice back then. A few years later when I made a similar decision, for similar reasons, she was an example I could follow. She was healthy, happy with her choices, and not ashamed to talk about it. Maybe I could do that too?

Storytelling ❤️‍🩹

One of the upsides of building an online community around a shared interest—or a movement—is that I get to read and hear people’s stories. I love it when you reach out! This is my favorite part of this work, hearing how people’s lifestyle changes change lives. My heart is regularly blown open reading messages, listening to voice memos, and hearing stories in person. I want to share some of this magic so that others might be inspired too—like I was over beers and a club soda years ago.

To this end, I’m developing a podcast of inspiring ClearLife stories. Season One is overflowing with wonderful and diverse guests, but if you have suggestions, please pass them on! I will share more details as we approach the release date in early 2024.

Walking to the office. December Solstice, 2023.

Moved to Tears.

In recording an interview for the podcast this week, I was touched to hear intimate details of my guest’s journey from “lost” to “clear.” She spoke of how her choice felt right for her, even if friends and family tried to talk her out of it (“You’re fine! You don’t have a problem?!). She highlighted that she chose to stop drinking to meet her own personal needs and desires, not take a general position on living alcohol-free. And she spoke of her sobriety as a type of “glue” for so much magic in her life, and so much more. 🌟

Towards the end of the hour, I asked her: “If you could reach back in time to that version of you at that low point, drinking too much, chasing toxic love, shoving aside intuition, stuck in that behavior loop, what would you say?”

After a pause, she responded:

“Keep going.”

I was instantly flooded with emotion, tears I tried and failed to suppress. I had to take a beat to compose myself and speak again, close the interview.

For the rest of the evening I pondered:Why did this move me to tears?

Why Do We Cry?

These days I pay extra attention when something moves me, makes me choke up—or cry, especially for nonobvious reasons. I’m (slowly) learning to listen to the wisdom of my body, the power of its somatic messages, and reactions that spill forth in some physical way before I can put words to an experience. And I try to not suppress tears or tell myself they’re inappropriate or ill-timed (I obviously still have a long way to go here).

The experience of being instantly and unexplainably moved to tears sparked a bit of research. Why do we cry? What does it mean? Humans are the only species that shed tears triggered by feelings,2 yet there is not a lot of clear or aligned research on the science behind crying, especially tears that aren’t easily attributable to feelings of grief or immense joy.

My favorite theory was highlighted in Time Magazine, The Science of Crying:

Tears also show others that we’re vulnerable, and vulnerability is critical to human connection. “The same neuronal areas of the brain are activated by seeing someone emotionally aroused as being emotionally aroused oneself,” says Trimble, a professor emeritus at University College London. “There must have been some point in time, evolutionarily, when the tear became something that automatically set off empathy and compassion in another. Actually being able to cry emotionally, and being able to respond to that, is a very important part of being human.”

We cry to connect. Of course. As a species we are social, we need each other to survive both physically and emotionally. It makes perfect sense that we’d evolve to instantly feel empathy and compassion when our fellow beings are suffering, and similarly, cry when we need connection. We are wired to seek help and to help others, even if we don’t know them.

When my guest replied, “keep going,” I cried not for sadness or joy—or to evoke empathy per se, but likely in some deep and uniquely human subconscious way of letting her know I could see her, and I sensed she could see me. The inner experience was “I feel you” and “I can tell that you can feel me.” I was left in awe that two humans who have never met in person can connect so deeply, and over zoom.

Keep Going, No Matter What You’re After

Statistically, at least a third of you would like to dim (drink, drug, spend, watch) less of something in 2024. Whether it’s a spouse, a doctor, a friend, or your intuition nudging you to make a change, know that you are among tens of millions of people seeking to do something similar. You are surrounded by community, support, and encouragement, even if you can’t see it yet. We just need to be real, do our best, and what we need will show up.

May we all find fellow humans we can relate to, be inspired by, or supported by in some way as we leave this shortest, darkest day of the year behind us, and keep going.

Love. ❤️‍🩹