365 days, one year. (EDIT : the official year date is hard for me to pin point since I made the decision to make it a year without alcohol in the middle of August 2023–I’m finding that the choice was really made at the end of July—still not 💯 sure which date was the last day I had my last sip of alcohol—needless to say the thoughts and feeling that follow in this blog post still apply and all the lessons have deeply impacted me) (Technically 366 because of the leap year—really wanted to go that extra mile haha) One year (366 days) without any alcohol. In some ways, I'm at a loss for words, but only because I have so much to say and don't know where to begin. These 366 days have been transformative, and I feel lighter on the other side. For most of my life, I struggled with low self-esteem, primarily due to challenging social interactions outside the home. My parents were always my safe space. However, despite their constant presence, I often felt like an outsider in social situations, especially as someone who identifies as a late-diagnosed autistic person. I never knew how to join conversations, struggled with reciprocal energy, and often didn't share the same interests as my peers. Feedback during my middle and high school years only reinforced this sense of not belonging. Whether it was my so-called "friends" sophomore year of high school telling me I could meet up with them in town, only to ghost me by not answering my calls and texts—leading me to sit on the grassy knoll by the church because I was too ashamed to walk home—or feeling like an outsider on my soccer teams despite my efforts to be pleasant, it always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Every year, without fail, something would happen that caused my friends to drift away, and I could never pinpoint why. Usually, it was something I did, but even after months or years of ruminating, I still couldn’t figure out how I could have done things differently. I know now that I was missing social cues and reading events in an atypical way. I take responsibility for the fact that I caused friends to drift away, but it was because my instincts on how to be social weren’t great. All these events taught me, subconsciously, that Ava wasn’t enough and that I had to keep adjusting myself to fit into this world. Not immediately, but over time and definitely once I was of the legal drinking age, alcohol became a coping mechanism for my low self-esteem. I had all this “relationship trauma” stored within me, I was anxious to be around people and interact because of all the past experiences with peers. Alcohol helped me stop overthinking and "relaxed" me. Friends would tell me that "drunk Ava was way more fun," and in some ways, she was. But eventually, my true self would unmask, and all the pain and sadness would spill out. I realize now that these were the meltdowns I couldn't always have in my day-to-day life. People were often confused by my sudden emotional outbursts, which were difficult to understand and fix. I still received feedback that I didn't quite "fit in" and wasn't "doing life right.
Fortunately, I found my husband, Kevin, who has healed me in so many ways. He has always allowed me to be myself, loving me, flaws and all. Although I tried to keep my drinking in check, I used it as a way to cope with overwhelming and overstimulating environments. At social gatherings, I often felt uncomfortable in my own skin and relied on liquid courage to ease conversations and keep my hands busy. However, when my sons' disabilities became more challenging, I felt an increasing need to cope with my emotions. I tried to avoid these feelings by making it all "feel" better with alcohol. Outside of my sons' disabilities, I was also grappling with feelings of rejection and being discarded, and alcohol helped not feel that pain. This year, I've learned to face my emotions head-on without the crutch of alcohol. It has been a wild ride and something I never thought I would be able to accomplish. There were many times I was so present in the moment, knowing that in any other year I would be having a drink. Instead, I chose to be uncomfortable and sit with myself. I had to actually intellectualize and pin point what was causing me pain and then allow myself to feel that feeling (wild, I know). I highly recommend that everyone takes a conscious break from any substance they find they are too willing to use as an autopilot mechanism because it really illuminates the choices we make. This year has been a journey of self-discovery and healing, and I'm proud of the progress I've made. 365 days without alcohol has shown me that I am enough, just as I am. As I move past this one-year mark, I will reassess my relationship with alcohol. My goal is to be like my mother, who can nurse one drink all night (the dream)! I won’t know until I reintroduce it how I can move forward, so be patient with me as I figure it all out. I am so thankful to the friends and family who have supported me this past year. I couldn’t have done all this physical, mental, and emotional work without you.
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Ava Elise
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