I had parents who saw the signs of an anxiety disorder (and later depression) and took the appropriate steps to get me the help and reassurance that I needed. It sounds odd to admit, but there are a number of reasons that I am glad depression and anxiety are somewhat common in my family.
An Addict's Experience with Staying Sober in NYC
Last Friday, I worked 8 hours on my feet at my retail job in SoHo. As much as I love people, it’s emotionally taxing to be “on” for an entire day with a smile on my face. Towards the end of my shift, I was pretty grumpy. On my train ride home, my grumpiness continued when I realized the train had no seats left. I had to stand for 20 more minutes, shoulder to shoulder with stinky strangers in a crowded little box.
I stood there, with my eyes closed, picturing myself taking a bath while drinking a big glass of wine. This delusional thought was so relaxing, I may have even smiled. When the train slammed on its brakes, and I had to get off at my stop, it brought me right back to my reality: I. Can’t. Drink. Wine was never even my drink of choice, I was always more of a Jack Daniels straight from the bottle kind of gal (#classy).
I stood there, with my eyes closed, picturing myself taking a bath while drinking a big glass of wine. This delusional thought was so relaxing, I may have even smiled.
I’ve been sober for over a year, and I still struggle with the fact that I can never drink again. This very thought can be overwhelming sometimes. On the 10 minute walk home, I listened to a few fracks from Coldplay’s first album, Parachutes. The piano intro to “Trouble” was the soothing melody that I needed in that moment. It calmed me down. It helped me accept the fact that taking a bath and enjoying a glass of wine are not viable options for me because my apartment doesn’t have a working bathtub and I have a terribly unhealthy relationship with alcohol.
As soon as I got home, I made a warm cup of tea and put on some comfy clothes. I sipped my tea in the comfort of my bed while writing in my journal. In this moment, I remembered how for years I chose to drink until I forgot what was stressing me out. Now in sobriety, I choose to pause and reflect on the madness of my day. I identify my stressors and how they made me feel.
After journaling, I meditated for 20 minutes. I laid there in my dark bedroom as I felt the day throb through me. My body ached. My mind was mush. I took a series of deep breaths, desperate to find relaxation. The sirens, honking, and yelling outside my window are customary now. My mind has accepted these background noises as non-negotiable. This is urban city life. It hurts. It’s loud. It’s triggering. It’s not for everyone. Sometimes, I have to remind myself why it’s for me.
My body ached. My mind was mush. I took a series of deep breaths, desperate to find relaxation. The sirens, honking, and yelling outside my window are customary now. My mind has accepted these background noises as non-negotiable.
New York City life is tough. Sobriety in this city is even tougher. Somehow, the two came together and worked for me. As much as I wish I could have come home to a relaxing glass of wine, I’m happy that I chose to unwind in a different way. I do wish my bathtub worked though.
Tawny Lara is a Texan who currently resides in New York City. Her blog, SobrieTeaParty, documents her continuous evolution from a drunk party girl to a sober woman. She feels most alive when she’s exploring activities outside of her comfort zone. When Tawny isn’t writing, she’s studying Spanish, working out, eating tacos, interpreting song lyrics, or all of the above.