Shattered
Folks, I hope you’re ready for some real talk this week. Because I’m about to get REALLY real here today. I would love to hear some more of your feedback, comments, and stories.
By the way – I’ve been dreaming up ways for us all to share together one day soon (an interactive Facebook group? Maybe a second weekly newsletter out on Tuesdays that shares YOUR stories?) I truly appreciate all the responses I’ve received over the last two weeks and I hope that you resonate with my story below. If you do, please let me know by hitting <reply> and your response will go straight to my inbox.
About two weeks ago, I was throwing away a tissue in the kitchen trash can when Josh urged, “be careful, there’s glass in there!” When I inquired what glass it was, he guiltily responded that it was my 2018 New York City Marathon wine glass. He also said he was extremely sorry for breaking it. My stomach dropped as I stepped through several emotions simultaneously, including grief, anger, and sadness. I angrily stomped around the kitchen preparing dinner for Savannah as I mourned the loss of my favorite wine glass. I knew it was only a glass, but it also represented all the hard work, time, and energy I had poured into training for the marathon last fall, ultimately earning myself a 16 minute personal best marathon time.
“You know, I can’t buy that glass again, Josh. I got it at the expo and they sold out,” I spit out angrily. He said he was sorry, again. Yet I perseverated on the glass, thinking about the first sip of Cabernet I drank out of it on the evening of the marathon. In that moment I celebrated five months worth of hard, relentless work, and it was all shattered in one careless swoop of the hand while putting dishes back in the cupboard.
As the night went on, and we performed the frenzied dinner-bath-bedtime dance with Savannah, my anger about the glass wore off. But over the next several days, it still lingered in my mind, taunting me with its symbolism.
My favorite wine glass, featuring my fastest marathon, had shattered into a thousand pieces and,
I hadn’t run in over a month, since I intentionally stopped training for the NYC Half Marathon one month prior.
I was on Day 4 of a 48 day sobriety experiment.
Some will say it was a coincidence. And I don’t believe in a lot of “woo woo” stuff, but to me, it was a big sign.
It was a sign that, in that moment, I was doing exactly the right thing.
For the last decade, I have identified as a runner and as someone who enjoys drinking. For three years, I even wrote a blog called “Trails & Cocktails”, in which I detailed stories of my trail running exploits and the beers, wine, and cocktails I drank along the way. I’m very grateful for my twenties, during which I honed my writing voice, ran plenty of ultramarathons, and drank my fair share of IPA’s.
But in early February, I gave up running and training for the NYC half in order to focus on my mental health and to do things that feel resonant with my life today. By temporarily removing running from my life, I’ve been able to spend more time with my family, and more time reading and writing.
Despite having more time to do things that bring me peace, I still found myself pouring a nightly glass (or two) of wine to calm my anxieties, stress, and fears. In fact, for as long as I can remember, alcohol has been there to help me wind down after a long, hard day at work, or to celebrate…anything. It didn’t have to be a lot – even just one glass was enough to take the edge off of my feelings, and to reassure me that everything was okay. A pour of Sauvignon Blanc helped me deal with toddler tantrums. A glass of Malbec helped quell the lingering resentment after a long commute home through Philly traffic.
But recently, I felt like something was still off, leaving me with unresolved pain and resentment. I think I’ve known all along that someone struggling with feelings of depression shouldn’t necessarily be imbibing a daily depressant.
Enter my experiment.
From March 4th through April 20th, I’ve committed to living alcohol-free. I’ve committed to this experiment, not because I believe I need to, but because I am curious as to how my life can improve and grow without alcohol in my life.
Deep down, I want to answer the question, “would life be better without alcohol?”
The truth is, I don’t know yet.
* * *
You see, I was upset because it was so much more than just a shattered wine glass. It represented the two activities that I had identified with most in my twenties, running and drinking – activities I stripped off within a month of each other, leaving myself in a raw and vulnerable state.
I am on Day 19 of my alcohol-free experiment today, and it has been easier than I expected. Some days are harder than others, especially some social events, but it’s forced me to examine why I might be uncomfortable in certain situations. It’s also forced me to be more in touch with my inner self than I’ve been in fifteen years.
I’m excited and anxious to see how I feel at the end of these seven weeks. I chose a fairly arbitrary amount of time - a month felt too short, but 48 days lined up pretty well with Passover/Easter celebrations. I will share updates throughout, but I will be cognizant not to preach, because I know that at the end of this journey I may decide to make alcohol a part of my life again.
But – and this is important – whether you are a runner, a drinker, or neither, the message remains the same.
It’s crucial we periodically check in with ourselves to pose the question “is this habit helping me be the best version of myself right now?”
If the answer is no, or if you don’t know the answer, it might be time for an experiment of your own.
My ultimate goal for LSORL is to build a community of Real Life Sharers who are brave enough to speak their truths and fight stigmas.
I’d love to hear what you thought of this edition, so please feel free to share your thoughts or your own story with me by hitting reply.
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