After three years sober, I wanted a non alcoholic beer

No big deal, right? After all, it is NON alcoholic, so how could I possibly have any angst or hold up around this particular beverage? Except that I do, and it has been four hours since I returned from the store, stashed two of the Beck’s NA in the back of the fridge, behind my arsenal of multi flavored soda water, and wondered what the fuss is all about.

My own doubts are born of self questioning my motives: does this mean I secretly want to get drunk? (NO). Does this mean I am trying to create an alcoholic experience without the alcohol? (NO). Will the 12 step recovery police come out and find me, sadly tilt their heads and ask me if I am okay should they see me lift this to my lips?

A text from a sober friend I checked in with over the beer giving me good advice to notice how I feel, but further extrapolating that for her it would be a slippery slope. The look of bewilderment on my partner’s face when I walked in juggling the 6 pack amidst my seltzer cans. “Why did you buy THAT?” he asked when I assured him there was no actual booze in it.

What a fucking mind trip this all is. Over a beverage. And yet, I get it.

For anyone who knew me when I was drinking, it wasn’t a pretty sight, and the idea I may be gliding somehow back towards that behavior would raise alarm bells for anyone who loved me. I didn’t stop drinking because it was fun or hip or interesting to be sober, I stopped drinking because otherwise I would have died.

Alcohol was a friend in the night, a playmate during the day, a lover who I could just never get enough of. I drank to soothe my anxiety, to bolster my social engagements, to fuel adventure and danger and walk the path of the unknown. At the time, I thought I was wild and free and unstoppable. In truth, I was a few fine threads from failing out of my doctorate program, sustaining serious injury, being dangerously assaulted. I took flagrant and unnecessary risks. Inside, I was six levels deeper than morose, jagged and raw from my heart to my stomach, without a clue how to stop.

I don’t recommend this path for anyone, if you can avoid it. If you find my words painting a familiar picture on your insides, reach out for help. The beauty of sobriety these days is that there are all kinds of ways to embrace a life without alcohol. I started in twelve step recovery, found it amazingly helpful, yet started taking a more individualized approach this past year.

Which I believe leads me to the heart of my internal debate over this non alcoholic beer nicely chilled in the back of my fridge. In my twelve step roots, I picked up the idea that drinking NA beers or other non boozy drinks were somehow the devil’s device for a free fall back into the belly of the beast. I am afraid that somehow a single sip will spin me right back to the dark shores of a vacant coastline, devoid of light and color, painted with jagged rocks.

On the more colorful hand, a lovely group of sober women I know through the online world post freely about enjoying NA beers, HopTea, alcohol free Prosecco, and whatever other delicious beverages delight their lips. There is no salty slide on rough desert sand, there is personal choice, good awareness, and continued sobriety.

Rather than run the rubbery friction of self doubt through my brain and bowels, I remember how well I trust myself. How well I know myself. How well I care for myself. I can have a few sips of the Beck’s, when I feel like it, and notice how it goes. I can adjust the rigging in my sails, toss the rest out, or finish it. This is the gift of sobriety; trusting myself to know I can make good decisions, and a community of amazing women to back me up when I need it.