The first few years of sobriety have brought some whiplash. 

Did you watch Grace and Frankie? No spoilers, but after their lives irrevocably blow up, episode one ends when Jane Fonda turns to Lily Tomlin and asks, “Now what?”

After the better part of a decade of adventures and misadventures—which is to say, friendship—the final episode of the series ends when Jane Fonda turns to Lily Tomlin and asks, “Now what?”

Play with those words in your head. Imagine a house full of children, and you hear a crash in the next room. “Now what?”

You finish your first half-marathon, look around, arms above your head in triumph. “Now what?”

You finish wiping a spill from the wall only to notice a stain in the ceiling. “Now what?”

You score a third-round interview for that dream job but someone else gets the position. “Now what?”

When I decided I was done drinking, I felt the puppy-like energy of a new adventure. The decision felt right, and true, and I was confident it was correct for me. But I was also scared. Maybe embarrassed, or feeling timid. On little Bambi legs.

I made quick work of the early logistics. How do I talk to my family about this? What words even apply to what I’m doing here?

It wasn’t a coming out exactly, but I sensed there would be some new ways of going through life over on this side of the decision. There were questions I’d never considered. How does a person who doesn’t drink turn down a drink that’s being held out to them? What does a person who doesn’t drink order at a bar, or at a fancy dinner, or a wedding?

What does it feel like to be a person who doesn’t drink at a networking event where all the small talk is about wine and beer? 

What does it feel like to be a person who doesn’t drink at a kid’s birthday party where every other adult is drinking?

Culture is the air we’re breathing. It’s possible to take it in and swim around without thinking. I’m approaching three years sober, and my sea legs are sturdy. Not drinking has been relatively easy. Being sober has not always been.

A year into sobriety I sank into the deepest depression of my life.

Two years into sobriety my weight peaked, and while it wasn’t a health scare, my health scared me.

No one ever said sobriety meant rainbows and butterflies 24/7, but each new challenge did check my expectations. I stopped drinking, I did this huge thing, but the crap keeps coming.

Yeah, well, the crap does keep coming. The corollary is something like, Can you imagine if I was drinking over this? Each fresh hell would be so much more impossible to handle if I had to drink through it. Period.

When you increase your capacity, more problems rise to the level of your awareness. It just happens. Crisis—and anxiety, and drugs—narrow the aperture. Calm and peace let the light in.

I’m free to raise my head, take a long look around, and ask myself, “Now what?”

The good news is, there’s always something else to work on. That bad news is, there’s always something else to work on.

But the good news is, there’s always something else to work on.

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