I quit drinking three months ago – it’s not as easy as the internet makes it seem | Ashe Davenport

aOn the surface, sobriety looks good on social media – and relatively easy to achieve. A quick search for sober motivation will send you on a stream of brightly colored lists that advise making plans that don’t involve alcohol, spending time with friends who support your choices, trying new things (like mocktails!) and taking a walk to combat the craving for alcohol. The posts are often accompanied by an influencer with white teeth standing on a mountain in a bikini.

The internet paints a picture of sobriety smoothed around the edges, with the occasional problem of vulnerability; a woman pushing her toddler on a swing with the caption “I was here buzzing with vodka”; a word tile that reads: “I realized drunk women are easier to control.” Darkness creeps in, but then it’s back to normal programming; memes and hashtags and diary writing at dawn.

I stopped drinking three months ago under the illusion that it would be as simple as buying leggings with the offer code sobergalclub. But I haven’t enjoyed better sleep or increased productivity yet. I don’t look back on my years of drug and alcohol use “with no regrets,” as one influencer who achieved 30 days of sobriety mused. I have infinite regrets. My cup is overflowing.

Although I did take a walk, which is new to me.

Since getting sober, I’ve been busy tackling my previously ignored gum disease and a thyroid condition that I had masked with alcohol. I’m in bed by 9pm, which should be my new happy place according to the sober internet, but I’m struggling to ‘find a book’ with a ‘cup of something sweet’ because of the paralysis-inducing pressure to be the best become. optimized version of myself at night, my bikini prepared for the next morning’s photo shoot.

Addiction problems are noted among internet users, but are generally not addressed. There might be a before-and-after photo reveal: here’s me alcohol addicted, now here’s sober me. Or a post that references past struggles with addiction before ultimately finding happiness in sobriety. There is a feeling that sobriety is the answer to all of life’s problems.

It’s a world where addiction is history and sobriety is an end product. Sober influencers have pulled themselves out of the pit of addiction and emerged from under a waterfall at golden hour. They have arrived at their destination and are now sharing their experiences to inspire others to follow a similar path.

I’m happy for them – but it’s all too neat. I long for messy, intimate details about their struggles with alcohol so I can feel less alone in mine. But they don’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t expect a stranger in the grocery store to guide me through her darkest hour.

I recently attended my twenty-year high school reunion, where I learned that nine of my peers had died since graduation, most due to drug and alcohol abuse. A boy I played basketball with had a drug-induced heart attack in Mexico. A girl in my English class became addicted to ice cream.

Sobriety is a “life hack” because it can keep you alive.

I shared my decision to quit drinking on social media. People liked my post and sent me DMs about their own experiences with quitting alcohol, or wanted to. There is an extensive community of sober people online, but ultimately we are alone.

I joined a local amateur choir because I can only do so many gratitude journals in my spare time. We meet weekly and practice choral arrangements of Crowded House songs. I have to listen carefully to the people on either side of me to find their voice and align mine with theirs.

It requires delicate concentration, like threading a needle. If I’m louder or softer than the group, I’m doing it wrong. During the break we drink tea and eat cookies that someone has brought from home. We talk about our days. It’s peaceful.

There’s an AA meeting at my house tonight, but I don’t think I qualify. I don’t think I had an alcohol addiction, but when I drank I often made very bad decisions, the kind that jeopardized my safety.

For now, I’m grateful for the quotes and fine editing skills of the online sober community, and for my weekly sing-along. I have noted the details of the AA meeting, although the thought of attending gives me a lump in my throat. I’m glad to know it’s there.