How Joy Impacts Recovery
What happens when you decide to live sober – for a month or a lifetime – but still yearn for danger and chaos, still hope for a secret path to joy? How can you find the sort of raw and crazy connection that used to come in boozy, dive-bar confession sessions? Can you still be dirty and wild, can you take a super-blissed out vacation, can you trip out on life, can you fall in love, holding a ginger ale?
The Sober Lush – Amanda Eyre Ward & Jardine Libaire
What will my life look like when I get sober?
I remember googling that question obsessively when I first stopped drinking. I wanted to know all the things. How would I fill my time? What would I be doing? Would I still have fun? What would I feel like?
I really wanted to know if I would be happier if I was no longer drinking. If I would still be able to find moments of joy. Which is so bloody ironic, because sitting alone, drinking on my couch was bringing in exactly zero moments of joy. But, how the mind likes to play tricks on you.
It was hard to find an answer. And, at the time I remember being super frustrated. This was in the days when there wasn’t as much quit lit floating around. There were a few blogs I found. A few memoirs. But, no one really answered the questions I had.
Now, six years into my own sobriety, I understand why I couldn’t find a satisfying answer. Because, sobriety, just like alcohol use, is on a continuum of experiences. Everyone has their own highly personalized journey. There is no one way to live a sober life – some people seem to be filled with nothing but anger and resentment at the fact they can’t drink like “normies” (which is definitely my least favorite word in the sober sphere – not sure why putting poison in your body is seen as a norm?). Others are living lives that large, and raucous and full of joy (along with all the other emotions.) And, most are somewhere in the middle.
I’m not sure I even knew what joy really was when I first got sober. I was newly divorced. My drinking had ramped up as a result. I was spending a lot of time alone on my couch when my kids were at their dad’s. I was also spending time drinking with others who like to drink as much as I did. Most of this occurred in dark, dingy bars and pubs; with the odd wine-bar thrown in to class things up. This was what I was doing with my life.
I was numb to pretty much everything else, except for that anticipatory rush of having that first sip of wine. Beyond that I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I didn’t really know what joy felt like. I felt empty after a night of drinking. If I was out with others I often felt empty too. There wasn’t any real connection – leftovers the next morning included snippets of faded conversations, or gaps I desperately tried to. I had no sense of who I was, and what I liked. I didn’t know how to let joy in because I didn’t know what it felt like.
Actually, that’s not true. I thought I knew what joy felt like. I though joy felt like a manic rush of emotions or an overwhelming high that leaves you feeling out of control. I was always chasing that frantic, fleeting moment, filled with excitement and adrenaline, which would burn out quickly and leave me feeling drained.
Instead, joy is quieter, more grounded, and steady. It doesn’t demand attention or sweep you up in a whirlwind of feelings. It’s more like a gentle undercurrent, a peaceful presence that sustains you, even in small moments. Unlike fleeting highs, joy lingers and grows deeper with time, offering a sense of contentment and ease.
When I first became sober I had no idea what I was going to do for fun, to fill up my time, to indulge myself. I had assigned alcohol to carry out all those jobs. I had to dig down real deep to figure out why I was hiding on my couch.
I was looking outside myself to find joy. Placing my bet on a substance to lift me up after a difficult day at work, a fight with my partner, or feeling stressed about my finances. We have been told that to look outside ourselves for joy is acceptable. It’s what we do in a capitalist society – buy something, consume something, chase something.
Removing alcohol from your life will definitely create a void. It’s naïve to think that it won’t. But, that doesn’t mean you have to leave that void empty. You get to fill it with the things that bring you joy, that used to bring you joy, that you’ve always wanted to try to bring you joy.
I can’t tell you how to find joy, you need to do the work yourself. It takes a lot of experimenting. It takes a lot of time by yourself, asking yourself questions. It’s learning who you are, what makes you feel alive, what shuts you down. Who are the people who light you up, who are the people who make you feel threatened.
Spend some time journaling. Spend some time brainstorming. List building can be an easy way to start. Pick one thing you wrote down to try. Even if you suck at it. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if you’re not sure why you’re doing it. Then notice how you feel after.
What does joy bring to the recovery process? Joy grows, heals, and restores the brain.
Joy is what connects you to the creative and rebellious side of sobriety.
If you’re ready to get curious about your relationship with alcohol you can learn more HERE.
I’ve got you.