volume one hundred and thirty-five

(some) lies my alcoholism told me

📍Written in Yuin Country (Bermagui) with a sleeping dog curled up like a pretzel in the sun patch on the bed behind me.

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LIE: I cannot choose an outfit.

The years I spent choosing what I wanted to wear, based on how people would perceive me, hate it, try on something else, hate it again and repeat were a waste. I would go through several outfits before pouring myself a drink and then returning to my original choice, having gained the “courage” to be “myself”, which was actually just the version I thought people would like the most.

A few months into my sobriety, I angrily started tossing fast-fashion dresses, grey knitted sweaters and plain black pants and skirts onto my floor. These were never me. These were all the worlds I tried to fit into. There were items I squashed myself into so I wouldn’t feel like the odd one out around certain friends. There were items I accumulated because I allowed myself to be domesticated into boring by a boy. There were the work clothes that certain jobs made me feel that if I wore them, that would make me better at what I did, and not my work ethic or skillset that did that.

I said byyyyyyyyyye to them all and hello to Lauren!

Now, I pick the thing that first stands out to me for my mood that day. My wardrobe is much smaller and more refined. What remained behind were lots of patterns, colours, faux fur, animal print and leather. The items I own are truly me, not chosen with any outside pressure. (Just the occasional muse.) I own less, and I love me more.

LIE: I cannot create.

I always created. From a young child I was drawing, writing, performing, dancing, dressing up and getting into character and if anyone would let me, I would put on a show. 

Well into my first years of high school, I was still in a choir, acting classes, dance, school plays, music and I excelled in my art class and anything in English that allowed me to write stories.

By the time I started stand-up comedy many years later, I could never write or perform without a drink (or several) in me. I did not dare to get on stage and tell jokes or share my written work with others without numbing the critic.

I heard recently that “my writer wakes up before my editor”. Now I wake up and write and write. Clear-headed. With heart. I feel everything now: the bad yes, but also the good. Nothing is numbed and I experience all of the highs and lows of the reward creating something out of nothing but a keyboard, coloured markers and paper, or my thoughts.

The first time I performed stand-up sober, I thought that when I didn’t get nervous all day it would arrive when I got to the show. When that didn’t happen I thought it would when I was up next. When that didn’t happen I assumed it would hit when I got on stage.

It never hit. 

LIE: I cannot speak to strangers.

This meant to say hello in the street for fear they wouldn’t say it back. This meant making small talk while waiting for a bus. This meant with the person next to me on a plane. This meant asking them to take my photo while travelling solo. (Thank goodness for self-timer! The photos were never as good though!) This meant connecting when I could see we were both alone at an event. (Ha! As if I went to an event alone back then!) This meant to compliment them. This meant to ask for directions, recommendations or suggestions.

This list are all the things I speak with ease now. I even speak them with excitement at the opportunity to connect with another person. I love strangers. I love expanding my world. I love expanding my knowledge outside of my own head. I love going places solo and seeing what happens.

Do you know why?

Because both the conversations, and my world, are no longer about me.

LIE: I cannot travel.

I like to travel alone and drinking in bars alone was the easiest way to meet people, therefore being alone but not feeling lonely. Leaving the house often gave me anxiety, so sitting at a bar talking to a bartender gave me a false sense of purpose.

I leave the house now for museum days, gallery visits, historic tours, divine meals, public events in the sun, bike rides, queer events, markets, library sessions, recovery meetings, ice cream double scoops, tree hugs, live comedy, yoga, ocean swims, walks to tall points for a good view, massages, getting dogs out for a sniff of the neighbourhood and more.

All of these are places I might take a friend. None of them are places I need to make a friend in order to have a good time.

LIE: I cannot enjoy Friday afternoons and I cannot enjoy Sundays.

Fridays between 5pm and 6pm were the times I found myself wanting get fucked up and my journal entries from this time do not lie. But then again, by a certain point, when wasn’t that time?

Growing up in sunny Down Under, where people have bumper stickers that say things like “I am not an alcoholic, I am Australian”, Sundays were when drinking from morning until early bed meant a Sunday well spent. 

Friday afternoons are different and better now. I wrap my work by mid-morning (because a result of my sobriety is a wonderfully balanced work life as a freelancer) and I take myself on an Artist’s Date.

Sundays are sacred. They are still my favourite day of the week for different reasons. No phone, no laptop, little plans. I take the day as it comes and I welcome what may invite me to participate — without that being necessary — and I fall asleep on Sunday nights rejuvenated and accomplished and best of all, excited for Monday.

LIE: I cannot be around my family.

Almost everyone in my family drinks, both immediate and extended. Their idea of a family hangout is a barbeque, a snack table or a picnic, with drinks. How could I be around them and not partake?

Now I am capable of (and happy to) help set-up and pack down, making myself a guest I can be proud of. I ask my family questions and listen to the answers because I am interested in getting to know them better and not just waiting for my turn to speak with my no-filter slurring.

Best of all? I have all the energy and excitement to run around the yard with my sibkids and play games. My inner child comes out and family gatherings are spent very similarly to how they were when I was young: blissed out in play.

LIE: I cannot date. 

My sexuality can be described as “it’s complicated”. I am far too nervous and awkward and terrified of what might happen on a date that in order to muster the courage to leave the house the date had to be somewhere drinks existed, and I had to have many before I walked out the door.

Now? I can buy myself flowers. I have never been more content not to date for the sake of dating. I am whole and happy and grounded and motivated to continue pursuing the life of my dreams.

And when I meet someone who I hit it off with or who I would like to get to know better, I approach it with honesty, curiosity and care for myself and them. I have met some truly amazing people and enjoyed many lovely interactions and connections while being single and sober. These connections far exceed any of the ones I experienced in my years of drinking. 

LIE: I cannot sleep properly.

I would often drink to the point of passing out on the lounge watching TV, giving myself all possible distractions from life.

These days, I practice my skincare after a delicious shower. I drink water. I journal. Sometimes I read. Often I pray.

The last thing I say to the universe before I calmly and naturally wind down my day and let my head hit the pillow is “Thank you”. 

LIE:  I am going to lose all my friends.

My birthday parties used to have upwards of forty people in attendance. My house, whether living solo or with others, was the place where I invited people often, and the more the better. I was out every night with whoever was the first to invite me there. I was double-booked regularly. I loved any excuse to get many people together for a good time and a long night. I was known for bringing people together.

My birthday this year was solo, by the ocean, and it was the best yet. My future home will always be somewhere I hope those I love know they can come for a bite and a chat. I stay in most nights and take care of my need for rest, relaxing, unwinding, nourishing and learning, unless there is somewhere to go I know that attending will light my soul on fire.

I did lose friends. I lost quite a few. Slowly but surely they disappeared one by one when the party was over.

But I gained so much more with the ones that stayed and the ones that appeared in my sober circles. My friendships that remain are strong, true, joyous, without pressure and most of all, they are real.

LIE: I cannot dance or enjoy live music.

I needed drinks in me to make my way to the dance floor, only to then proceed to “silly” dance and make sure to laugh at myself the entire time so that no one thought that I ever thought I was any good at this.

I now enjoy solo dance house parties to my favourite tunes and when I go out to see live music or dance in public my entire body lights up and feels every word, every beat, every strum of strings, every hum and every smash of a drumstick. I dance as if I am a part of the music and it is the most alive I have ever felt.

Lovely reader, head into the comments and tell me, what are some lies you have told yourself that have held you back? Have you been able to uncover the truth in them?

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hi, lauren deborah! will always be free and by clicking this cute link, you will get full access to your inbox each week as well as to the archives. If you would like to support my work, you can buy me an ice cream. 🧡🧡🧡 Comments and likes on this post or sharing it with someone, jumping into the chat, listening to my podcast or submitting a question are all other ways you can support me and my work, too, and I love them all!

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here are three things i struggled with this week:

🐾 When the dog who always wants to cuddle doesn’t want to cuddle when I want to cuddle.

🖤 Accepting help.

✏️ Writing this section of the newsletter. What a good problem to have.

here are three blessings from this week:

🌊 In my final week of three weeks of daily swims, thanks to the wisdom of an elderly man beside me in the rock pool, I have mastered the “Three, two, one, in!” of an ocean swim.

🍅 I am awkward at the best of times and need solitude to recharge my social battery, but it was such a wonderful day, I didn’t need my exit plan at all.

☎️ My healthcare finally kicked in! I am feeling all sorts of grateful for the incredibly helpful human who got the hold-up sorted out over the phone and all of the stress that has been relieved.

here are three goals for the coming week:

👩‍🍳 My morning ritual. Back in solitude and no longer wanting to maximise moments with loved ones, means my sacred hours will return.

🖋️ Cook with variety. Three weeks with my best friend who makes amazing food with lots of love has shown me how many possibilities there are despite having so many restrictions in my diet.

✨Reconnect with my creative goals.

pics or it didn’t happen:

tomato day was a great day 🍅

I love you. Now I am off to dance in my cowgirl boots at the Cobargo Folk Festival and enjoy my final weekend (for now) by the ocean — playing mermaid as much as possible — before I start four weeks in the bush without any body of water close by. (But there will be cute pets and lots of writing time, thankfully).

🧡, LD (lauren deborah | she/they)