Sipping Solitude: A Journey from Loneliness to Love
Breaking the Ice: A Journey from Intoxication to Liberation
In the biting cold of a December morning, the mercury plummeting to -21°C, I reflect on a life-altering decision made 16 years ago—to go sober. The dark blue sky dotted with flickering stars sets the backdrop for a life now enriched with unimaginable rewards. My wife and three children have never witnessed me succumbing to the allure of alcohol, a testament to the transformative power of breaking free from addiction. As I navigate the snowy landscape, hand in hand with my five-year-old son on our way to preschool, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. The snow squeaks beneath our feet, a symphony of normalcy that I once took for granted.
The genesis of my relationship with alcohol dates back to a luminous summer night in a northern suburb of Stockholm. At the tender age of 13, surrounded by friends from the high-rises, I experienced my first intoxication. The lukewarm beer forced down our throats ushered in a rush of wellbeing, a sense of belonging that had eluded me. I hugged a birch tree, feeling deeply understood, and pledged to continue this newfound love affair with alcohol. It was a blind passion, an escape into a world where intoxication granted me a fleeting sense of normalcy, especially during the festive season when everyone else joined in the revelry.
In my early 20s, as my debut novel graced the shelves, I believed I had cracked life's code. Writing during the day and drinking at night seemed a seductive blend for someone yearning for recognition but fearing the revelation of their true self. The act of writing and the allure of alcohol opened the jar of my emotions, granting me a taste of freedom. However, as the consequences of my choices reverberated, I lost control. The elixir that once promised companionship led me into the desolation of isolation.
Navigating Sobriety: A Drive through Presence and Redemption
The short drive to preschool from the city unfolds as the sun casts its morning glow. In the passenger seat, my son relishes a ham sandwich and a clementine, releasing a subtle aroma of citrus into the car. Each deliberate move, from raising the sandwich to his mouth to the slow, deliberate chewing, fills me with an inexplicable joy. It's not sentimentality but a profound sense of pure presence, a moment of contentment with exactly where I am.
Alcoholism, a public affliction, often cloaks its sufferers in stigma, shame, and guilt. Denial becomes a persistent shield, and many bear the weight of their misery to the bitter end. The link between writers and alcohol abuse, a persistent myth, hints at a complex relationship between creativity and addiction. Is it that creative souls are drawn to addiction, or do addicts find solace in artistic pursuits?
In Sweden, where drinking culture grapples with alcohol prohibition and stringent regulations, Systembolaget, the state-owned alcohol retailer, remains closed on Sundays and bank holidays. Despite the costliness of alcohol, Swedish celebrations, especially during new year, midsummer, and other holidays, often revolve around intoxication. Alcohol, it seems, might offer a courage unique to these northern latitudes.
Alcoholism, I've come to understand, is a disease of loneliness—a journey marked by escapism, self-deception, and self-centered fear. It's an obsession with "me," a fixation on a glass dome over existence that creates a pervasive sense of isolation even in a crowd. The allure of alcohol lay in its ability to soften the hardened edges within me, granting a fleeting escape from the relentless feeling of being an outsider gazing into an enclosed universe.
Yet, beneath the surface, fear lingered—that alcohol might not suffice, that it wouldn't conceal my true self with all its frailties. The trivial secrets, concealed and destined for the grave, haunted me with the dread of exposure and ultimate solitude. The communal illusion alcohol offered, for me, masked a profound emptiness on the flipside. Sobriety, I discovered, was not merely a journey from intoxication to clarity; it was a pilgrimage from emptiness to redemption.
From Thistles to Togetherness: Embracing a Sobering Reality
Even in the absence of the familiar embrace of alcohol, my fears persist, although their nature has evolved. No longer haunted by the specter of intoxication, my anxieties have shape-shifted into worries about finances, sleep, friendships, career trajectory, and the incessant fear of inadequacy. The thistles of apprehension, once kept at bay by alcohol's temporary solace, now bloom in the meadow of my consciousness.
This spiritual malaise, a relentless craving for what one perceives as lacking, encapsulates the essence of this disease. The circle of desire is unbroken; there is no standing outside of it. The notion of separation, a lie I once clung to for self-preservation, unravels when everything is acknowledged as part of a greater whole. The ego whispers insidiously, urging me to seize love clandestinely, convincing me that attention is scarce. The alcohol, once deemed the problem, reveals itself as a mere symptom. I am the problem.
Recollections of my sober beginnings are a stark reminder that the quest for an opening, which alcohol seemed to provide, only led to a tightening lid, shutting me into a jar of confusion and unparalleled loneliness. Terrifying was the moment I relinquished my battle against alcohol, for it was a path uncharted in my awareness. Yet, an unexpected clearing emerged, a sanctuary in the dense forest of despair, visible only to one as lost as I.
Sobriety, I came to understand, isn't merely the absence of alcohol; it's an embrace of togetherness. As I walk with my son to the preschool gate, he releases my hand and rushes ahead in the snow, leaving me to follow at a slower pace. Just before disappearing around the corner, he turns to gaze at me. In the cold air, columns of breath rise from our mouths. For him, it's natural; for me, an unforeseen and undeserved joy. Gunnar Ardelius, a Swedish author, encapsulates this transformative journey with profound clarity.
In the silent expanse of my sobering journey, I've traversed the thorny fields of shifting fears and confronted the stark reality that I am both the seeker and the sought. No longer shielded by the fleeting respite of alcohol, I grapple with anxieties that manifest in the form of mundane worries about money, sleep, friendships, career, and the relentless fear of falling short.
The illusory notion of separation, once clung to as a self-preserving lie, unravels in the face of a greater truth—everything is interconnected. The ego's whispers, urging me to grasp at love and convincing me of scarcity, are revealed as the echoes of a past that no longer defines me. The alcohol, once a deceptive remedy, now fades into the background as a symptom of a deeper struggle within myself.
As I reflect on the sober beginnings, the tightening lids on the jars of my attempts to escape, I recognize that my greatest fear was not the absence of alcohol but the revelation of my true self—fragile, imperfect, and human. The unexpected clearing in the forest, discovered amidst the confusion of surrender, unveils the opposite of addiction: togetherness.
Sobriety, I've come to realize, is not a mere negation but an affirmation of connection, an acknowledgment that the journey from loneliness to love is a collective one. As I walk with my son towards the preschool gate, his natural release of my hand and the glance he throws back are symbolic of this newfound joy—unexpected, undeserved, and yet an integral part of a greater whole.
In the words of Gunnar Ardelius, a Swedish author whose narrative echoes my own, the opposite of addiction is not sobriety; it is togetherness. The realization dawns that in embracing our interconnectedness, we find the strength to confront fears, dispel illusions, and walk hand in hand through the uncharted realms of a life untethered from the grip of loneliness.