Celebrate...

This week I celebrate another sobriety anniversary - my 31st, to be exact. This is a big deal in that I was 31 years old when I entered recovery, impacted first by the family disease and then my own. And now the scales have balanced. Thank you to all the Powers that Be, those of my understanding and otherwise.

What does it mean to celebrate in recovery? Certainly not what it used to. In Drinking & Drugging Land, celebration meant toasts - to the birthday girl, the happy couple, the promotion, the winning team - with something of a higher quality and quantity than everyday drinking. One celebrates Tuesday, or even Friday, with one's usual drink, whereas a birthday called for the good stuff, however that is defined: pizza at mom's with fancy beer; dinner out, with a second or third bottle of wine, a surprise party with an open bar...  In those near-the-end years, we once celebrated a friend's marriage with four of us locked in the bathroom, after the minister did her part, to inject speed in unison. It turned awkward fairly quickly as the groom and I both suffered from shy veins, but the intent was there. Celebrate!

Learning to celebrate sober is one of the tasks of early recovery. Some of the questions I hear are: What will I do if I ever get married? What if  my daughter gets married? How about at a wake? The idea of not imbibing is scary when we first get sober. In essence, we're asking, "Who am I without a drink in my hand? How will I mark a special occasion without a toast?" "How can I be comfortable/social without a drink?" And, as important, "What will people think of me if I don't join the festivities?"

And let's not forget dancing as celebration. How in the world can I dance without having at least a few drinks? And music? How will music sound if I'm not stoned/drunk/under the influence? Will it ever be the same? "Will I ever be the same?"

Thankfully, no. The same person would get drunk again. Recovery offers the opportunity to redefine oneself and one's habits, which is both terrifying and exciting. I saw B.B. King perform in my first few months of sobriety. I was incredibly nervous about being in a drinking establishment, with a drinking friend, and concerned that I'd be bored. Au contraire. The music was fantastic, and being sober, I was able to notice and appreciate every nuance, every note, and remember every detail the next day. When I attended my first AA dance, again in those initial months, I was anxiety stricken. I'd never been a very good dancer, and always needed the magic of booze to work up the nerve to get on the floor. I shared the same with an older member, only to be told, "Jeanine, you're in a room full of self-centered alcoholics. No one's going to be paying the least bit of attention to you." He was right. And if you've ever been to a sober dance, you know that they are some of the most rollicking events ever. Celebrate.

Over time, celebrating sober has meant many things, from playing AA Charades in the backyard (imagine acting out the "shivering denizen of King Alcohol's mad realm"), to a midnight meeting following a party on New Year's Eve. It often does include dancing, whether in a kitchen with the table removed, a friend's beautiful hardwood living room, or a hall we've rented for the occasion. Food is nearly always involved too, and in true 12 Step style, potluck, which can mean either a feast, or a whole lot of potato chips.

What I find as times goes on is that celebrating has become quieter, and more focused on the spiritual. A walk on the beach or in the woods, lighting candles, writing inventory or intentions - taking a moment from the everyday to mark an experience as special. I don't require fireworks to let me know when something is a big deal these days. I know. What I consider a big deal has shifted too. Sobriety is a big deal. Good health is a big deal. Our wedding was a big deal. Sharing laughter or tears with a friend is a big deal, as are the birthdays and anniversaries, graduations and all the other successes of a sober life.

Recovery provides the awareness to celebrate the every day. Not like when I'd drink to Wednesday, just because it was a reason to drink, but because I appreciate the moments I've been given, this second chance to fully participate in my own life. Today, I celebrate 31 years of continuous sobriety, which is, in essence, a series of celebrating life itself, one day at a time.

How do you celebrate? What do you do to mark those events that are special?