Truthful Thursdays - Living Wide Open

To contribute to the weekly Truthful Thursday series (it does not have to be on sobriety or recovery - any topic that is your truth is great), please FIRST read this post here, and send your submission to onecraftyellie@gmail.com. Thank you.

*** Submitted by Corinne


Two and a half years ago I made the decision to live wide open. 

I came out as an alcoholic to family and friends. I posted about my recovery on my blog. I decided I would rather live out loud with this thing, the thing that was a part of my whole truth, rather than have people know me half way.

I do not define myself by being an alcoholic. It is part of me, but I am so much more than that.

However, in this culture where alcohol is referenced at the drop of a hat, it can be difficult and trying to hide behind smiles and laughter when really you want to take anything alcohol related off the plate and help people to understand that their comments might be hurting someone. Because when you can’t, won’t, and don’t consume alcoholic beverages, it’s not always funny to joke about happy hour and the like.

So, in order to live my truth, most often I make people terribly uncomfortable for a bit. I am very up front and tell people my truth very easily. I am a recovering alcoholic. Mostly I do it to save myself having to say no to a drink. It’s kind of a safety net. But also, I don’t want new friends to find out later on, from my blog or from someone else, and feel bad about offering me a drink, or commenting on how wasted they were another time, or how badly they need a drink.

I just lay it out in the open. And that, is vulnerability.

But really? Sometimes I forget that is vulnerability. Because most of the time my truth is accepted and then we move along. Yes, I challenge peoples notions of an alcoholic, because my rock bottom was hardly as bad as it could have been. But still, it was my rock bottom. And I own that. I own that I had two little children, and that I could sense the changes in me and in my desires and in my entire being that called out and longed for and responded to  and found comfort in alcohol. So before I was hiding in the closet drinking stashed bottles {as I was pretty sure that’s where I was headed...} I stopped. I asked for help. I came clean and owned my whole self.

I feel like that is part of it, challenging people’s ideas of alcoholism. Taking away the shame in saying you have a problem. I think that my story can help someone, so I tell it, and in telling my story, I feel free.

And sometimes vulnerable.

The other week I was at a dinner for my homeschooling co-op. A bunch of us were sitting in one of those round, corner booths at a local chain restaurant. I had met most of the women once or twice, a few just that very night for the first time. Somehow the conversation turned to blogs and I was talking about mine and before I knew it I was laying down my truth on the table and about how I used to blog more about recovery. And there were nods and smiles and as soon as they knew I was not there to judge, all was good. Except for one woman.

She couldn’t get past the fact that I had two little ones. And she asked the question that kicks me in the gut because I still struggle with it.

“How did you nurse your littlest if you were drinking at night?”

I drank at night. I basically clocked out when the kids went to bed. By the time my second baby was six months old I barely nursed her at night. And as a very attached parent  {babywearing, co-sleeping, nursing on demand...} for the entire daylight hours I cannot tell you the guilt I felt for so long about letting my husband shoulder the responsibility with my baby daughter at night time.

“I just didn’t. I held off drinking heavily at night until she was around six months, and then I just didn’t nurse her when I was drinking.”

And the look the woman gave me, I can’t even begin to describe the disdain and shock and then she said “wow” and shook her head. And in that instant all I could do was stand still and say something along the lines of “I had a problem, it was a bad time, but you can’t move forward if you hold onto the past” or something like that. Because in that moment, I was shaking in my boots at the thought that this woman, who barely knew me, thought I was a bad mom.

Can I tell you something? I struggle every day to realize that when I was at my worst point with my alcoholism that I was still a good mom. I made some poor choices, but that does not make me a bad mother.

Realizing that is vulnerability. Saying that is being vulnerable. Owning the bad parts and moving forward with honesty and truth, again... you guessed it... vulnerability.

Ultimately, saying my truth and knowing that others will not agree or understand, and knowing I cannot ever change their minds, that too is vulnerability.

We cannot change the world and open eyes and hearts by being closed ourselves. 

Be vulnerable. 

Take a chance. 

As Brene Brown talks about, Dare Greatly. It is worth it, and while some might not understand it, many others will thank you. 

Your heart will too.