For over fifteen years, alcohol and cigarettes were a constant in my life. Looking back, it’s hard to deny I was addicted. For a decade of that time, a daily routine included a twelve-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes. Now that I’ve left those habits behind, it feels like emerging from a long haze. It’s a strange sensation, this feeling of needing to learn to live again, but in the best possible way.
No dramatic intervention forced this change. There were no court orders, no ultimatums from loved ones, and thankfully, I didn’t hit some mythical “rock bottom.” The catalyst was much simpler and far more profound: my daughter. Becoming a father changed my perspective instantly. I couldn’t reconcile the idea of advising her against smoking while lighting up myself, or lecturing about the dangers of alcohol while indulging in drinks with friends. The hypocrisy was unbearable. More than that, I realized I was simply tired of both. Neither habit was contributing anything positive to my life.
Sobriety has been a revelation. Every moment of this new life feels brighter and more present. Interestingly, my social circles began to shift naturally. Being around drinking and smoking became less appealing. While I can tolerate it briefly, I quickly crave a cleaner environment. This transition was unexpected. For so long, my days and social interactions revolved around these habits. Without the crutch of alcohol or cigarette breaks, I felt a bit lost at first. It’s astonishing how deeply ingrained these habits became, to the point of feeling “normal.” The after-work drink, the pub sessions – they had morphed into a destructive hobby, a warped sense of normalcy.
The truth is, learning to live again without these substances presents unique challenges, especially initially. The ingrained rituals and perceived normalcy are powerful anchors. This is likely why support groups are so beneficial for many navigating similar journeys, though I personally chose a different path. But make no mistake, rediscovering life sober is an incredibly rewarding and engaging process. I wouldn’t trade this clarity and vitality for any amount of alcohol or cigarettes, even if offered unimaginable wealth. As George Bernard Shaw wisely said, “Miracles, in the sense of phenomena we cannot explain, surround us on every hand: life itself is the miracle of miracles.” And in a way, reclaiming my life from addiction feels like a personal miracle, a true learning to live again experience.
