Answer Addiction

Tag: sober travel

  • 7 Ways to Be a Rebel…in Sobriety

    7 Ways to Be a Rebel…in Sobriety

    Alternate rebellion can help shake up ennui and distress, otherwise known as life. It’s a great act of self-acceptance in a world that wants you to follow their dumb unwritten rules. Guess what, world? I do what I want. 

    People who have struggled with addiction and alcoholism are rebels by nature. If you disagree, you’re just proving my point. Getting into recovery and following the rules we need to follow if we’re going to stay sober and have a better life can feel like something’s missing – that old Eff You to the face of the world. But what if there were ways to rebel that didn’t leave a trail of dumpster fires and broken bones in your wake?

    Alternate Rebellion, which is taught in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), is the idea that there are healthy, nondestructive ways to rebel, or “act out.” There are many ways to feel like yourself without hurting yourself. It’s also highly effective as a tool for distress tolerance (a term that describes one’s capacity to cope with or withstand negative emotions or stressful conditions).

    What follows is a list of several acts of alternate rebellion I have found to be very satisfying, and a link to a more comprehensive (and less aggressive) list. We already know how to get creative under pressure when it comes to self-destruction. Now, that same energy and talent can be used in ways that make you feel good about yourself before, during, and after. After all, everything we do in life is because we’re searching for a certain feeling. There are so many more ways to get there than the limited world of self-harm.

    1. Cut off a friend you find boring

    I had a friend — I suspect most of us have had this friend — who was sweet and loyal and utterly boring. Half the time I didn’t know, or care, what the hell she was talking about. I think a lot of us feel like we have to take what we can get in terms of human connection because we’re so fundamentally unlovable, but we don’t. Even if, say, that friend was there for you during a really dark period in your life — you realize that was their choice, and of course they got something out of it too. Ignore their calls. Refuse to read the Twilight fan fiction they keep pushing on you. When they reach out to say “What happened? Are you dead?” Refrain from saying, “Bitch, you know I’ve been posting on Insta.” Say you just don’t feel like chatting right now. Because you don’t. To them. Revel in the fact that you just did something kinda bad. It feels good.

    2. Disagree with an overly confident person

    I cannot recommend this enough. Especially people who can’t handle being disagreed with. Los Angeles is lousy with them. And I hate to state the obvious, but they are usually straight white men. Easy to find. You don’t have to lie; I guarantee you hear things you don’t agree with every day. And just like that: Hey. I don’t agree. Smile. The smiling is the best part. If you want to present your opposing view, have at it, but often the look on their face and their sheer inability to deal with being disagreed with is enough.

    3. Get a tattoo 

    I went from having zero tattoos because commitment issues to having six in eighteen months because addiction issues. I regret nothing. That’s actually the first tattoo I got: je ne regrette rien. I am not French, but I do identify as a snob. There’s a great story behind it, which I will happily tell anyone hitting on me and also you. It was posted by a friend of mine who was dear to me in only the way someone you’ve followed on Tumblr for many years and only met twice in person can be. She wrote that she spoke French and nobody knew that about her and also that it’s the title of a gorgeous song, so she wanted to get it as a tattoo.

    It was one of her last posts. She died suddenly in her bed at the age of 32. So I got the tattoo to honor her, and because all the bullshit got me here. Also, it’s a chance to stick a needle in your arm, but in a good way. I love my tattoos. They make me feel like a badass. Some people say oh no, they are forever, but guess what? The body is so temporary. Also: lasers.

    4. Play uncool music with your windows down

    I’m partial to Miley Cyrus’s Party in the U.S.A. right now, but you do you, boo. Don’t play it so loud that you scare dogs and upset children, but, you know, a little loud. Just loud enough that you feel like you shouldn’t. And dance. Dance and don’t let anyone looking at you stop you. And don’t stop at a red light next to a Tesla containing an outwardly perfect person. Party. In the U.S.A.

    5. Travel somewhere you’ve always wanted to. Alone. Even if you don’t have “enough money.”

    Traveling alone is my jam. I always wanted to go to Italy, and in rehab I moaned over the fact that it wasn’t fair that I couldn’t drink wine in Italy. Guess what? Nobody was taking drunk me to Italy. Traveling alone is the best because you don’t ever have to compromise on what to do or where to go or what to eat – every rebel’s dream.

    In the past two years I’ve been to Costa Rica, Thailand, and Bali alone as well as a dozen states in the continental U.S. I frequently bring my dog, who flies and stays everywhere free because I have a letter from my therapist, another fantastic act of alternate rebellion. I love whenever someone tries to tell me I can’t have my pet somewhere. I quietly offer to show them paperwork, while in my head I’m screaming “EXCUSE ME HE’S AN EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ANIMAL HE KEEPS ME CALM.” I’ve been nervous about how I’m going to pay for my upcoming Italy/Greece trip, but writing this helped me remember that I had no idea how I was going to pull off any of the other international trips either. Financial insecurity is lame, so I cured it with another act of alternate rebellion. 

    6. Take a bath in the middle of the day

    I actually did this in the middle of writing this article and it felt fantastic. I was sitting here feeling resistant about doing one of my favorite things on earth, writing, and contemplating shutting the computer down and taking a nap, eating even though I’m not hungry, turning on the TV, or a host of other things that are mildly self-destructive and won’t help me feel good about myself in the long run. So I lit my best candles, threw some crystals in there, added a few handfuls of epsom salts and a liberal amount of lavender bubbles, and in went my Juul and I. Right before I did it, I thought: I’m totally not supposed to do this, but it isn’t hurting me or anyone, so YAY. That is pretty much the definition of an act of alternate rebellion. 

    7. Wear your jammies out in public

    A lot of people have strong opinions about people wearing sweatpants in public and I think it’s so outdated. It’s nice to be comfy, especially when you’re in distress. When I was drinking and using, sure, I’d look a mess and probably have unbrushed teeth and hair as I went in search of an open liquor store on any morning of the week, but it’s so lovely to put a little makeup on, brush my hair and teeth, and put on my most stylish and comfortable loungewear, and go out…anywhere. The grocery store? Oh yeah. The movies? Even better. Something about wearing sweatpants in public tickles me. Always has, ever since my college roommate said when we were hungover one Sunday, “You’re going to wear THAT to the dining hall?” Yes, bitch, I certainly am.

    My intention with this piece is not to convince others to do exactly what I have done, but to inspire your wheels to turn toward what feels good to you. Alternate rebellion can help shake up ennui and distress, otherwise known as life. It feels like a secret even though it’s often the opposite. It’s the individuation so many of us missed out on in our lost adolescences. More than anything, it’s saying yes to yourself, to your inner child, to exactly who you are exactly at this moment. It’s a great act of self-acceptance in a world that wants you to follow their dumb unwritten rules. Guess what, world? I do what I want. 

    A list of tiny alternate rebellions can be found here: https://www.dbtselfhelp.com/html/alternate_rebellion.html

    And more information on DBT here: https://behavioraltech.org/resources/faqs/dialectical-behavior-therapy-dbt/

    How do you rebel in recovery? Tell us in the comments.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Traveling While Sober: Will I Still Have Fun?

    Traveling While Sober: Will I Still Have Fun?

    Just as in everyday life, the biggest battle with alcohol while traveling is internal. But with some preparation, you can go anywhere and have a great time, sober.

    We arrived breathlessly at the Vedado home, a stately stone structure with a newly refurbished interior, ready to learn the secrets of Cuban cuisine. My new husband and I were famished in the way that happens when you travel, lost in time and space, not realizing we were hungry until the situation felt dire. We pulled up to the table, lovingly set with custom flatware and bejeweled napkin rings, ready to chop and dice our way into full. But first, Mojito time! 

    I should’ve known. 

    Alcohol as Social Lubricant

    From my very first international trip—a self-funded excursion to France at 15—drinking had always been a big part of traveling. At bars it was easier to meet people, I often said. Was it really a big deal if that occasionally involved throwing up on them? 

    I continued to believe that alcohol was critical to my so-called social life, even if, toward the end of my addiction, said life mostly involved knowing where Columbus’ most private bathroom stalls were located. Yet, I worried. Besides travel, I couldn’t imagine how I’d date/make friends/comport myself at fundraisers if I wasn’t able to drink, completely overlooking how the trajectory I was on did not include indoor plumbing. 

    When at last I did quit drinking and using, and the time to travel actually came, I wasn’t so worried. By then, I had the shelter of a husband who liked to drink. One look at us and it was clear somebody needed to stay sober. I didn’t realize the pressure this relieved. 

    Until our marriage ended. 

    Escape to Borneo

    That first summer as a divorcee, I was desperate to escape my life, at least for the duration allowed by my accrued vacation time. I wasn’t a fan of group travel, but then I found something called, “The Extreme Headhunters Tour.” Those days I wanted nothing more than to see some heads roll, and though I knew I wasn’t going to get to do any actual beheading myself, the idea that I would learn about others who had was intriguing. Better still, the excursion was billed as physically challenging, while also offering the rare opportunity to sleep overnight at a headhunters’ longhouse. I would meet real Borneans, and other travelers (i.e., men) with the physical stamina and means to book such a tour. 

    I signed on, only to realize the group was largely comprised of retired female librarians. That was the least of my concerns, however, once happy hour hit. 

    Our night with the headhunters consisted of playing a little game. I’m sure there was some food, but what I remember was the drinking. The evening’s entertainment was built entirely around tuak, a kind of coconut liqueur that’s popular in Borneo. The game went something like this: buy one for you, then buy one for me. The crowd was visibly disappointed that I didn’t drink, especially since the librarians were in bed. It was so uncomfortable—and then there was the whole divorce situation—that I briefly considered putting us all out of our misery and throwing back some tuak, but I was lucid enough to know I might not make it out of Borneo if I did.

    “You’re on Vacation, Live a Little!”

    Having traveled the world sober and not sober, I’ve learned that I take my addiction with me everywhere, whether I’m indulging it or not. So it would be an outright lie to claim that those Mojitos in Cuba held zero interest. The glasses had been chilled, crushed ice and fresh mint were on hand, and some beautiful amber liquid awaited my pour. Worse yet, the alternatives were Fresca sweetened with extra sugar and lime juice, or tap water. In my daily life, I pass on sugary drinks like soda. Begrudgingly, I took the water.

    I refuse to let fear keep me from traveling. Getting sober isn’t an event, it’s for the long haul, so I have to be able to do the things I love, such as meeting people whose lives are nothing like mine and coming together with them in an everyday way, like over a meal. The good news is: with some preparation, it’s increasingly possible to avoid these triggering episodes altogether.

    In the case of Cuba, I should’ve realized that cocktail mixing was part of the itinerary when I booked it. The activity was on the booking page, but at the bottom of the list. I have traveled enough to know how squeamish others can turn when faced with nondrinkers like myself. Over the years I’ve heard all the objections: “You’re on vacation, live a little!” Or the ever-popular, “Everyone must try this.” And my personal favorite, “Who will know?” Out of context they’re laughable, but I know how my brain can work. Or not work. Anyway, why test this the hard way?

    Managing My Ego

    For our first anniversary trip, I didn’t want to constantly deal with these objections so when I booked rooms or tours, I notified hosts that my husband and I didn’t drink. This was surprisingly difficult for me: My ego wasn’t so thrilled about drawing attention to the fact that there’s something I can’t handle. After a couple of decades without a drink, the terminally unique creature in me apparently decided that it wants to be just like everyone else. Fortunately, my centered self at home could spot and manage these mental objections. By the time I hit the streets of Paris, I was ready to ward off potential threats to my sobriety.

    “A cup of glass!” I blurted out in my best high school French. The server looked at me curiously. Just as I suspected, I thought, coolly repeating the phrase. She can’t even understand what it means to drink water with a meal instead of wine!

    I’d like to say I laughed and corrected myself, but that would be a lie. I was tweaked to the point of leaving the restaurant, only realizing my error when I reached the street. From then on, I fixed my phrasing to ask for sparkling water.

    Not ordering alcohol had no effect on the way I was treated. The servers did not care whether I drank or not, which is very different from the reception I receive in the U.S. Here, where tipping is a significant portion of pay, the check total matters. There, where tips are more nominal, they could care less. 

    The “worst” experience with alcohol was in another cooking class. The host, despite knowing ahead of time that we didn’t drink, had only tap water on the table. But I put that word in quotation marks because everything else was absolutely delightful. Our host turned out to be a TV personality who was having boyfriend issues. I was happily riveted to my chair for hours. 

    In Lisbon, I expected something less cosmopolitan and thought there would be less knowledge or acceptance of sober travelers. Yet there was a similar nonchalance from servers, tour guides, and everyone else we met. Best of all was the cooking class, where four of eight of us were non-drinkers. I took one look at the sober hipster newlyweds and said conspiratorially, “I assume you’re doing it one day at a time?” To which the wife replied, “What are you talking about?”

    The Freedom to Go Anywhere…Sober

    Just as in everyday life, the biggest battle with alcohol while traveling is internal. It helped enormously to pave the way ahead, letting guides and hosts know I wouldn’t be drinking. But the most valuable part of this practice was that it forced me to acknowledge my own roadblocks so that when my ego cropped up mid-travels, I didn’t have to believe what it was telling me. Unlike my experiences in Borneo and Cuba, I never felt trapped, which is a trigger. 

    Knowing what steps to take ahead of time, I can go anywhere.

    View the original article at thefix.com